Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ryan
A quick rapping knock on the door interrupts my session with Maya after I have barely sat down, and I want to growl at whoever it is to fuck off.
I haven’t seen her since she told me she needed space two days ago, when I was just about to tell her everything.
The little gasp she lets out and the reddening of her cheeks soften my anger instantly, though.
“I’m so sorry,” she says on a breathy exhale. “That must be Charlotte, and she would never interrupt a session unless it was—”
“It’s fine, please,” I encourage, seeing her discomfort at her professional bubble being interrupted. The urge to make the situation better takes over all else. “Go, make sure everything is okay.”
“I’ll be right back,” she assures me, and I smile at her, hoping it will soothe her anxiety.
Because Maya is clearly worried. I can smell it, and I hate it.
She walks brusquely toward the door and slips outside.
I tune out all other noise and focus on the conversation happening between the two women.
“I’m so sorry, Maya. Your mom rang when she couldn’t reach you on your cell. It’s your dad. He’s in the hospital.” Her harried tone sets my wolf on edge, and the mention of the hospital has me on alert.
“What did she say?”
“He collapsed. She just said you needed to come quickly.”
“I can’t just leave. I have a patient.”
“I can explain and offer him a free cancellation in the future?”
“If it were anyone else, but I’ve already had to leave him in the lurch once this week.”
“He’ll understand. It’s your dad, Maya.”
“I know,” Maya sighs, and my heart aches for her. “You’re right. I can’t be a therapist right now. Thanks, Charlotte. Sometimes I need the reminder that I’m human first.”
Maya fumbles at the doorknob before returning inside. Her hands shake, and there’s a glassy sheen covering her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’ve had a family emergency. I need to go to the hospital. Charlotte can rebook you, and of course there’s no char—”
“Maya,” I cut in. “You’re rambling. Don’t worry about today. No apologies needed. Family comes first.”
She lets out a breath of relief that I’m accepting of her life outside of her job without being a dick about it.
“Thank you for your understanding,” she says as she heads to her desk and grabs her bag and keys.
She’s so on edge, and all I want to do is make it better for her.
I wish I could hold her. I wish I could look after her.
But I can’t. Not as me. Not when I still don’t know for sure if she knows the truth.
And it’s not like I can stroll into the hospital wearing a mask.
Maya walks toward the door in a daze, bumping into her chair on the way. I reach out and grab her elbow to steady her. Her eyes dart to where my hand touches her and then up to my eyes. I let her go, much as it pains me.
“Sorry, you seemed unsteady there.”
“It’s… I’m fine,” she says. “I need to go. Traffic will be crazy at this time of day.”
“You can’t drive yourself.”
“What?” She blinks up at me for a second. “Of course, I can. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Your hands are shaking, Maya. You can’t drive yourself,” I say, my voice stern and leaving no room for arguments.
Her eyes tear up again, and the salty scent of them has my wolf ready to go to war.
She needs me. Even if she doesn’t see it.
Even if she doesn’t feel the bond like I do.
She needs her mate to take care of her right now.
Maya looks after everyone else. Her family, her patients. I want to be the one to look after her.
“I’ll drive,” I say, taking the key from her hand and walking toward the parking lot. Maya’s high-heeled shoes clip on the timber floor of the reception area as she races after my longer strides.
“Ryan, this is inappropriate and completely unnecessary. I can drive myself,” she protests as I use the key to find her car.
I open the passenger door for her, and she must really be in a daze because she gets in when I tell her to.
Or maybe that’s just her responding to me using the same tone I do when I command her body and bring her pleasure.
I lean in and engage her seatbelt before circling the car and climbing in.
“I know you can do it,” I say, realizing this is something we share—a need to look after everyone else and not let anyone see that we’re struggling. “But you don’t have to. Now, where to?”
Maya stares at me for a moment, blinking as she tries to process what’s happening. And then I send a silent prayer of thanks to the Moon Goddess when she directs me to the hospital.
We arrive twenty minutes later, and I drop Maya at the entrance door. She practically flees the car, running inside while I find somewhere to park.
Goddess, I hate hospitals. The cloying scent of antiseptics, the fluorescent lighting that burns my vision.
And the memories. Those hurt the most. They bombard me with images, and the feelings aren’t far behind.
How helpless I felt waiting for Dad to wake up after Mom rejected him and left him half dead.
The fear of losing him and taking on the role of alpha before I was ready hits me as if it were happening right now, not six years ago.
I push the reminders down and head toward the ICU, where the receptionist directed me as a ‘family friend.’ Maya sits huddled together with two women and the little girl I know to be her niece.
Sobs rack the older woman, but Maya just gazes forward.
Her eyes are unseeing as she stares into space while still offering reassurance.
“He’ll be okay, Mom. I know it’s serious, but he’ll be okay,” she soothes. Her mother cries harder and collapses against Maya. My wolf puffs out his chest with pride at seeing my mate and her strength. So capable of putting the needs of others before herself. She was born to be my luna.
We were made for each other. Made to be able to hold each other up so that we both have someone we can rely on when it gets tough.
I stand off to the side and watch them, not wanting to intrude on a private family moment.
After another thirty minutes or so, a doctor finally comes out to give them an update.
Maya’s dad went into a diabetic coma, something called DKA which the women seem to understand.
He should be okay but will need to stay for the next few days while they treat and monitor him.
“Can we see him?” Maya’s mother asks the doctor.
“I can let you in for ten minutes, but then you’ll need to wait until he’s stepped down from the ICU,” the doctor says, placing an arm softly on Maya’s mother’s arm. “But no children, unfortunately. And you will all need to gown up and wear masks.”
“That’s okay, you both go in,” Maya volunteers instantly, ever the selfless one. Ever the one putting herself last. “I’ll wait with Maddie and see him when he’s out of ICU.”
“I can watch her,” I volunteer, walking over to the group.
“Ryan,” Maya says, letting out a gasp and covering her mouth with a hand. “I didn’t know you were still here. I’m so sorry; you have my key. I can take—”
“You’re rambling again, Maya,” I say, gently cutting her off. “Go in and see your father. I’ll keep this little lady company.”
“Um, I don’t think…”
“We’ll stay right here so you can see us through the door,” I say, realizing she doesn’t trust me to leave her niece alone with me. Which is fair, she doesn’t know me fully yet. And this is obviously a step beyond our patient-therapist relationship. That doesn’t stop my wolf whimpering, though.
Maya hovers, and her sister looking me up and down curiously with bloodshot eyes.
“Ryan Rivera,” I say, offering her my hand. “I was with Maya when she got the call and drove her here. This is your daughter? Maddie?”
“Yes,” she says, taking my hand in a firm grip but looking to Maya. “Is he okay to leave with Maddie?”
“I have a younger sister,” I continue. “I’ve got this, and we’ll be right here where you can see us. I’ll check at the nurses' station to see if they have anything to color with.” I say the last part to the little girl with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and it gets a smile from her.
“I want to color,” she says as I urge Maya and her sister to go see their dad.
“Thank you,” Maya says before turning to her sister. “It’s okay. Maddie will be fine with him.”
Then they rush inside, leaving me and Maddie alone.
“Let’s see what we can wrangle from the nurses,” I say, and the little girl grins at me, clearly oblivious to the worries of everyone else.
The nurses only have a few different colored pens, and they shove some paper at me before rushing off.
I forget how much harder human healthcare professionals have it than what it’s like for Doc and the nurses.
The patients here are so damn breakable.
Maddie draws big looping circles on each page, running through them quickly.
“I like it better when I color in a picture instead of drawing,” she says with an adorable little huff. I glance back at the nurses' station, but there’s no way I’m going to ask them for anything else. They’re being run ragged.
“Would you like to color in the pictures here?” I ask, unbuttoning my cuff and rolling up my sleeve to reveal my tattooed arm.
It’s a risk to expose my ink in such a brightly lit area so close to Maya, but I want to keep Maddie happy.
I already know she doesn’t have a dad after listening to Maya and Pippa talking at lunch last week, and now her grandfather is unwell.
So when her little face lights up, I can’t help the smile that stretches across my own face.
Maya can’t have kids. She told me that already, and we’ll be okay without them.
But I wish it weren’t the case. I wish we could have a whole pack of pups or whatever they would be.
She would be an amazing mom, and I’ve had so much practice with Sofia.
I always wanted a big family. But Maya is more important than the potential of children.
Nothing is guaranteed in life, and we don’t need pups to be complete.
Perhaps we can look at other options once Maya and I are marked and mated. I haven’t asked her what the issue is, but maybe it’s something we can talk to Doc about. Maybe we could adopt. If Maya wants that.
I watch Maddie as she concentrates on filling in the gaps of my sleeve tattoo, a picture of pure concentration on her cherubic little face.
“Are you Auntie Maya’s boyfriend?”
“Not yet, Sweetheart. But hopefully one day.”
“Eeeew,” she grumbles, scrunching her nose up. “You can’t kiss her. That’s gross.”
“I’ll try not to,” I say with a chuckle.
“And you’ve gots to be nice to her.”
“That I can promise. I want to make her happy.”
“Cookies make me happy,” Maddie says thoughtfully, pausing her coloring for a brief moment. “Maybe you gets her a cookie?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Maya’s sister comes out and picks Maddie up. “Thank you,” she says with a soft smile as she notices my arm before I pull down my sleeve. “Granddad is being moved to a different room, and you can visit him tomorrow, baby.”
“Okay, Mama. Can the man come too? He let me color in his arm, and he’s gonna gets cookies so Auntie Maya will be his girlfriend.”
“Not quite how I remember that conversation,” I say, but Maya’s sister lets out a hearty laugh.
“I needed that.” She sighs. “I’m Pippa, by the way. Have we met? I feel like I know you…”
“I don’t think so, but I get what you mean.
” If she were a shifter, she would understand that we are family now.
I’m her sister’s fated mate, and that means she’s family to me too.
It’s why she trusted me with her daughter.
She won’t understand it though, and maybe I’ll never be able to explain it—some things are ineffable.
“Maya will be out in a minute,” Pippa says, helping Maddie into her coat.
“She’s just talking to the doctor again.
She’ll say no, but it would be great if you could give her a lift home and make sure she eats something.
And despite what this munchkin will tell you, Maya doesn’t have a sweet tooth. You can’t go wrong with steak, though.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, confusion and appreciation swirling inside me.
“Because Maya doesn’t let people in. But she let you drive her here, and she was happy to leave the most precious person in the world with you. Maya deserves to be happy, and my gut is telling me that you’ll be a part of that.”
I nod because I don’t want to let the emotion I’m feeling come out right now. I can’t release the happy tears that want to fall. Fates, I needed to hear that. It’s not all in my head.