Chapter 34 Kingston #2
"She shouldn't have to adapt. This shouldn't have happened."
Fiona studies me for a long moment. "You love her."
"More than my own life."
"Then you understand why I called ya,” she whispered, giving the room a sweep with worried eyes. “Why I broke thirty years of silence about my husband's business."
I look at her, face carefully made up, hair perfectly in place. But her gaze holds a fear that chills my bones.
"You could have lost everything," I say. "If Cormac finds out you warned me—"
"Let him find out. I've been a good wife for long enough. Kept my mouth shut, played my part. But I won't watch my daughter die for his ego. You did everything you could to save her and I will always be grateful to ya for that."
Across the waiting room, Cormac and my father are involved in some heated conversation, probably about territory and responsibility and who's to blame for this shit show.
"Tell me about her," Fiona says. "How is she? Really?"
The question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"
"I haven't seen my daughter since the wedding and have barely spoken to her. How is she handling this arrangement?"
"She plays violin every morning. Makes coffee that's too weak. Argues with me about everything."
A small smile crosses Fiona's face. "That sounds like Livvie."
"She's been scared," I admit. "The Tribunal's order… it was tearing her apart. Trying to protect everyone, knowing she couldn't."
"She always did that. Even as a child. Tried to carry the world on her shoulders."
"She doesn't have to anymore. That's my job now."
Fiona reaches over and pats my hand. The gesture is so motherly, so unexpected, that it nearly breaks me. My own mother didn’t bother to show a single shred of empathy.
"She adores ya,” she says. “I’ve never heard her talk about anyone the way she talks about you.”
"Yeah,” I scoff. “And look where that got her."
"It got her a man who would storm into hell to save her. A man who loves her enough to take on the most dangerous organization in the city. A man who sees her as more than just a pawn in someone else's game."
Before I can respond, Dr. Chen emerges from the surgical wing. His scrubs are clean this time, which could be good or bad. A sudden quiet falls over us all as we hold our breath for the news.
"The artery is repaired," he announces. "Blood flow has been restored."
Relief crashes over me, but I can sense there is more.
"And the nerve damage?"
"The brachial plexus was severely traumatized. We did what we could, but it's too early to tell the extent of permanent damage. She may regain full function, or she may have permanent weakness and numbness in her left arm."
Livvie's left arm. Her fingering hand. The hand that creates music.
"What are the odds?" I ask.
"Honestly? Fifty-fifty. The next few weeks will tell us more as the swelling goes down and we can assess nerve function."
"When can I see her?"
"She's being moved to the ICU now. Once she's stable, immediate family can visit. But she'll be unconscious for several more hours."
He gives us the room number and leaves. I'm already heading for the elevator when both fathers try to corner me.
"Kingston, we need to discuss what happened," Dad says.
"Not now."
"The Tribunal won't just disappear. We need a plan to handle this mess," Cormac adds.
"I said not now." I turn to face them both. "My wife is unconscious. Your politics will wait until after I see her. Understood?"
"This isn't politics," Cormac snaps. "This is survival."
I glare at him. "Then you should have thought about that before you let them threaten your daughter."
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside. Fiona follows me.
"May I?" she asks.
I nod. The doors close on Cormac and my dad. Fuck them for putting us here in the first place.
"They’ll never understand," she says as we ride up.
"No. They won't."
"But you do."
"I understand that she almost died because of this life. One she never wanted to be part of but got forced back into. And I understand that she might never play violin again because they were too weak to put family first."
The elevator stops at the ICU floor. As we walk down the hallway, Fiona leans in and holds my arm as she speaks.
"When Livvie was little, maybe six years old, she found an injured bird in our garden.
Tiny thing with a floppy wing. She insisted on nursing it back to health.
Cormac said it was pointless. That the bird would die anyway, that she should let nature take its course.
But Livvie refused. She fed it with an eyedropper, kept it warm, and talked to it for hours. "
We reach Livvie's room. Through the window, I see her beautiful form against the stark white of the hospital bed, tubes and wires everywhere. My stomach fucking churns.
"Did it live?" I ask.
"For three weeks. And when it died, she cried for days. Cormac said she was foolish for getting attached to something that had an expiry date."
Fiona looks at me with green eyes that mirror her daughter's.
"But I think she learned something important that day. That even if ya can't save something, it's worth trying. It's worth caring."
I shake my head and sigh. "She almost died trying to save me."
"Because that's who she is. That's who I raised her to be." Fiona's voice is fierce with maternal pride. "And you love her for it."
I do. God help me, I do.
The ICU is sterile and quiet, except for machines beeping like electronic heartbeats. Livvie’s left shoulder is wrapped in bandages, her arm immobilized. But she's breathing. Her heart is beating. She's alive.
I sink into the chair beside her bed and take her good hand in mine. Her skin is cold, but there's still a pulse beating in her wrist.
"I'm here, princess," I whisper. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Fiona takes the chair on the other side of the bed. For a while, we just sit in the quiet, watching Livvie breathe.
"If she can't play anymore," I say finally, "if that bullet took away her music…"
"Then you'll help her find new music," Fiona says. "That's what love does."
A nurse comes in to check vitals, smiling at us. "Are you family?"
"Husband," I say.
"Mother," Fiona adds.
"She's stable. Heart rate is good, blood pressure is coming up. The anesthesia should wear off in a few hours."
"Will my baby girl be okay?" Fiona asks.
The nurse hesitates. "The doctors will know more when she wakes up. Right now, we have no choice but to wait."
Wait. The hardest thing for a man like me to do.
I lean forward in the chair, pressing my lips to Livvie's hand. All that matters is my wife waking up. Everything else can wait.
But as the hours tick by and machines continue their electronic symphony, one thought keeps circling through my mind.
If she can't play violin anymore, if that bullet took away the thing she loves most, how do I live with being the reason her music died?
The thought sits in my chest like a lead weight, and I squeeze her hand tighter, willing her to squeeze back.
Willing her to come back to me.
Willing her to stay forever without hating me…