Take My Breath Away (The Every Breath Duet Book 2)

by Faith Andrews

  “I love you so much, Mom,” I cried into her neck, unwilling to let go of her.

  “I love you more, baby girl.” Her voice did not crack or waver as mine had. She was a rock. A pillar of strength. I wish that would rub off on me. She needed my support, and here I was crumbling at her bedside.

  Realizing I needed to pull it together, I offered the only thing I could. “I’ll be right outside waiting for you. Praying, too.” I clutched her hand and brought it to my lips. I kept it there for a long time; I was afraid to let go. What if I never saw her again? What if she didn’t make it through? What if it was too late?

  “London, please don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m in good hands.” Somehow she knew the disastrous nature of my unspoken thoughts. Of course, she did. She was my mother. I couldn’t live without her. I wouldn’t live without her.

  She squeezed my hand, commanding my composure. “I’m going to be okay. Thanks to Sam, I’m going to be okay.”

  A bright smile painted her sallow face, reaching up to her eyes and infiltrating my heart.

  I smiled in return but it was fleeting, for as grateful as I was for Sam’s bravery, I knew I had to do this with him in a few minutes, too.

  Before I could say anything else, the nurses appeared to tell us we had to say good-bye. But I wouldn’t say good-bye. Instead, I mustered whatever strength I had to tell her what she needed to hear.

  “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my Mommy you’ll be.”

  It was a quote from a book she used to read to me every night when I was a little girl. It had been some time since either of us referenced it, but thanks to Sam including it in the nursery in our home, the verse was fresh in my mind.

  “I’ll see you in a little while, baby,” she said in return and I blew her a final kiss before they turned the corner and rolled her out of view.

  I was scared enough for the both of us. I knew she was being strong, and a big part of her was relieved that this day had finally come. Waiting around helplessly, knowing she could die if a transplant didn’t turn up in time, had to be torture. I only knew the agony from my point of view, outside looking in, and it was excruciating to watch on, unable to offer anything but my love and support.

  But imagining what Mom had been through, especially in the last few months, made my chest ache that life could be so cruel at times. At the onset of her kidney disease, we never imagined our lives would turn into this. But this was our reality, and lucky for us, Sam had selflessly made it possible for our lives to continue and flourish.

  I was beyond grateful for this miracle, but I also felt like a terrible human being for wishing Sam didn’t have to go through with this. I wished it could’ve been someone else. Me. Memphis. A perfect stranger.

  The two people I loved most in this world were at risk of being ripped away from me at the slightest complication, and there was nothing I could do except sit and pray that that wouldn’t happen.

  “You okay over there, dear?” Jean broke me of my wayward emotions.

  “I am.” I sighed. “Just nervous and . . . a little tired.” I realized then that I hadn’t even considered Jean’s feelings about all of this.

  I was sure she was more than proud of her son for stepping up to donate his kidney, but she was his mother. While my love for Sam was greater than the depths of any ocean, her love for him was the ocean. Sustaining him from before he was born, shaping him into the amazing man he was today.

  “Thank you,” I blurted with a new kind of lump in my throat. Jean and I had always been close, like Sam and Mom, but now that we were together, I felt that much closer to her.

  “For what, honey?”

  “For raising the perfect man. The kind of man who does something like this without even being asked.”

  She smiled, a few subtle creases wrinkling her suntanned cheeks. “Well, that’s Sam. I can’t really take much credit for that. You know he’d go to the ends of the earth for you, London. To him, this is just a tiny display of what you—and Ella—mean to him.”

  “That’s true, but I still need you to know how grateful I am. If I’m worried, I’m sure you are too, even if you’re as composed as ever, and I’m a big ol’ mess.” I laughed to mask my true feelings—utterly terrified and choking on anxiety.

  She reached across the short table littered with magazines, presenting her palm for me to hold.

  I scooted forward and placed my hand in hers, and she squeezed. “He’s going to be fine. They both are. Have faith, honey. He has big plans for the two of you. Do you think he’d let anything get in the way of making them happen?”

  That jolted my heart in a way that had a smile forming on my lips. “He . . . talks to you about me?”

  She tilted her head and clicked her tongue. “Now, that’s a silly question. He won’t shut up about you. In fact, he never has. When the two of you first met it was London this and London that. I was sure the novelty would wear off after some time, but it never did. You have always been the center of his universe and I can’t tell you how happy I am that this is finally happening. It was my only worry for him, but now I can rest easy, so maybe it should be me thanking you.”

  “Oh, Jean.” I flew from my chair and came around the table to hug her.

  She stood to wrap her arms around me too, and the embrace lasted so long, it took Henry walking into the room to get our attention and tear us away from each other.

  “Any word?” he asked, passing around a few snack-sized bags of potato chips and trail mix from the vending machine.

  “No, nothing yet. I think it’s too soon for updates.”

  Stoic but clearly jittery, he ran his hands through his silvering hair. “Forgive me for not hanging around in here with you two. I can’t seem to stay idle too long. I’m not a big fan of hospitals, but I promised Ella I would be here when she woke up. I think I’m going to take a walk outside. Can I get either of you anything?”

  I pulled open the bag of chips I’d taken from him and shook my head. “This is perfect for now. Thank you, Henry. Mom’s a lucky lady, you know that?”

  He smiled, and it reached all the way to his eyes. “Actually, I’m the lucky one.”

  I could tell by the way he’d lowered his voice that he was getting emotional. Henry didn’t have any children of his own. His wife had died from ovarian cancer over ten years ago. From what Mom told me, he’d spent the majority of those years alone, never filling the void his wife left behind. But I knew from the little time I’d spent with the two of them together that Henry cared very deeply for my mother. And I could only imagine that being here had him reliving the painful memories of his wife’s illness.

  I liked him a lot; I hoped he knew that. I also hoped he’d stick around a lot longer, if not forever, because he was good for Mom. And God knew she deserved that, especially right now.

  I walked over to him and kissed his cheek.

  The sudden gesture must’ve surprised him because his posture straightened and his brows cinched together. “What was that for?”

  “For being you. Now, go get some fresh air or go home and take a nap. It’s probably going to be a while before either of them is out, but I can text you as soon as I hear anything.”

  He paused, appraising me with his lips in a thin line. After a second or two, the corner of his mouth turned up at one end and he offered me an almost fatherly-like wink. “Thank you, kiddo.”

  After that, it was just Jean and me again. We talked a little more about Sam and the new house, doing our best to skate around the topic at the forefront of our minds. Soon afterward, my lids became heavy and I felt myself drifting off.

  I dreamt about the beach. Sam. A wedding? When the buzzing of my phone woke me up, all I remembered was whatever we were doing on that beach, we were happy.

  I groaned myself awake, not wanting to abandon the euphoria the dream had lulled me into. But when I saw the name of the incoming caller flash across the screen, an entirely different
slew of emotions took over.

  Memphis.

  “Impeccable timing.” I mumbled to myself before answering it. “Hello?”

  “London! Thank God I got you. Where are you?”

  Is he serious? Like no time had passed. Like all of us hadn’t been trying to reach him for months on end. I wanted to hang up, but more than that, I wanted him to know what a fuck-up he was.

  “I’m at the hospital, Memphis. Waiting for our mother—and Sam—to come out of surgery. He’s giving her one of his kidneys as we speak. I kind of have my hands full right now—not to mention my heart—so what’s up, huh? What do you want? Why are you calling me now?”

  I could hear movement, the phone shifting from one hand to another, his hands fumbling to hold it. “Shit! I didn’t realize that was today.” His voice was muffled as he cursed.

  I sprang from my chair and walked to the other side of the room so as not to disturb Jean, who was still asleep.

  I was so angry I could have killed him had he been in front of me. “Are you telling me you knew this was happening and you still didn’t reach out? You are such a piece of shit, Memphis! We needed you and you ignored us. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “London, please stop. You need to listen to me.”

  I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it as if he’d just spoken a foreign language. The only thing stopping me from ending the call and blocking the damn number was utter curiosity. Why now? Why was he calling after all this time if not to express concern for our mother?

  When I brought the phone back to my ear, Memphis was frantic on the other end. “Hello? London? Are you there? I think I lost her, man. What should we do? Maybe you should try calling her.”

  There was someone else in the background. The voice was very familiar but too distant and muffled to make out for sure. This entire call was getting more confusing by the second.

  “I’m here,” I finally said. “Who’re you talking to, Memphis? What’s going on?”

  He expelled a long sigh of relief. “I know this is a bad time. I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, that I’m not there. I’ll make it up to you, and to Mom, I promise. But-but we need you, London. We’re in a lot of trouble.”

  Never mind the desperation in his plea. God knew what kind of trouble he was in to resort to calling me of all people. He said we. Who was he in trouble with? And why did he think they deserved help from me?

  “Who’s we, Memphis? Who are you with?”

  The line fell silent for so long I wondered if he lost his nerve and hung up. But when he spoke again, the name that fell from his lips caused me to gasp so loudly I woke Jean and almost dropped the phone.

  “I’m with Hunter. We’re on our way back to New Bedford. I’ll explain everything when we get there.”

  Oh, my God. This can’t be real. The room was a fuzzy haze spinning around me, my legs shaky and useless. I held on to the nearest chair to prevent myself from falling, as if that would stop any of this from being true.

  “Memphis, why are you—” I heard the line go dead before I could finish my question.

  This wasn’t good. This was all kinds of bad.

  If Hunter was with Memphis, that could only mean . . .

  “Are you okay, dear?” Jean was at my side, her hand making small circles on my back to try and soothe me.

  But nothing could bring me any form of comfort, knowing the possibilities that lie ahead. And no, I wasn’t okay. I was the absolute furthest thing from okay.

  London

  ROUGHLY THREE AND a half hours later, Doctor Bronson met us in the waiting room, wearing her operating scrubs and a tight smile.

  I’d been clutching my phone in a vice grip since I got the call from Memphis. He hadn’t called back. And there’d been no word from Hunter, either.

  If my brain wasn’t already on overload because of Mom and Sam’s surgeries, it was now on the verge of imploding.

  At the first sight of the doctor, I shot up from my seat, Jean and Henry following suit. “How did it go? Are they okay? When can we see them?”

  Doctor Bronson raised her palms and nodded her head. “Everything went well. I expect Sam to be up for visitors in about an hour, but your Mom—” She paused and my heart sank to my toes.

  “What’s wrong with Ella?” Henry’s usually gentle voice was panic-stricken, which caused me to feel my limbs giving out again. Sensing I might topple over, Henry, Jean and Doctor Bronson reached out to steady me.

  “Get her some water,” someone said.

  “Have her sit down,” someone else said.

  In a haze of strong hands and shuffling feet, I found myself seated in a remote corner of the waiting room, a nurse feeding me water from a straw.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay,” I insisted, taking a sip and then pushing the cup aside. “Please tell me what’s going on with my mother.”

  All eyes were back on Doctor Bronson as we awaited an explanation. With her hands folded in front of her, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I have confidence that Ella will be perfectly fine, but she’s experiencing a delayed awakening from the anesthesia and is currently in a comatose state.”

  “A coma?” I squealed. “This isn’t happening! I need to see her! If she hears my voice, she’s sure to—”

  Jean placed a hand on my shoulder and interrupted my frantic outburst. “London, relax, sweetheart. Please don’t get yourself worked up.”

  “How can I not? She just . . . she said my mother’s in a coma!” My heart was thrumming so loudly in my ears I could barely make sense of anything anyone was saying, but that word came through loud and clear.

  “Jean’s right,” Henry added. “I’ve heard of this happening before.”

  He addressed Doctor Bronson next, his hand still on my shoulder across from where Jean’s was perched on the opposite side. “You’re confident this is just a hiccup and that she’s going to be okay?”

  “Yes. It’s very common for a patient with decreased kidney function, like Ella, to not promptly clear paralyzing drugs such as anesthesia from the body. We have her intubated and we are monitoring her closely.”

  Delayed awakening.

  Coma.

  Intubated.

  I heard their voices humming around me as if I wasn’t really inside my body. I was floating just outside, a witness to someone else’s nightmare.

  This couldn’t be happening. My fears were coming true. I couldn’t even focus on the news that Sam was okay because the thought of losing my mother was a blinding blow to my reality.

  I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears dripping from my chin.

  Doctor Bronson and Henry were huddled off in a corner and I was left in Jean’s care, unable to move or speak.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Jean cried beside me. “I have faith, sweetheart.”

  Everyone and their godforsaken faith and optimism. I was starting to believe those were just two words people threw around as Hail Mary shots. Like telling the bride it was good luck when it rained on her wedding day, when in all reality, what bride wanted to slosh through puddles or have frizzy hair on her goddamn wedding day? It rained the night I married Hunter and now we were divorced, proving my point that faith and optimism were nothing but smoke and mirrors.

  Still puffy-eyed from crying over Mom for the last sixty minutes or so, I tip-toed down the corridor to make my way to Sam’s recovery room with Jean at my side.

  There were too many emotions bogging me down to run to him the way I envisioned I would earlier, but I held tight to Jean’s hand and tried my best to allow that faith of hers to penetrate through osmosis.

  At the sight of him with his eyes closed, wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to IVs, more tears threatened to burst free. I threw my hand over my mouth to contain the impending sobs and nearly lost my nerve altogether. I was ready to hightail it out of there. Maybe I should’ve let Jean see him first. Cowardly as it was, I thought about waiting to be with him until I was m
ore composed. What good would I do him this way? I wasn’t exactly the face of a Get Well Soon greeting card.

  But Sam must’ve heard us enter the room or sensed our nearness, because before I could make another move, his eyes were open and he was calling for me.

  “There you are. I was just dreamin’ ’bout you,” he whispered, his voice scratchy, his speech slightly impaired due to his grogginess.

  Jean nudged me from behind, allowing me the chance to go to his side first. I looked at her over my shoulder, cautious, but her reassuring smile and a wink fed me the strength I lacked.

  “You were?” I approached in slow motion with measured strides, my hands clutched in prayer at my waist. I wasn’t sure what came over me. Why was I acting as if I was walking in a minefield? As if Sam was made of glass and he would break if I merely looked at him?

  “Yesss . . .” he trailed off, opening and closing his mouth as if he were parched. “I wasss . . . afraid I dreamt up the last three months, too.” He smiled weakly, but it cinched his eyes with creases and warmed my pounding heart.

  “Come ’ere, babe. Isss okay.” Slurring and semi-coherent, he could still sense my trepidation. Of course, he could because that was Sam. Even under the after-effects of anesthesia and a four-hour surgery, he was perceptive as ever. He always was when it came to me.

  Finally at his side, I reached forward to place a hand on his cheek. “How do you . . . Does it hurt?”

  “I don’ feel a damn thing righ’ now.” He tried to laugh, but as his chest rose and fell he winced.

  “Oh, no. Are you okay?” I looked to him and then to Jean, gesturing for her to hurry closer.

  “He’s fine. Aren’t you, my boy?” She joined us on the opposite side of the bed, reaching for her son’s hand with a smile.

  “I’m good, I promise. Now, convince thisss one.” He thumbed in my direction. “She’s a worrier. We have to toughen her up.”

  The three of us shared a subdued chuckle but it did little to melt away my anxieties.