Chapter Thirty-Eight Callum #4
I huff out a watery laugh, pressing my forehead against my mom's shoulder. Atticus and Jane walk over, and I reach out my hand for Atticus, who takes it with a firm brotherly hold, Jane still under his arm, but smiling brighter than I've ever seen at me.
Happy tears gather in my eyes as our little family celebrates Sophie being okay.
My gaze drifts over my shoulder to where Paul stands a few paces away. His eyes look sad, but there's a small, genuine smile curving his lips. I give him a slight nod of thanks, and he returns it before turning toward the door and walking out of the hospital.
I gently ease myself from the group's embrace and jog after him.
When I get outside, the sky is still dark, but the storm seems to have settled. No more lightning splitting the sky above us, and no more thunder rattling the world. Just solid, heavy rain.
There's a peacefulness to it, like a necessary cleansing.
"Paul," I call out, striding over to him, still covered under the awning shielding us from the rain. He stops immediately, his hand pausing from where it was pulling his hood over his head. I can see his body stiffen before he turns to me, his face looking pale and drained.
"Callum."
"Why'd you do that?" I ask once I'm in front of him.
It takes a minute for him to answer as his face twists, something like pain crossing his features before it softens.
His lips curve into a small, sad grin as he answers, "I'm... loving Sophie the way she needs to be loved."
The answer is raw and truthful.
Loving her the way she needs to be loved, by doing what's best for her, even when it hurts.
Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?
That's... well, that's just how love is supposed to be. That's always how I've understood it, from my mom and dad. Showing up when it's hard, staying when it's harder, and putting aside your own feelings to do what's best for them.
Like my dad used to tell me, love is about honesty, putting aside ego, putting aside feelings like jealousy and fear.
As my mom says, it's all about patience and balance.
And I guess Paul finally understands that.
"When she's better," he starts, tentatively.
"Could you ask her if... she would speak to me.
Just once. If she doesn't want to, that's fine, but I would—" his eyes close, and a tear slips down his cheek.
He inhales sharply and exhales slowly. "I would just like to give her the apology she deserves. "
I study him for a moment, this person breaking apart in front of me.
I don't necessarily feel bad for him. No friendship or forgiveness is blooming in my chest. I don't really feel anything but pity for this man who seems to be drowning in his own regret.
I can clearly see how much effort it took him to ask me this question, and it's not my place to answer him for her.
However, I will always protect Sophie's heart first, so I need to know—
"Are you still seeing that woman?"
He blinks, frowning in confusion for a second before his eyes widen. "Elise?"
Even hearing her name makes my lip curl, disgust rolling in my stomach. "Yeah. Her."
"No," Paul shakes his head. "No, I haven't... no, I'm not seeing her anymore."
"You sure? Because she came to my store and was—" I trail off, the rage rising inside of me when I think of that day.
The words she spoke to Sophie, and how she looked at her, as if she were lower than dirt.
"She was so goddam cruel to Sophie, like she did something wrong by existing.
She tried to get me to fall into bed with her like it was that easy. "
Paul's entire body jolts like I just punched him—though if I actually wanted to hit him, he wouldn't be vertical anymore—and his whole face goes white. For a moment, I wonder if he's going to throw up. I take a half-step back just in case.
"I—I didn't know," he stammers, horrified. "God. I'm so sorry. I didn't think she would—fuck—I didn't think..."
I bite out before I can stop myself. "You never really think ahead, do you?"
Paul blinks, his face going blank for a second before he laughs, the sound sharp and empty. "Yeah, I really don't. I'm working on it. In therapy."
"Good," I say simply. "Keep at it. I'll ask Sophie when she's better. I won't stress her out further when she's focused on healing."
With that, I'm done with Paul.
I turn toward the entrance, ready to go back inside, but Paul calls out behind me.
"Callum," he calls out, halting me. Looking back at him, I see him shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I know I wasn't the... greatest friend to you—"
"We weren't friends at all," I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest to face him fully. "You made that pretty clear when you humiliated me in front of all your real friends."
He cringes at that, "Yeah. I was... insecure and weak and a complete shithead. Still am, if we're being honest. But... I'm sorry for how I treated you. You didn't deserve that. You were a good friend to me."
"It's in the past," I say with a shrug. And it is. I don't have the time or energy to dig through old wounds that have already scarred over. Not when my focus needs to be on Sophie.
"I know," he nods. "But I still needed to say it. I really am sorry."
I shrug once more because he seems to need this more than I do. "Apology accepted," I tell him.
He studies me for a long second, his eyes narrow, and his face and tone curious as he asks, "Were you... tempted at all? By Elise?"
My answer is immediate.
"Not for a second." My voice is firm. "Not when I have Sophie."
Paul flinches, and he looks away from me like my gaze and words burned him. His face looks like he tasted something bitter, but it doesn't seem to be aimed at me.
After a long moment, he takes a deep breath and turns to the parking lot, throwing over his shoulder. "Take care of her, Callum."
"I will," I promise, not to him, but to her, to me, to the world.
Dr. Rashid is speaking with my mom when I walk back into the waiting room. She breaks into a bright smile the moment she sees me, and Dr. Rashid turns, meeting me with warm eyes.
"She's awake, and she's asking for you."
◆◆◆
"Given Sophie's white blood cell count," Dr. Rashid says as we walk side-by-side down the hallway, "we've placed her in neutropenic isolation. It's a protective measure for her immune system."
I nod, but impatience coils through every muscle in my body.
My feet keep wanting to speed ahead, to tear down the hall, to rip open whatever door separates me from Sophie.
I force myself to listen, because I know these instructions are the difference between helping her and putting her at risk.
My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, I'm sure he can hear it.
I need to lay eyes on Sophie to confirm she's awake and breathing.
Alive.
Dr. Rashid gestures toward a sealed double-door chamber ahead—glass walls, a bright red sign reading PROTECTIVE ISOLATION – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
"You'll need to put on a gown, gloves, and a mask before entering," he explains. "This is to protect her, not you. Inside, try not to touch surfaces unnecessarily. Stay by her bedside. Keep your mask on at all times. And if you feel even slightly unwell, you must step out immediately. Understood?"
"Yeah. Yes. Absolutely." Then, because it's been ripping me apart not knowing, I ask, "Am I... am I allowed to touch her? At all?"
Dr. Rashid's entire face softens. "No kissing.
No leaning your face close to hers. And you cannot climb onto the bed with her.
But touching her hands or arms is absolutely encouraged.
" His voice gentles. "Emotional well-being is crucial for patients in neutropenic isolation.
It can be... a very frightening time for them.
Sometimes the presence of someone they love raises their stability more than any medication I give them.
" He offers me a small smile. "Just be smart about it, Callum. "
I nod because if this man told me to strip naked, army-crawl across the entire hospital in full view of everyone to be able to see her, I would do it without blinking.
He leads us down into a room to grab the appropriate PPE for me to wear.
I scrub my hands with soap, pull on a gown, gloves, and a mask over my face, before Dr. Rashid checks me over once and gestures me toward a door.
I step into the room, and I see her.
She looks so impossibly small in that hospital bed, swallowed by layers of blankets and a tangle of wires and tubing.
Dressed in a hospital gown, my sweet girl looks so pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and a sheen of sweat dampening her face.
Someone placed a pink cap on her head, and I'm so thankful since I know it'll keep her warm. She always gets so cold.
Her heart monitor beeps softly and steadily, and it's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard.
Alive. Breathing. Still here.
Her eyes are closed as she seems to be dozing off, with a small furrow to her brow if she's in pain.
She looks so miserable, so sick...
And still—God—she steals the breath right out of my lungs.
She's so beautiful, it makes me want to cry.
When she hears mine and Dr. Rashid's footsteps, her eyes flutter open, and she turns her head to me.
Her whole face lights up.
My heart stutters at the sight.
My sweet girl.
My Sophie.
A tired smile curves at her lips. "Hi, otter..."
Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she reaches out her hand to me, shaky and weak.
I completely break into pieces and rush to her bedside, gently reaching out my hand to take hers.
When her fingers immediately curl around mine, it takes everything in me not to drop to my knees.
The sound that I make is half-laugh, half-sob as I gaze at the love of my life, my beautiful girl, alive and well.
"Hi, baby..." I choke out, gently squeezing her fingers. "I'm here."
Her smile widens.
And I feel like I can finally breathe.