47. Josie
FORTY-SEVEN
JOSIE
The flight back to Manhattan feels endless.
It isn’t fast enough.
The car ride from the airport also seems to take forever. It feels like we’re not moving fast enough to get to Pop.
I stare through the windshield as my leg bounces in front of me.
My fingers are still curled so tightly around Tyson’s hand that I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything about it.
He lets me clutch his hand in mine, keeping physical contact with him while it feels like everything around me is slipping out from under me.
I turn to look out the window, but I don’t really see anything. Nothing registers.
All I can think about is Pop. All I can see is him.
The way he smiled at me last week.
The way he teased me about Tyson.
The grief he gave me about Mouse.
The way, despite the slight shake of his hands when he lifted his drink to his lips, he looked fine. Normal.
And now…
“He’s going to be okay.” Tyson’s words cut through my thoughts.
I don’t realize there are tears streaming down my cheeks until he reaches out and swipes them away.
“I know,” I whisper, even though I don’t. I’m just trying to believe it because I need to hold onto something like hope right now. Hope’s all I’ve got until I know about what’s happened with him and what the future looks like.
I just hope Tyson’s right. I need his words to be true.
I get lost in worrying about Pop until the car slows, catching my attention. I look around, realizing we’re at the hospital.
My stomach drops.
The moment the car stops, Tyson’s out and opening the door for me. As soon as it’s open, I rush out.
“Jos—” he starts, but I’m already gone.
Tyson says something to the driver about taking Mouse and our things back to my address, but I don’t stay to listen to the rest of their conversation.
The air is sharp in my lungs as I rush toward the hospital entrance. My heart pounds so hard I can hear the rush of blood in my ears. Large automatic doors slide open, welcoming me in.
I don’t know what hits me first—the bright lights or the sterile smell of cleaning supplies. There’s a low hum of voices and machines as I make my way to the front desk.
“Hi,” I begin, my voice breathless as I approach the nurse at the computer. “My grandfather…he was brought in earlier. I’m looking for him.” My words are jumbled and come out way too fast.
The nurse looks at me with a comforting smile.
I take a deep breath in an attempt to get myself together. “Arthur Russell.”
She types something into her computer. It seems like forever until her gaze meets mine again. “He’s in the intensive care unit. Fifth floor, room five thirteen.”
Intensive care unit. That doesn’t sound good.
A hand finds the small of my back just as Tyson’s voice comes from behind me. “Can she see him?” he asks, keeping his voice composed.
The nurse’s eyes go wide as she takes in Tyson, but she nods. “Yes, you should be able to.”
I don’t wait for anything else. I turn and rush toward the elevators, needing to see Pop.
I can feel Tyson right behind me as I get one step closer to seeing the person who means most to me in the world.
The elevator ride is almost unbearable. It takes too long. It’s too slow and too quiet, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As we go up, Tyson takes my hand in his and gives me a reassuring squeeze. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t think there’s anything to really say.
Finally, there’s a soft chime, and I’m out of the doors before they have time to fully slide open.
My gaze travels over each of the room numbers, feeling like I’ll never make it to his room. The numbers almost blur together as I rush down the hallway. My heart pounds against my chest with every step. My chest is so tight it feels like I can’t even breathe.
“Right there,” Tyson says from behind me, pointing out Pop’s room.
He gives my hand another squeeze as we stop in front of the door. I falter for just a moment, terrified of what I’m going to find on the other side.
“I’ll be right out here,” Tyson tells me, his tone reassuring. I nod before pushing the door open, unable to be away from Pop for another moment.
The first thing that hits me as I step inside is how quiet the room is. It’s too quiet. Pop hates the quiet. He’s always got the TV on, watching some kind of Western movie or some kind of game. He’d hate how silent the room is right now.
My breath catches when my gaze lands on Pop.
The first thing I notice is how small he looks in the bed. His skin is paler than it was when I saw him last week. His eyes are closed, and as I take a step closer, I let out a small breath of relief when I see the rising and falling of his chest. It seems slow, but it’s something.
He’s alive. He’s here.
There are wires attached to him. Monitors are everywhere, and I don’t understand what any of it means.
“Pop?” I whisper. My voice sounds too loud in the stillness of his room.
He looks too fragile. He doesn’t respond to me. He doesn’t move.
Something inside me drops. I hate hospitals. I remember all the time spent here with Nan, and I hate being in the same position all over again with Pop.
I rush to his bedside, my hand immediately reaching for his. His skin looks too pale against mine. And I hate how limp his hand is in mine.
“Pop,” I repeat, a little louder this time, even with my voice breaking. “I’m here.”
No response.
The constant beep of the monitor fills the silence where his voice should be.
My vision blurs as tears spill down my cheeks before I can even stop them.
“He’s just resting,” I whisper to myself, hoping that if I say the words, they’ll be true. “He’s just resting…right?” My voice cracks on the last word.
A strong hand finds the small of my back.
I didn’t even hear him step into the room.
“He’s here and breathing,” Tyson assures me, his voice quiet but sure.
All I can do is nod, but breathing doesn’t feel like enough. Is it enough? It seems like the machines are doing the breathing for him.
None of this feels like him.
My world.
The man who teases me, tells me stories, who’s always been larger than life. Now, he’s fragile.
My grip tightens around his hand as I lean in closer, bringing my forehead to my grandfather’s. “You don’t get to leave me,” I get out, my voice shaking. “Do you hear me?”
He doesn’t answer.
I can’t help it. A sob escapes me. My shoulders shake as everything I’ve desperately been trying to hold together finally slips. “I should’ve been here with him,” I rush to get out through my tears. “He was all alone. Scared. I should’ve—”
“Josie.” Tyson’s voice is firm, but not harsh, just enough to pull me back.
His hand moves from my back to my arm, turning me slightly so I have to look at him. “There’s no way he could’ve known this would happen. He wasn’t alone. Beatrice is outside and has been with him the entire time. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
My entire body trembles as the tears keep coming.
“What if something’s really wrong? What if he doesn’t wake up?”
His eyes soften as he keeps his gaze pinned on mine. “We’re going to take it one step at a time.”
I nod, trying to let his words reassure me, but the fear of what’s going to happen to my grandfather doesn’t go away.
Tyson’s hand stays on my skin as I turn back to Pop. My fingers brush over the back of his wrinkled hand, memorizing the feel of it. Needing to feel his touch. “Please wake up,” I beg. “Please be okay, Pop.”
The machines continue to beep around me, and it’s just another reminder of where we are. Where he ended up.
For the first time, I realize just how close I am to losing him.
The thought hits me hard, because if I can lose Pop—the man who matters most to me in the world and the one family I have left—then I can lose anyone.
I can lose everyone.
My chest aches at the realization.
Because there’s someone else in my life now who I don’t want to lose. Someone I didn’t expect or plan for.
Someone standing right next to me.
My fingers tighten around Pop’s hand as I glance back at Tyson. His gaze is already on me, concern and affection written all over his face.
He’s here. For me. With me. And he might be the only thing keeping me together right now.
I don’t think I could do this alone, and because of him, for the first time in my life…I don’t want to do it alone. I want him by my side. I’m okay with needing him here.
As if he can read my mind, Tyson leans forward and presses his lips to my temple. “I’m here, Josie. I’m here with you.”
He has no idea how much those words go straight to my heart. How much I needed to hear them. How much I need him.