35. Liam
thirty-five
Liam
C old sweat sticks my black t-shirt to my skin as I take my fourteenth lap around the hospital.
I’m not typically an anxious person. Stress was never a factor for me when I was in the limelight, mostly because I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought outside of the band.
Right now, though, I’m a wreck internally.
The waiting game is killing me. I’ve left someone I love in the hands of strangers—professional doctors, no less—but that doesn’t ease the churning sickness in my gut.
That doesn’t change the fact that there’s a chance I won’t see that dimpled smile ever again.
A chance he won’t ever hold an instrument or write another song.
No matter the result of this surgery, I’m going to be here for him. I just worry about the aftermath. How crushed he’ll be if he doesn’t bounce back like he expected to.
Stopping at the small booth in the lobby once more, I order another two cups of steaming coffee and a club sandwich. I ride the shaky elevator back up to hand the food and extra drink over to Stasi in the designated waiting area of the neuro unit .
“Thank you,” she murmurs, setting a notebook aside with details on Hail and Z’s upcoming wedding. After tearing into the wrapper, she takes a big bite and slumps in satisfaction.
Just as much as I’ll be monitoring Beau, I’ll be doing the same for her. Stasi will take on the weight of the world, willing to let it crush her if it means keeping it off the shoulders of others.
I took her phone two hours into Beau’s surgery so people would stop hounding her for updates. I’ve been communicating with Dave personally.
I’m not gonna lie, it would be easier to relax if I had a cigarette, but I decided to quit that shit on the flight to retrieve Beau, terrified I would contribute to the growth of that stupid fucking tumor if he was exposed to more smoke.
I pace the neuro waiting area for a little while, only taking a seat when I notice that I’m distracting the nurses at the station.
Stasi leans against my side, resting her head on my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Liam. You’re good for us."
I lace our fingers together and give her hand a squeeze. Right as I’m about to tell her all the ways she makes me better, Dr. Malone strides into the waiting room. She claps her hands together, breaking the tension in the air.
“He did fantastic. Surgery went as expected. I believe we were able to remove all of the tumor, but we need to wait for pathology results to confidently say we got it all.”
Stasi releases a breath and nods. “Thank you.”
“I do want to set some expectations,” Dr. Malone continues.
“We’ve got him in the ICU for monitoring.
When he wakes up, we may see some speech and mobility difficulties with the swelling in his brain.
Maybe even into his recovery at home. He’s going to want to sleep, which is a good thing.
His body needs to heal. We’ll make sure he’s set up with all the care he needs once he’s stable and ready to be released. ”
“Of course,” Stasi replies.
I can practically hear the gears whirring in her head, ready to make a battle plan to get Beau back on his feet and smiling again.
“We’ll let you two come back as soon as possible.”
With that, Dr. Malone leaves us. I wrap an arm around Stas and pull her against my chest.
“Our Beau is safe,” I murmur, kissing her temple.
And as soon as we’re able to confirm that his tumor is fully gone, no trace of cancer, we’ll all be able to resume normal life. That's the hope, at least.
“You need anything?” I ask.
Sucking in a deep breath, Stasi sits up and looks at me. “Yeah. For you to stop drinking coffee. Your entire body is vibrating.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough.”
Gently, she pushes at my chest. “Go do another lap. Leave my phone.”
Sighing, I hand it over and escape outside. I shoot off a text to Hail to check in on the dog currently under his care. Then I scroll up through his barrage of older texts I left unanswered, unable to give reason to my recent, strange behaviors.
I respect that Stasi isn’t ready to explain how I fit into the puzzle with her and Beau. I have no right to push anything when I spent most of my life terrified of relationships.
When the fuck did you get a dog???
Is this a mid-life crisis?
Is dog a code word for something else?
Yes, I’ll watch your dog.
A new photo pops up of Hail holding Cosmo in one arm. The dog’s pink tongue is pressed against the side of his face.
He’s deprived of your love, just like me.
Snorting, I pocket my phone.
After a brisk walk to burn off some of my anxious energy, I reenter the hospital. By the time I make it back up to the neuro floor, a nurse meets us in the waiting area. “He’s awake if you want to visit for a few minutes.”
Stasi pops up, and I let her lead. Each step towards Beau’s room takes effort. A conscious decision not to bolt.
I didn’t feel this torn up when my dad died. I didn’t feel anything at all watching as he was lowered into the ground.
I’m mentally preparing myself for what we’ll see when we walk into Beau's room. Still, one look at him laid out in the bed, head wrapped like a mummy, wires practically dripping off his body, punches the air from my lungs.
Again, I’m overcome by a sense of loss for the years we could have shared together.
Why did I wait so long to make him mine?
It’s hard accepting that I needed so much time to realize what was within my reach. Beau’s recovery is going to take time, too, and I can’t say that doesn't scare the shit out of me.
With unsteady legs, I approach his bed as his closed eyelids twitch. Stasi takes his hand, careful not to touch his IV or disturb any of the tubes or cords.
“Sweetheart?” he mumbles.
“It’s me. Liam’s here, too. ”
His head rolls in my direction. He cracks open his eyes, winces, and immediately shuts them once more. “…bad is it? How bad…do…look?”
His words are coming slower than usual. I suppose it could be worse.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t lose it.
I don’t like seeing him like this. Not when I’ve grown used to his energy and the spark of mayhem in his blue eyes.
He’s the one that brings color to my days. The one that makes Stas smile.
“Good,” Stasi says, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You look perfect, Beau.”
His brows furrow as he strains to push himself into an upright position. I quickly touch a hand to his shoulder. “Don’t. Just… rest. I got her.”
His chest rises and falls with a heavy breath. “Yeah. Tired.”
In a matter of seconds, his heart rate monitor slows as sleep claims him.
I post up in Beau’s hospital room for five straight days once he’s moved out of the ICU. No fucking way I’m missing his release this time.
Stasi wasn’t pleased about having to return to normal hours at work, but she’s grateful I have the luxury of flexibility. When I offered to hire her, I got a lecture about foolishly throwing my money around. So, I started funneling money into research organizations for brain tumors.
I also promoted Emma. She tried to fight me on the raise, claiming the title alone was enough since she’s now officially able to boss Hail and Walter around.
Not that she wasn’t already doing that. But I managed to convince her that she’s worth every bit of the bigger paychecks I’m sending her way .
Honestly, I’m looking forward to the comical outfits she’s about to show up in after a healthy shopping spree. And if she doesn’t go shopping, I’ll “foolishly” throw some more money her way.
“This feels unnecessary,” Beau complains as I wheel him out to Stasi’s awaiting SUV at the hospital entrance. “I can walk just fine.”
I glance down and catch the muscles in his right arm straining as he tries to move it. My chest tightens.
“Still not cooperating?” I ask.
He tips his head back to look up at me. The stripe of rebellious white in his hair was unfortunately lost to the trimmers to prepare for his surgery.
“It’ll be okay,” he says.
But there’s no conviction in his voice. Unease rushes through me. Beau will lie all day long if he believes his true feelings will be a burden on someone else.
How the fuck did I end up with the two sweetest people in this world?
He’s definitely more concerned about regaining sensation in his arm than he’s letting on.
Stasi has him set up with the best PT in the area, and she’ll be monitoring his exercises at home as well.
But he’s already gotten a stern talking to from the nurses for rubbing his wrist and hand raw, like he can will the feeling back into his damaged nerves.
Mindful of his stitches, I ease my sunglasses onto his face, knowing he’s still sensitive to the light.
Thankfully, Beau’s pathology results came back benign.
Even with that victory, his health will require lifelong monitoring.
Neurologist follow-ups and continual MRIs, checking for regrowth.
I also took Dr. Malone’s suggestion and got Beau set up with therapy sessions to help mitigate any changes in his emotional state that may spring up over time .
As I push him up to the passenger door, Stasi hops out and rushes over. We both hover, hands poised, as Beau climbs into the car.
“Is this how it’s gonna be for a while?” he grumbles.
“Go ahead and try to push us away,” Stasi fires back, brown eyes heated.
We both watch her stomp over to the driver’s side in awe.
“I miss sex already,” Beau murmurs.
I avoid adjusting my semi. “Focus on recovering.”
Sinking deeper into the seat, he shuts his eyes. “I’m gonna recover so good . Get ready.”
With a huffed laugh, I tuck myself into the seat behind Stas so I can have eyes on Beau the entire drive home.
As soon as we pull into my garage, I hop out of the car. “Hold the troublemaker hostage for a minute.”
I wrangle the excited dog into the backyard before returning to help walk Beau inside.
“Bed or couch?” Stasi asks.
“No more bed. I beg of you,” Beau replies quickly.
She prepares him a spot on the couch, dragging down pillows and blankets from the spare bedroom. When we get him comfortable, she arranges his paperwork and medications on the kitchen island.
I pull an end table beside him, setting him up with a bottle of water, fruit snacks and chips, electronic devices, and the remote for the TV.
“I appreciate both of you more than I could ever express, but we’re going to have to tone this shit down. I’m exhausted just watching the two of you rush around. Will you come snuggle with me, please?”
Stas and I exchange a look. Dropping onto the couch, I lift Beau's socked feet and set them on my lap. Stasi curls up against his side, half draped over his torso .
Beau turns on a football game and ends up passing out in the first quarter. Neither of us wants to move, fearful of waking him.
“Friday night. You staying over?” I glance at Stasi.
She bites her lip. “I could…”
My pulse hitches. “You could stay every night until he’s through recovery. You make him happy.”
Big brown eyes lock on me. “Are you serious?”
“Do I joke much, Anastasia? Yes, I’m serious.”
Her fingers curl into the fabric of Beau’s gray hoodie. “Do I make you happy?”
I lean over Beau’s body to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already know the answer to that, angel.”
“Mmm.” She gives me a soft smile. “Just fishing for compliments.”
“Then yes. You make me happy.”
She nuzzles her cheek against my hand. "Yeah. I’ll stay until he’s back on his feet.”