Chapter Thirteen
By the time Alliyah reached the hospital waiting room, her hands were still shaking.
Hamilton’s parents were already there.
First Lady Hamilton stood with one hand pressed against her chest, her eyes red and wild with fear. Pastor Emmanuel Hamilton stood beside her, calmer on the outside, but Alliyah could see the worry in his face.
“What happened?” First Lady Hamilton asked, rushing toward her. “What happened to my son?”
Alliyah opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Pastor Hamilton stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm.
“Alliyah,” he said, “tell us what happened.”
She swallowed hard.
“We were spending time together at the beach.”
First Lady Hamilton stared at her. “And?”
Alliyah looked down.
“I was holding back.”
Pastor Hamilton’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in judgment, but in understanding.
“Holding back from what?”
Alliyah’s face warmed. Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them.
“We were kissing,” she finally whispered.
First Lady Hamilton’s mouth fell open.
“Kissing?” she cried. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Alliyah wiped her face quickly. “It was just kissing.”
“Just kissing?” First Lady Hamilton threw one hand into the air. “My son passed out from just kissing?”
Pastor Hamilton looked at his wife, then back at Alliyah.
“Well,” he said under his breath, “must have been one powerful kiss.”
Alliyah’s lips parted in shock.
For one tiny second, despite the fear sitting heavy in the room, she almost laughed.
First Lady Hamilton whipped around. “This is not funny.”
“I know, baby,” Pastor Hamilton said quickly, lifting both hands. “I’m just trying to keep everybody breathing.”
Alliyah straightened her back and lifted her chin. She refused to crumble in front of them.
Not here.
Not when she already felt like she was the reason Hamilton was lying somewhere behind hospital doors.
Before First Lady Hamilton could say anything else, the doctor walked into the waiting room.
“Family of Lewis Hamilton?”
Pastor Hamilton stepped forward. First Lady Hamilton rushed beside him.
Alliyah moved too, then stopped herself.
She was not family.
Not yet.
The thought hurt more than it should have.
The doctor looked around. “We’re still running tests. His vitals are stable, but we are concerned there may be an underlying heart condition. We need to monitor him closely and complete further evaluation.”
Alliyah’s knees weakened.
Heart condition.
The words echoed through her.
She reached for the nearest chair and slowly sank into it.
Just then, her ex-husband walked in with her daughters. She had texted him from the ambulance, barely able to explain anything except that she had to go to the hospital.
Seleane saw her face and hurried over.
“Momma, what’s wrong?”
Alliyah tried to answer like a mother.
Calm.
Controlled.
Strong.
But her voice cracked.
“My friend has a heart problem.”
Seleane’s face softened. “The man from your job?”
Alliyah nodded once.
Then she covered her face with both hands and cried.
Because suddenly the beach was no longer just a kiss.
It was a memory.
Maybe the last moment they would ever have like that.
What did this mean for him?
What did it mean for them?
What did it mean for a future that had only just started breathing?
Pastor Hamilton walked over and sat beside her.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, he said, “Things have a way of revealing what matters.”
Alliyah lowered her hands.
Pastor Hamilton looked at her with tired, knowing eyes.
“My son came to me about you,” he said.
Alliyah’s breath caught. “He did?”
Pastor Hamilton nodded.
“He told me he was trying not to push you. Told me he felt like if he moved too fast, you would run.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I didn’t want to run,” she whispered.
“I know,” Pastor Hamilton said. “And I think he knew too.”
Alliyah looked toward the hallway.
First Lady Hamilton was pacing, whispering prayers under her breath, still emotional, still afraid, still protective of her son.
Alliyah understood that.
If it were her child, she might be the same way.
After a while, she knew she had to take her daughters home. But before she left, a nurse allowed her to step into Hamilton’s room for a moment.
He looked too still in the hospital bed.
Too quiet.
The man who had kissed her like a storm now lay beneath white sheets with wires attached to his chest and monitors beeping beside him.
Alliyah stood near the doorway at first.
Then she walked closer.
“Hamilton,” she whispered.
His eyes opened slowly.
The moment he saw her, the monitor changed.
The beeping quickened.
Alliyah froze.
First Lady Hamilton heard it from the hallway and rushed in.
“What is going on?” she cried, looking from the monitor to Alliyah. “Get her out of here.”
Alliyah stepped back.
But Hamilton’s hand moved against the sheet.
“No.”
His voice was weak, but clear.
First Lady Hamilton stopped.
Pastor Hamilton appeared behind her.
Hamilton turned his head toward Alliyah, his eyes locking with hers.
“Don’t make her leave.”
Alliyah’s chest tightened.
First Lady Hamilton looked like she wanted to argue, but Pastor Hamilton gently touched her arm.
“Let him breathe,” he said softly.
Alliyah stayed where she was, tears sliding down her face.
Hamilton looked at her like he was still on the beach.
Like nothing had changed.
Like everything had changed.
And even with his body weak and the room full of fear, he still chose her to stay.