Chapter 38 Alex
ALEX
Seven days.
Seven excruciating, unbearable, soul-crushing days.
That’s how long I’ve been sitting in this fucking chair, holding her hand, watching her slip further and further away from me. Seven days of waiting, of hoping, of pleading with the universe to give her a break.
She’s worse than we ever imagined she could be.
Her skin has lost its warmth, her body is smaller and more fragile, swallowed by the tangle of wires and tubes literally keeping her alive.
The ventilator hums beside her, forcing air into her lungs, and I hate it.
I hate every beep of the machines, every shift in the monitors, every sterile, clinical reminder that she is hanging by a thread.
I don’t know how I’m still standing.
I haven’t left this room. I don’t sleep. I barely eat. The others try to make me. Cam brings food when he can, Sophia brings me coffee and pastries from the bakery.
None of it matters.
I don’t need sleep, or food, or anything. I only need her.
I finished reading the book to her yesterday.
I read every word, even when I had to stop to breathe through the ache in my chest. I don’t know if she heard me or if she even can hear me.
But I read anyway, because it’s her favorite.
Because that story is ours. And because I have nothing else to give her except my voice and my presence and the desperate, broken pieces of myself that are left.
I’ve told her stories. I’ve whispered all the things I never had the guts to say when she was awake—how beautiful she is, how she drives me insane, how she has owned every part of me from the very beginning. I’ve begged her to stay. Pleaded with her to fight.
But the longer she stays like this, the harder it is to believe she’s coming back.
And then, when there is nothing but machines beeping the silence of the night, the door slams open as if finally answering all my prayers.
I jolt upright, my heart lurching as Dr. Rivera storms into the room.
“We found a match!”
I stop breathing. For a full three seconds, my brain refuses to process what he said.
A match.
A new heart.
My lips part, but there are no words.
Dr. Rivera steps closer. “We’re going to prep her for surgery right now.”
A sound rips from my throat, something between a gasp and a sob, and suddenly, I’m shaking. My entire body trembles and my chest heaves with a relief so violent it nearly knocks me to the ground.
“Are—are you serious?” My voice raw from the overwhelming shock.
There is something that resembles pity in his eyes. “Yes. But Alex, listen to me. It’s a complicated surgery. We can’t make any guarantees. But this is her best shot.”
My stomach twists, the fear creeping back in like poison. “Will she wake up?” I question.
He hesitates.
I fucking hate the hesitation.
“We hope so.” I see the caution in his eyes. “We’ll do everything we can.”
The nurses rush in, moving with purpose, preparing her for what comes next. Everything is happening too fast and I feel helpless.
Lunging forward before they can take her away, I grab her one last time.
“Emma, baby,” I choke out, barely more than a breath. “They found a heart. Do you hear me? You’re getting a new heart.” A tear slips down my cheek, landing on her skin. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I can’t do this without you. I love you. I love you so much. I need you to come back to me.”
They start moving her. I follow, holding onto her fingers for as long as I can until a nurse forces me to stop, and then she’s gone. My whole body collapses forward in the empty room, hands braced against my knees as I struggle to catch my breath.
I fumble for my phone, fingers still shaking as I dial. Cam picks up after two rings.
“What’s wrong, man?” He sounds half-asleep. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“They found a heart.”
There’s only silence, then a sharp inhale.
“Holy shit.”
“They took her back to surgery now.” I scrub a hand over my face, breath unsteady. “They don’t know what’s gonna happen. But—” My voice catches. “This is it, Cam. This is her only chance.”
Another pause. “I’ll be there soon.”
The line goes dead. I stare at the empty space where she was just lying, where she has been for seven fucking days, and I don’t know how to exist without her in this room.
My hands are still trembling. My heart is still racing.
Hope and fear crash into me like waves, battling for dominance, and I don’t know which one will win.
I just know that I will not survive if I lose her.
The wait is unbearable. Time slows, stretching each minute into an eternity. I feel every single one of them, dragging like an anchor in my chest. Every breath feels too loud, every heartbeat too fast.
Cam showed up an hour ago. He messaged everyone the update—Leo, Frankie, Liv and Sophia, even messaged Dallas in New York—but told them to wait until morning for any visiting.
There is nothing any one of us can do now except hope, and waking them in the middle of the night wouldn’t change the outcome.
He now sits beside me in the dimly lit waiting room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’s praying. He might be. I think I might be too, in my own way. Neither of us says much.
What the hell is there to say?
Eight hours.
That’s how long it takes. Eight hours of agony, of pacing and sitting and standing and sitting again. Eight hours of trying to keep the panic at bay, of running my hands over my face, gripping my hair, digging my nails into my palms just to feel something other than the fear clawing at my throat.
Finally, Dr. Rivera appears.
I shoot to my feet, chest locking so tight I can barely breathe. Cam does the same beside me, his movements stiff and tense like he’s bracing for impact.
Dr. Rivera takes a breath before speaking. “The surgery was successful.”
The world stutters and I stagger back a step, gripping the chair beside me to stay upright. My ears are ringing and for the first time in seven fucking days, I feel like I can at least take a breath again.
But Dr. Rivera isn’t finished.
“The next twenty-four hours are crucial,” he says, steady and calm, but laced with the same warning I’ve heard too many times.
“Her body has been through significant trauma, and there’s always a risk of rejection.
We’ll monitor her closely, watch for signs of complications, infection, or her body rejecting the heart.
Right now, she’s stable. That’s all we can ask for at this stage. ”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus again. “Will she wake up?”
“We hope so,” he says. “We’re optimistic, but only time will tell. She’s sedated for now, and when we begin reducing the sedation, we’ll see how she responds. It could take a few days.”
A few days.
Another stretch of waiting. More hell to endure.
“She’s been moved to the cardiac ICU,” he continues. “You can see her, but only one at a time.”
Cam looks at me, but he already knows. “Go,” he says, nodding toward the doors. “I’ll wait.”
I was going to make sure I was the one to see her first, regardless, so there was no hesitation at his words.
The beeping of significantly more machines than before is the first thing I hear when I step inside her room.
The sight nearly knocks me down. She looks even smaller in the bed than before, pale and fragile against the stark white sheets.
There are more wires, more tubes, more reminders that she is still fighting for her life.
The ventilator is still there. The countless bruises from IVs and blood draws stand out against her skin.
I know beneath the hospital gown, there’s a fresh scar down the center of her chest.
I move to her side, gripping the rail of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping me from collapsing. My eyes blur with tears.
“Princess,” I whisper, reaching for her hand.
It’s warm, warmer than it was before, and that alone nearly undoes me.
I laugh, but it comes out wet and broken.
“You did it, baby. You made it through the worst part. They said you need to rest. I get it, but I’m selfish and want you to wake up soon.
When you’re ready, okay? I’ll be here.” My thumb strokes over her knuckles, tears slipping down my cheeks.
I don’t bother wiping them away this time.
“I love you.” I remind her, through the tears.