Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Trees zoom past in a blur of gold and crimson, the highway lined with fallen leaves that scatter when the wind kicks up.
I’ve been counting down the hours all week—fidgeting over my research publication draft, unable to focus during last night’s evening class.
Through it all, my thoughts kept circling back here, to Claremont Shores. To him.
By the time I pull into the trailer park, my stomach is already a knot of nerves and excitement. Mason’s place looks the same as always—dirty white siding, flickering porch light—but the sight of it hits me like a jolt of caffeine.
Before I can even shut off my car, the screen door swings open.
Mason barrels down the steps two at a time, the chilly autumn air clouding with his breath.
He doesn’t stop running until he’s right in front of me, yanking open my car door.
Then his hands are cupping my face, his mouth crashing into mine with a searing heat.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.
I laugh into the kiss, a little dazed. “We literally talked on the phone this morning.”
He shakes his head, resting his forehead against mine. “Hearing your voice doesn’t compare to this,” he says, squeezing my hips. “Doesn’t even come close.”
My face feels hot as he grabs my hand, tugging me inside the trailer. Maddie rushes down the narrow hallway before I can even take my shoes off.
“Hunter!” she squeals, wrapping me in a hug so tight I almost lose my balance. I hug her back, grinning into her hair. She looks taller somehow, though it’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her.
“Hey, Mads.” I give her a squeeze before she lets go.
Over her shoulder, my gaze lingers on Anna’s open bedroom door. She’s curled in her bed, a blanket pulled up to her chest. She’s lost more weight, and an oxygen cannula trails from her nose, the tubing looping over her ears. She stirs faintly but doesn’t wake.
Mason clears his throat, his hand tightening around mine like he’s urging me to keep moving. “Come on,” he says quietly, steering me toward the dining room.
On the table sits a vegetarian pizza, steam curling from the open box. Maddie bounces into the chair beside me, already grabbing a slice. Mason slides in across from me, his expression forced into something lighter.
I take a slice, the melted cheese stretching as I pull it free. The three of us eat together in the cramped little dining room, the pizza warm between us, as Maddie rambles about high school drama and gossip.
“So,” Maddie says suddenly, talking around a mouthful of cheese, “did you tell Hunter the good news yet?”
I raise an eyebrow at Mason. “Good news?”
Mason swallows, his ears tinged with pink. “Oh, right. I, uh… got my acceptance letter for re-admission next semester. Already signed up for classes.”
My eyes widen, excitement surging through me. “Seriously?! That’s amazing!”
Without thinking, I reach across the table, sandwich his face between my palms, and kiss him. He tastes faintly of peppermint and smells like that bodywash that’s so distinctly him—fresh pine with a hint of bourbon.
Maddie gags dramatically. “Ugh, get a room.”
Mason smiles against my lips, flipping her off without breaking the kiss.
***
I wake up in Mason’s bed to the sound of shouting.
At first, I think I’m still dreaming—stuck in some kind of nightmare where I can’t move—but then the voices sharpen, frantic and real. I jolt upright, my chest pounding.
The space next to me is empty, the sheets still warm with the memory of Mason’s body heat.
“Mason?” My voice cracks.
No answer. The shouting rises again, muffled through the thin walls.
I stumble out of bed, bare feet landing on stained carpet, and follow the noise down the hall.
The door to Anna’s room is wide open. Inside, Maddie leans against the wall, sobbing so hard her whole body shakes. Anna lies motionless on the floor. Mason kneels beside her, phone jammed between his ear and shoulder.
“Her pulse is slow,” he says into the receiver, fingers pressed to her wrist. He pauses, listening to the dispatcher’s questions. “I don’t know what happened. She said she was feeling weak and her vision was going black, and then she fell.”
My stomach knots as Anna’s mouth works around each shallow breath, lips pale and cracked. She stirs faintly, a wet rasp escaping her throat. When she tries to speak, the words stumble out broken and slurred, her tongue refusing to cooperate.
Maddie collapses against me as I step beside her. I wrap an arm around her trembling shoulders, helpless as she sobs into my chest.
“Mom, hey, stay with me,” Mason urges, brushing damp hair from Anna’s face. “You’re okay. Just keep looking at me.”
Her eyes roll side to side, unfocused. She mumbles something incoherent, then her head lolls against the carpet.
“Mom!” Mason shakes her gently, panic ripping through his voice. He bends low, ear hovering over her mouth. His whole body goes rigid. “She’s not breathing.”
The phone slips from his shoulder and hits the floor. He switches the call to speaker mode, fingers shaking so hard he almost drops it again.
“We’re still a few minutes out,” the dispatcher’s voice crackles. “We’ll guide you through CPR—”
“No,” Mason cuts them off, voice breaking but fierce. “It’s fine. I’m a lifeguard—I’ve done this before.”
He laces his hands together and starts compressions, his whole body driving into the rhythm with brutal precision. The sharp crack of ribs gives way beneath his palms, the sound slicing through the air. My skin prickles.
Maddie whimpers and buries her face in my neck. I curve my arm around her head, shielding her as best I can, though there’s no hiding the sharp thud of Mason’s palms hitting bone and his frantic, ragged breaths.
“Come on, Mom,” he pleads between counts, sweat dripping down his temples. His own breath wavers with every push. “Come on, come on…”
He tilts Anna’s chin back, seals his mouth over hers, and breathes. When her chest doesn’t rise, he repeats the cycle helplessly, whispering to her as he gives her more compressions, tears sliding down his cheeks.
The wail of sirens cuts through the quiet morning air. A moment later, the door rattles open as paramedics flood the tiny trailer. Mason doesn’t stop until one of them kneels beside him and lays a steady hand on his shoulder.
Mason stumbles back, chest heaving, hands trembling. One medic takes over compressions without missing a beat. Another pulls out an oxygen mask, the tank hissing as they fit it over Anna’s mouth and nose.
“Still no pulse,” someone calls out.
Electrode pads are stuck to her chest, the small monitor flickering to life with a sharp electronic beep. A flat line wavers across the screen.
“Continuing CPR,” the lead medic says.
Maddie clings tighter to me, trembling so hard I can feel it in my own bones. Mason stands frozen beside us, tears sliding down his cheeks as the room fills with the heavy thud of compressions, clipped commands, and the soft hum of machinery.
“Got a rhythm!” someone shouts a moment later. The monitor chirps with a faint, stuttering pulse.
“Okay, let’s move,” the medic says. “We’re taking her now.”
They strap Anna into the stretcher with practiced efficiency. The mask on her face is fogged with her breath, her eyes still closed, head flopped to the side.
“Sir, are you riding with us?” the medic asks Mason.
“Yes,” Mason blurts immediately. His eyes flick toward me, desperate. “Can you give Maddie a ride and meet us at the hospital?”
I nod quickly. “Yes, of course.”
They wheel Anna outside and load her into the ambulance. Mason climbs in and clutches her bony hand, thumb smoothing over the protruding veins.
Maddie sniffles beside me. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently as I guide her toward my car.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”
***
Bright fluorescent lights hang overhead in the waiting room, filling the sterile space with cool-toned light.
The stiff chairs dig into my back, but I haven’t moved in hours.
Maddie’s head rests against my shoulder, her breaths slow and even, finally worn down from crying. My arm feels numb under her weight.
Every time a nurse in scrubs passes by, I lift my head, waiting, hoping—but no one has come to talk to us yet. The anticipation claws at my insides.
The automatic doors slide open, and a familiar figure walks inside with frantic urgency.
Stephen walks toward us, his mechanic’s jumpsuit stained with grease, hair sticking up in all directions. He looks exhausted, but when his eyes land on me and Maddie, something softens in his expression.
“Hi, Hunter,” he greets quietly, lowering himself into the chair beside me. “It’s good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. Same.”
“Have you heard any news about Anna yet?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s been hours.”
He hums. “She’s a strong woman. She’ll be fine.”
I want to believe him, but the way she looked this morning, unresponsive and lying on the floor—it was a terrifying sight. She’s a shell of the woman she used to be.
For a moment, we just sit in the silence, broken by the occasional beeping from down the hall. Throughout the waiting area, patients and families sit together, filling the room with a mixture of coughs, sniffles, and whispers.
Stephen glances sideways at me, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “So, I heard you and Mason are official now.”
My throat tightens, but I can’t help the way my lips curve. “Yeah. We are.”
“I’m happy for you two. He… he deserves to be happy.”
Something in me eases at his words. It’s strange—Stephen used to feel like an evil shadow over Mason’s past, but right now, all I see is someone who cares about him, about Maddie, about their whole family.
I glance down at Maddie, her small hand still clutching mine even in sleep, and whisper, “Thanks, Stephen.”
He leans back in his chair, eyes closing for a moment. “Just… take care of him, alright? He’s been carrying too much alone for too long.”
“I will,” I promise, and I mean it.
A few minutes later, a doctor emerges from the I.C.U. corridor, clipboard tucked in her arms. She glances down at her paperwork before scanning her eyes across the waiting area.
“Is the family of Anna Burke here?” she asks.
Stephen springs to his feet. I gently jostle Maddie’s shoulder until her eyes flutter open. She blinks groggily before stumbling up, clinging to my arm as we hurry toward the doctor.
“Yes, we’re here,” Stephen exhales. “How is she?”
The doctor’s lips press into a thin line.
“Anna suffered an ischemic stroke. That can happen in patients with advanced, metastatic breast cancer.” She exhales quietly before continuing.
“There’s also a significant amount of fluid in her lungs, so she’s been placed on a ventilator.
Given her history of drug and alcohol use, her organs aren’t functioning well.
” Her voice softens. “I’m very sorry, but I’d be surprised if she makes it through the night. ”
My stomach drops. Maddie collapses into Stephen, crying in his chest as he holds her and rubs her back. Her broken sobs muffle into his clothes.
I manage to find my voice. “Can we see her?”
“Yes,” the doctor nods, “but I need to warn you—she won’t be responsive.”
We follow her down the stark hallway. The scent of disinfectant and the steady hum of machines grows louder with every step. She pushes open the door to a small, dimly lit room.
Mason is already there, sitting at his mom’s bedside.
His fingers are laced tightly with hers, his thumb stroking the back of her frail hand.
The sight of Anna makes my skin crawl—she looks so small, so fragile, swallowed by the hospital bed.
Thin tubes snake from her arms to IV bags.
A ventilator hisses rhythmically, each breath mechanical.
Mason doesn’t look up when we enter. His shoulders are hunched, his face pale, eyes rimmed red.
Stephen closes the distance first. He bends down and wraps an arm around Mason. To my surprise, Mason doesn’t flinch or shove him off. He leans into the embrace, his lip wobbling as he tries to hold back more tears.
I hang back across the room, watching as Maddie brushes a hand through Anna’s hair. Her quiet sniffles break the silence between the beeping monitors and whirring machines. My chest feels tight as I watch them—their whole family drawn together in this impossible, unbearable moment.
I step to Mason’s side, squeezing his shoulder. He looks up at me through damp eyes, anguish and exhaustion written all over his face. He tilts his head to kiss the back of my hand.
“Thank you for being here,” he says quietly.
I swallow my own tears, trying to be strong for him. “Always.”