Chapter 34 The Left Behind
THE LEFT BEHIND
EMERY
I’ve always associated hospitals with death. Even when I was given another chance at life, this place, these walls, they reminded me of endings. So much loss has crossed these halls. So much grief.
If you leave the front doors with nothing broken, nothing left behind, no one left behind—it’s a blessing that shouldn’t be taken for granted.
I haven’t left yet. Nothing has been taken. I was certain I’d see death today, whether mine or my child’s. But we’re still here. Safe. The pain is gone. For now.
I lie in the sterile white ER bed, the fluorescent lights overhead beaming down at me. Bright. Too bright. The heart monitor beeps to my right, Quin’s face twisted with concern as the doctor speaks with us.
“Miss Jones, you have preeclampsia,” she says. “We need to manage your blood pressure and ensure the baby’s lungs remain healthy. We’d like to move you to a private room for monitoring for a week, but you’ll be discharged from the ER shortly. We also need to avoid high-stress situations…”
As she continues to speak, going over treatment plans and new medication, my mind starts to wander, picking up on the chaotic chatter from the front of the ER doors.
“Male, thirty-three, sustained second and third-degree burns. Shrapnel lodged in his lower right abdomen, BP dropping.”
The urgency in their voices sends a chill down my spine.
“Book OR three. We need to take him to surgery.”
I crane my neck as the commotion grows louder. The gurney rushes past my bed, and I catch a glimpse of the man on it. My eyes widen, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Oh my God.” Terror courses through my veins, my gut, every single limb and atom. It can’t be. No. “Damon. That’s Damon.” I whip my head toward Quin. “That’s Damon!”
“Emery!”
“Miss Jones!”
Ignoring the pleas from the doctor and Quin, I rip out my IVs, the sharp sting barely registering. I stumble toward the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest.
“What happened?” I cry out, desperate for answers as I catch glimpses of Damon’s burned and broken body being wheeled away.
Oh God…
Quin rushes to my side, his arms around me, trying to hold me back. “Emery, please! Breathe! Please, breathe! You need to sit down. You need—”
“Let go of me!” I scream into the void, struggling against his hold as every doctor and nurse ignores my pleas for an explanation, a confirmation. Anything. “What happened?! Tell me what happened to him!”
Then I hear a quiet voice behind me. “He pulled a family of five out of a burning car. The car… It blew up.”
I whip around, my jaw setting as sorrow morphs into fiery anger. It’s her. Same eyes. Name nose. Same dark curly hair. My blood boils, and I yank away from Quin’s grip, marching toward her, furious.
Before she can react, I slap her across the face.
“How dare you!” I shout, her dog baring his teeth and growling at me. “How dare you show your face here.”
She stumbles back, her hand flying to her cheek.
Quin pulls me back, his grip firm but gentle as I try and lunge at the woman. “Emery, stop! Please! This isn’t good for you,” he says. “You need to breathe. Calm down, darling.”
Tears stream down my face, my chest heaving with sobs. Calm down? Calm down?! How the hell am I supposed to calm down when the man I love is on the brink of death, and his new fucking plaything is standing in front of me?!
The woman blinks at me, rubbing the reddening mark I left across her skin.
“I told him you’d hit me,” she mutters to herself, then has the audacity to speak to me.
“You must be Emery.” Her gaze flicks briefly to Quin.
“And you’re Quin.” My eyes widen as she holds out her hand.
“I’m Sage. Damon’s friend. We met in art class.
” My molars nearly disintegrate as I clench my jaw.
Sage quickly adds, “I’m not sleeping with him. I promise.”
I glare at her. “Why should I believe you?”
“Emery…” Quin places an anchoring hand on the small of my back, and his calming energy slowly loosens my tight muscles. “Why don’t we give her a chance to explain, hmm?”
“Fine.” I cross my arms, peering down at Sage, cold and unforgiving. “Explain. Why are you here? What do you mean Damon saved a family? Where? How? When? Talk.”
Sage swallows, petting the top of her dog's head. “You’re much scarier than I anticipated.” She glances up at Quin, who nods.
His cool demeanor only irks me more. “Damon was driving me to my grandparents’ house when we saw the accident.
My partner is out of town for a couple of months, and I don’t have a car, so Damon offered to drive me. ”
My eyes harden. “He offered to drive you?”
She nods. “Yes. Like I said. We’re friends.” Sage looks down at her dog. “He plays fetch with us in the park sometimes. Not recently because of the whole…” Her gaze darts between Quin and me. “Well, the whole…break up situation.”
My face pales. “He told you about us?”
Before Sage can respond, Quin loops his arm around my waist and whispers, “I think we should all sit down, darling. You’re still weak. We need to sit.”
Sage frowns, giving my hospital gown a careful once-over. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” She gasps. “Is the baby okay?”
How the fuck does she know so much? As I open my mouth to spit out a slew of bitter comments, Quin's grip on me tightens, his gaze icy cold, no longer understanding.
“If you don’t sit down in the next ten seconds, I will carry you like a child.” He nods to the bed. “Now sit.”
Sage’s gaze drifts off down the hall as she chews on her lip, pretending to ignore the tension between us. I begrudgingly trudge back to the bed, glaring at Quin and Sage as they follow.
“There,” I say, perching on the edge of the mattress. “I’m sitting.” I look up at Sage, who shifts her weight uncomfortably between both legs. “Talk.”
She looks sheepishly at her feet. “I told him to tell you guys about me. I don’t know why he didn’t.
Well, that’s not true. Maybe I do.” She musters the courage to look at me.
“My mom died a few months ago from cancer. We, uh, I guess we bonded over that. Over our loss. He umm, he’s not…
” Her voice cracks, tears welling in her eyes.
“He’s not doing well. I-I tried to help him. I tried but he’s—”
“Stubborn,” Quin chimes in, posture tight. “Yes, we’re aware.” He studies her warily. “You’re not sleeping with him?”
My gut twists.
Sage shakes her head, sighing. “No. He made that up. When you saw me at his place, we were getting ready to go to dinner.” She glances at me. “Just dinner. I never slept with Damon. I promise.”
A twinge of relief washes over me.
“If you’re not fucking him, then why the hell would he keep your friendship a secret?” I ask, remnants of rage sticking to my tongue. “I don’t understand.”
Sage purses her lips. “Shame, if I’d have to guess. Maybe he didn’t want you to think you weren’t enough for him. Sometimes… Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger about grief than a loved one.”
“And he talked to you?” Quin asks, gesturing for Sage to take a seat in the armchair beside my bed.
She gives him a grateful smile as she plops down, her dog lying at her feet.
“He didn’t tell me everything. I know there’s a bunch that he left out, and that’s fine.
I respect his privacy.” She swallows, her gaze drifting between Quin and me.
“And your privacy as well. He made me sign an NDA, so you don’t need to worry about—”
“You blabbing to the press about the nature of our relationship is the least of my concerns right now,” I say, fingers curling around the base of the mattress.
I need to breathe. Quin is right. My life, my baby’s life, depends on my ability to manage stress.
Focus. I need to focus on what I can control.
My emotions. “You said there was a car accident?”
“Yeah. It all happened so fast. One second we’re sitting in traffic, the next this minivan flips over and Damon gets out of the car and runs toward the wreck.
” She sniffles. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve tried harder to keep him in the car.
I…” She closes her eyes, cheeks damp. “He saved three little boys and their parents. But the car was on fire and he—”
“Stop,” I say, chest hurting. “I don’t need to hear it. I know what happened after that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sage whispers. “I’m—”
“He’ll be okay,” Quin says, sidling up beside me as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Damon will be okay, darling. This is a great hospital. They’ll do everything they can to save him. I know they will.”
In moments of high-risk situations, in emergencies, Quinton comes off as disinterested and unattached.
A part of me fumes at his nonchalance. Damon is burnt and hurting, and possibly dying, and he shows nothing.
But another part of me, the part that’s grateful for rational minds and sober actions, appreciates his steady, grounded confidence.
One of us needs to be a rock, and it’s not me.
When it comes to my men, it’ll never be me.
A charged beat passes before Sage whispers, “He loves you.” I snap my gaze at her, eyes red and swollen. “No matter what he says or does, he loves you.” She looks at Quin. “Both of you. He’s just…” she trails off, sighing.
She doesn’t finish her sentence. Because there’s nothing left to say.
Hours crawl by, slow and torturous. All we can do is wait. There is literally nothing else we can do. I try not to cry. I try not to put more stress on my body, on my mind. I try so damn hard.
As we sit in the waiting room, none of us dare to speak, too afraid to utter a word of hope. Or a word of despair.
Finally, a doctor emerges from the double doors. "For Mr. Cavanaugh?" he calls out.
Quin, Sage, and I leap to our feet, rushing toward the man who holds our future in his hands.
“Is he okay?” I ask. “Is he alive?”
The doctor’s expression is unreadable. "Mr. Cavanaugh’s blood pressure dropped significantly during surgery but thankfully stabilized on its own.
He’s unconscious and in critical condition.
We’ll be moving him into the ICU shortly.
We’ll do everything in our power to make him comfortable, but given the DNR on file, if he falls into cardiac arrest, we won’t be able to revive him. "
My knees buckle, and both Quin and Sage lurch to grab me before I hit the floor.
"DNR?" I mutter, dread setting in. "What do you mean, a DNR?"
"There must be some sort of mistake," Quin adds, his voice panicked for the first time.
No…
The doctor shakes his head. "According to Mr. Cavanaugh's medical records at this hospital, there is a Do Not Resuscitate on file."
Quin’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. "When was that request filed?"
The doctor checks the clipboard, then mutters out the date.
"He wasn’t in his right mind that day. That request needs to be voided," Quin growls. “I swear, if you do nothing when that man is dying, I will sue this hospital for everything it’s worth.”
“Dr. Marquis, please…”
I frown, trying to piece together the significance of that date. "What happened that day?"
Quin looks down at me, his lip twitching. "It’s the day the helicopter crashed and his family died. The day he almost drowned." He glares at the doctor. “Like I said, not in his right mind.”
The doctor swallows. “Unfortunately, we cannot overturn a DNR. Only Mr. Cavanaugh’s power of attorney has that privilege.”
“Who…” my breath catches in my throat, “Who is Damon’s power of attorney?”
Quin clenches his fist. "I believe Javier and Josephine equally hold Damon's power of attorney."
“So, we just ask them to change it,” I say, pulse quickening. “They’ll change it. Of course, they’ll change it. They’re not going to let him die, right? They wouldn’t let him die. They wouldn’t.”
Quin’s expression falls grim as he looks at me. “Voiding the DNR would be going against Damon’s will. Josephine and Javier… They love Damon. They… They may want to honor his wishes, even if it means..."
I hate hospitals.
Something is always left behind.