Chapter 50
FIFTY
We get as comfortable in the room as we can, since Noah will be staying. After a few hours, when our panic has lessened and we can breathe, his father and Conan go downstairs to get some food and pick up some essentials, but I refuse to leave Noah’s side.
I know I’m quiet, and I can feel him watching me as I play with his hand.
“Baby,” he murmurs. “Look at me.” When I don’t, his thumb tips my chin up. “I won’t say I’m sorry for getting hurt to protect you, but I am sorry it scared and upset you.”
“I was terrified,” I admit, my eyes burning with tears.
They are swollen from crying so hard earlier.
“You just crumpled.” Wiping at my eyes, I clutch his hand and press it against my cheek as I look at him.
“You’re the biggest person I know, not just in stature, but your presence, and it was just gone.
You were just . . . gone, and I was scared.
I’ve never been so scared, not even when it comes to crashes or when my parents died.
Watching you bleed out in my arms, knowing there was nothing I could do .
. .” My eyes close as I lean into his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, cupping my face. I absorb the warmth of his rough hands, the scent of oil never quite going away.
He’s here.
He’s safe.
“I love you, Mackie. I couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you. I didn’t even think. I saw that bottle coming, and I just reacted. You’re the love of my life. I would die to keep you safe.”
“You think I want that? You think I’d be okay with that?” Something darkens in his eyes as he watches me. “I love you too, but you need to be here to love me, so next time, don’t.”
He remains silent, and I know I won’t get a promise from him. Instead, he tugs me up and into his arms. We stay like that, locked together, just reassuring ourselves we are okay. My tears fall slowly, and I know he feels them, but he doesn’t say anything. He holds me and lets me cry.
When I feel strong enough, I pull away and wipe my arm with my sleeve, sniffling. “Enough crying, I’m sick of it. I swear your dad and Conan thought they were going to have to carry me in here.”
“I’m glad you had them.” He smiles. “I’ll thank Conan again later.”
“You sure will.” I huff. “I need to wash my face,” I mutter as I stand, but I linger before kissing him. “I’m still mad at you.”
“You can be mad for the rest of our lives, just don’t go anywhere,” he teases.
“Sorry, you’re stuck with me,” I retort with a smile as I duck into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Turning the faucet on, I hang my head and let fear wash through me, my hands gripping the edge of the cabinet.
He’s fine. He’s fine.
How did one of the happiest nights of my life turn out like this? The moment I saw him go down, I realized two things.
One, I can’t live without Noah.
Two, I’m never letting him go.
I cup my hands, filling them with cold water before splashing it on my face and scrubbing.
When I look into the mirror, my eyes are swollen and red, my cheeks are blotchy, and my hair is wet, but there isn’t much I can do about it.
Grabbing a towel, I dry my face and shut off the sink, when I hear the door to the room open.
Hurrying to the bathroom door, I crack it to call out to Conan to let him know I’m here, but he isn’t the one who steps into the room.
It’s a doctor. Throwing the towel behind me, I prepare to go out there, but when he speaks, something roots me in place.
A strange mix of anxiety and adrenaline courses through me.
“Noah, I heard you’ve been getting into fights.” A man in a doctor’s uniform smiles at Noah, clearly familiar as he teases him. “I came as soon as I could. I looked at the new scans.”
“Henry.” Noah sighs. “Not now, okay?”
Lingering at the bathroom door, I eavesdrop as he walks closer.
“Yes, now. What were you thinking? A head injury like this is bound to worsen your condition. We will need to take more scans, but you need to be prepared, Noah. This could have shortened your life. Your brain was already under stress, and now without surgery, you will die.”
“Henry,” Noah mutters quietly, “we’ll talk later, when everyone is gone, okay?”
My eyes fly to the door where Noah’s father, mother, and Conan stand, all of us listening.
“No, now. We need to perform the surgery, Noah. You were already having bad symptoms, but with this, it’s dangerous. You could die—”
“What do you mean, he could die?” I ask as I step from the bathroom, my eyes going to Noah in shock. He looks guilty as hell and won’t look at me.
“Shit.” Henry, the doctor, winces as he looks at me then Noah. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” I press, and they both look at me. Henry glances at Noah, who nods, looking wounded and defeated.
“I, um, I’ve been treating Noah for a while now.
He has a blood clot in his brain from repeated trauma after his accidents while driving.
It’s in a dangerous place and affects his brain activity, giving him symptoms you have probably seen.
This blow to the head, though, could have made that clot much worse.
He could be bleeding into his brain,” he explains in a rush, clutching his iPad as he looks between us. “Sorry.”
My heart sinks as I look at Noah’s guilty face. “Noah, what is he talking about?” My voice is barely audible over my fear, something niggling at me like it has been for a while.
The nosebleeds.
The headaches.
The pills . . .
Oh god.
Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and I feel sick. “Noah?”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.” He swallows his words as he stares at me.
“It’s true. What he said, it’s true, and you didn’t tell me.
” I stumble back, the earth giving way under my feet as I take in their stricken expressions.
Spinning, I look at Noah’s dad and Conan, but both are frozen, looking as shocked as I am.
They didn’t know either. “You knew and didn’t tell us. ”
Sitting up, he struggles from the bed as if to get to me. “I knew, and I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He reaches for me, but I stumble back, and his hand lingers in the air. “Baby, please—”
The room spins and grows hot. My skin overheats, and I can’t think as spots dance in my vision. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t trust me.”
“That’s not the reason, please,” Noah pleads as he stands, but I shake my head and step back.
“I need a minute.” I hold up my hand as he steps toward me. “I know what you’re like. Stay here.” The terror etched on his face hurts my heart, but I refuse to comfort him right now. Instead, I turn away, ignoring his call and outstretched hand. I need to get away. I need a moment to think.
I push past his dad and Conan, ignoring their calls, and rush down the corridor. I don’t even realize I’m running for a moment, faces and noises blurring.
I need to get away.
I need air. I can’t breathe.
I don’t even remember finding my way outside, but I sink to my ass on the pavement, my chest heaving as I struggle to pull in air.
“In and out. It’s a panic attack. It will go away, just breathe.
” The familiar, calm voice guides me through it, and when I can see, I look at him.
Henry, the doctor, smiles sadly. “We haven’t officially met.
I’m Henry, Noah’s friend and doctor. He said you could ask me anything.
If you don’t have any questions, I’ll just stay with you,” he offers as he pulls a cigarette out and lights up, seemingly uncaring about the sign right near us with a clear warning not to smoke.
I stare for a moment, unsure what to say or do.
“He’s going to die?” It slips free, choked and terrified.
He blows out a puff of smoke and looks at me, his eyes sad but raw. “If he doesn’t get the surgery, yes. I don’t know when, but he will. His symptoms will get more severe until he can’t function.”
“And he knew he had this?”
His lips purse as he takes a drag. “He found out years ago. It’s why he stopped racing.
I told him if he got into another car and had another accident, he would die.
He was smart enough to listen. I think back then he tried to ignore it though.
It was only recently that he started to really listen to me, take the pills, and try to improve his life to lessen the symptoms. I’d say it was the same year you came to work for him.
I guess he finally found something to live for. He didn’t want you to worry.”
I scoff bitterly at that, and he grins.
“He’s an idiot, I know. I’ve told him a million times. I can’t speak to his reasons, you should ask him that, but medically, I can tell you everything.”
“Like he’d tell me the truth,” I snap angrily.
He’s been lying to me. I need to go, to leave, but I stay rooted in place, unable to take another step away from him. Even now, hurt and angry, I can’t leave him.
“He would. He would never deny you anything. I’ve never seen him look as broken as he did when you walked out.
” Covering my hand, he keeps his cigarette hanging from his lips as he speaks around it.
“I’ve known Noah a really long time, and I’ve never seen him like this.
He loves you, Mackie, don’t ever doubt that.
He’s just . . . human. He made a mistake, but I know from talking to him that he did it to protect you .
. . and maybe a little out of fear. He’s still a person, no matter how big you build him in your mind, and facing death?
That’s enough to have anyone running for the hills as fast as they can, but he stopped running when he met you, and maybe now he’s finally able to face it, but he needs you.
I’m not saying he isn’t a fucking idiot and that you shouldn’t be mad and hurt, but give him a chance to explain. That’s all.”
I stare at the ground, unsure what to say, and he lets me sit in silence. “The surgery . . . How risky is it?”
“Every surgery is risky,” he hedges.
“Don’t give me the pamphlet answer,” I snap. “That’s the man I love. How risky is the surgery?”
“Not as risky as not having it.” He sighs. “Without it, he’ll have maybe a year or two, or even a week. I don’t know. Yes, it’s risky, but not as risky as doing nothing.”
“And he knows this?” I rasp.
He searches my gaze and nods, so I look away, wrapping my arms around myself as I sink deeper into the concrete. He doesn’t try to make me feel better or explain, he just sits with me, and for some reason, that helps.
Noah knew. He could have told me a million times and he didn’t. He chose not to, and that hurts more than anything. He thought I couldn’t handle it. We have been planning our future together, all while he’s planning not to be around long enough to live it.
Was he just going to die and not tell me?
My fear quickly turns to anger, and I hold onto it. It’s better than pain and the fear of losing him. I let it fuel me until it’s all I feel over my breaking heart.