Chapter 21
JACKSON
I sat by Elena in the waiting area, watching Grayson approach us with that carefully constructed composure I recognized all too well.
It was the face of someone who'd already fallen apart in private and hastily reassembled themselves—just enough to function.
The silver threading through his dark hair seemed more pronounced under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Meredith was the only family he had left, and I knew the pain of losing family.
He'd come too close.
"She's stable," he said with relief, although his face was still saddened. "The transfusions helped. But..." He shook his head sadly. "She lost the baby."
I watched Elena's face as the news registered. At first, nothing—just a blank stare as though the words were still traveling to her brain. Then her lips parted slightly, and I saw the moment it hit her. Grief that wasn't technically hers to claim, but cut through her nonetheless.
"I'm sorry." The words were not enough, but Grayson nodded.
"So am I," Elena murmured. "Does… does she know? Is she awake?"
"Yes, and yes. She's… processing," Grayson said carefully. "Leo is in there with her."
Elena nodded, looking down at the floor, and at the sneakers she now wore. She'd gotten changed while we'd been waiting, although I knew she'd want a shower. We all would, although Ivy hadn't complained even once since getting her Starbucks and burger.
The sharp buzz of Elena's phone cut through the weighted silence. One of men who had gotten her clothes from her apartment had picked it up, along with mine. Mine had had several missed calls and messages, whereas Elena's had only a few messages, none of them urgent.
Elena glanced down, frowning at the voicemail showing.
"Bad service in here, sometimes they don't ring," I stated as she lifted the phone to her ear to listen to it.
I tracked the color as it drained from her face—instant and complete, like someone had pulled a plug.
It couldn't be good.
"It's the hospital," she whispered, voice suddenly brittle. "My mom."
Ivy leaned forward instantly, her attention fully on Elena now.
Elena's hands trembled as she called back, her voice cracking on the edges. Ivy's hand found Elena's free hand instantly, squeezing with silent support.
I wanted to offer my own support, but decided against it with Grayson before me. She may not want it from me right now.
In the quiet of the waiting area, I could hear the nurse's voice through the phone. My jaw clenched involuntarily as I listened.
"She's stable now," the nurse was saying, "but earlier she was confused, sobbing. We think it was a reaction to the new meds."
"I'm coming right now." Elena's voice climbed as she stood up with Ivy. "Tell her I'm on my way." She was already heading toward the elevator, her voice tinged with fear I recognized. The fear of losing someone you couldn't save.
Ivy followed right behind her, silent but radiating fierce protectiveness.
They were both strong women who had been through hell in the last twenty-four hours.
I stood and turned to Grayson, decision already made. "I need a car."
He didn't hesitate, just tossed me his keys with a quick nod. "Take whatever you need."
The drive to Shenton was filled with heavy silence.
Elena stared out the passenger window, her profile etched with tension, like she was physically holding herself together through sheer force of will.
Every few minutes, Ivy would glance at her from the back seat, but seemed to understand that words wouldn't help.
I had the radio playing, but it was down low, giving Elena room to speak if she needed.
I kept my eyes mostly on the road, but found myself glancing at Elena. The afternoon sun caught the moisture in her eyes that she refused to let fall. My hands tightened on the wheel.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask. The potted plant with the little fairy house with the two small clay pieces, does it symbolize anything? The butterfly and a frog?" I broke the silence, wanting to distract them both from the worry shrouding the car.
"We got the fairy house at a Celtic festival I dragged Elena to," Ivy spoke up as Elena turned my way.
"The butterfly and frog we got each other one year when we challenged one another to buy something that made us think of the other," Elena shared as she cast a small smile back at Ivy.
"I got Elena the frog, because she loves the rain and frogs. We used to dance in it as teenagers, and Elena always wanted a pet frog," Ivy said with a soft chuckle.
"Yeah, well, I got the butterfly because it started off from something inconspicuous and then evolved into something beautiful and vibrant, spreading its wings."
"Oh, I thought it was because of their short lifespans," Ivy joked, but then both their smiles faltered.
"Tell me more about you both. The things you've done. What's the wildest story you have?" I tried to keep them from sinking further into their own pits.
"Oh, Ivy has plenty of those," Elena said, her smile returning once more, albeit a little forced.
"Where to start. There was that guy who I dated, found out he'd gotten out of prison for shanking a man who hit on his last girlfriend."
"Which you thought was romantic, even though I said it was a major red flag," Elena groaned.
"Hey, ride or die is always nice, don't dis," Ivy gasped.
"But he ended up knocking that ex back up.
I left him, but he kept coming to my work, begging me to take him back, that his kid would need a good step-mom.
I told him to beat it, and then when he trash-talked me to my own boss, I decided to spend some well-earned cash on a glitter bomb delivery.
Sent him a nice little note explaining it could be worse and to back off. "
"You sent a glitter bomb to a guy who shanked someone?" I arched a brow at her.
"Okay, not my finest or smartest moment. But he did stop after that," Ivy said with a shrug.
"Because he stabbed someone else and went back to prison," Elena stated.
"Whatever, he stopped being a problem."
I had to laugh a little, shaking my head at just how unhinged Ivy appeared to be. So universally different to Elena. Maybe it was why they worked so well together. One was a fiery time-bomb, while the other was level-headed and smart.
It always seemed to be the case with female best friends.
"As for together though, I think one of our wildest stories was that time we both got so damn drunk, and I refused to listen to Elena about not catching a ride to a party out on a farm.
It ended up with the car breaking down, and our drunk asses walking through a corn field.
Some lovely old couple found us, took us in for the night, and made us breakfast the next morning.
When we finished thanking them, they asked us if we wanted to marry their two sons.
We politely declined, and then they asked us if we wanted to join them for the orgy session they were headed to so we could meet some nice country folk. "
I nearly veered off the road as I shot a look back at Ivy, certain she was lying. Her huge grin was hard to decipher.
"She's not lying. They were a weird couple, thankfully, we were a few towns away from home. Never going back there," Elena confirmed as Ivy laughed maniacally.
"I feel like there were so many ways that story could have gone, but that was one hell of a twist," I stated.
"Yeah, always shocks people. But hey, can't go judging or hating. As long as they don't come forcing their weirdness on me, they can do whatever they want," Ivy said with a shrug. "Each to their own."
"Right." I had no comeback for that, then again, I knew of a lot of weird shit in my world. I just hadn't expected a drunken country story to lurch like that.
Ivy shared a few lesser stories of their teenage antics, but it sounded like Elena had calmed down once she hit her early twenties, unlike Ivy.
And, considering my interest in her, I was grateful for that. I commended any man who tried to make an honest woman out of Ivy.
When we finally reached the hospital after the long drive, the sun was setting in the distant.
I pulled up, and the two girls were quick to rush inside.
A nurse in blue scrubs met us at the front desk, clipboard in hand.
"She's resting now," she explained, voice professionally gentle.
"Vitals are good. But earlier... she was inconsolable. "
Elena stepped into her mother's room like she was entering sacred ground. Her mother lay still, breathing slow and even, the machines beeping in steady rhythm. But the air felt charged, like we'd just missed a storm.
She stood motionless for a long time, just watching her mother breathe, while Ivy sat down beside her.
I watched from the doorway as Elena wiped at her eyes, trying to hide the tears that had finally broken free. She didn't need to hide them. Not from me. I'd seen worse—been worse—and still carried my team's dog tags as proof.
She didn't need to be strong, not here.
After an hour of watching Elena alternate between sitting vigil and pacing, I made a decision. No one wanted to wake Anna, and she wasn't waking on her own. These two women needed sleep and rest, and more food.
I booked us rooms at the nicest hotel I could find within ten miles of the hospital.
Two rooms. One with two beds for the girls, one with a single for me.
I made sure they connected through an interior door.
Not because I expected trouble, but because I'd learned the hard way that preparation matters.
"Let's eat and call it a night. The nurses can call when she wakes," I said. Elena was hesitant, but Ivy nodded.
"A shower would be nice," Ivy stated, and Elena sighed.
She reluctantly left, asking the nurse to call her when she woke, especially if she was asking for them, or if anything changed. The nurse was sympathetic, but believed Anna would sleep through the night now.
With that, we headed out, and I picked us up some fast food, making sure to take more of my painkillers and antibiotics as directed.
Elena barely spoke when we finally arrived at the hotel. She just kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the bed beside Ivy, still in the clothes she'd worn all day.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her curl into herself like she was trying to disappear into something smaller, something that might hurt less.
"I don't want to lose her," she whispered, voice cracking open on the words.
Ivy pulled her close. "You won't," she said with fierce certainty. "Not tonight."
I closed the connecting door between our rooms, giving them privacy, but I didn't go far. I sat on the edge of my bed, back straight, ears tuned to any sound through the wall. Just in case she needed me.
The dog tags against my chest felt heavier than usual. I pulled them out, running my thumb over the embossed names. My team. The people I couldn't save.
I couldn't save them. I'd lost those I loved most. Seeing someone else enduring it, preparing for the loss, only reminded me of the pain.
Through the wall, I could hear the soft sounds of Elena finally breaking down, her sobs muffled against what I assumed was Ivy's shoulder or a pillow. My hand tightened around the tags until the metal edges bit into my palm.
Sitting there, listening to Elena's muffled crying, I felt the familiar pull of something I'd tried to bury after watching that diplomat's family burn—the need to save someone, anyone, from their own personal hell.
I'd not been able to save my parents. We'd never been close, and they'd been abusive and horrible.
I'd cut them out before enlisting, and returned from my first mission to learn they'd died in a car accident.
My father had been well over the alcohol limit, and he'd taken my mother's life alongside his with his recklessness.
A part of me knew my desire to help others was because I'd not been able to save them from themselves.
I tucked my dog tags back into my shirt and stretched out on the bed, not bothering to undress. Sleep wouldn't come, not with Elena's tears still audible through the wall. Not with the memory of her face when she got that call still fresh in my mind.
Tonight, she was just a daughter afraid of losing her mother. Of fearing the death of someone she loved. Grieving.
And that, at least, I understood.