Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(37)

Big city ERs are usually loud, busy places, but here in the valley, things were different. There were only a few people in the waiting area—the place was practically deserted. I spotted the reception desk, then stopped because Rome was standing there, waiting for us.

He looked solid in his blue EMS uniform. Strong and competent in his professionalism. I tried to read his expression for some sign of hope—any hope at all.

All I saw was sadness.

“Tinker will be here soon,” he said quietly, coming to stand in front of us. “I called her once we got your mom inside.”

I opened my mouth to ask how she was doing, but my throat was too dry. I couldn’t seem to make the words come out. Lexi asked instead.

“How is she?”

Rome sighed, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. “They’re working on her. Doc will come out and talk to you as soon as she can. Until then, there’s a family room you can go to.”

My stomach clenched—they didn’t send people to the family room to hear good news.

“Can we see her?” asked Kayden, his voice small and trembling.

“Not right now,” Rome said quietly.

“Soon?”

“Do you like candy?” Rome asked. “They’ve got a fantastic vending machine down the hallway. It’s full of chips and stuff, and I think there’s pop, too. I’ve been working all night, so I’m pretty hungry. I could use some company, and you can help me pick out food for your sisters. They might take a while, so we can hang out and eat while they check on your mom.”

Kayden looked up at me for permission. Somehow, I managed to give him a smile.

“That sounds like a good idea,” I told him. “Why don’t you see if you can find me some peanut M&Ms? Or maybe some barbecue chips.”

“Okay,” he said, his face still uncertain. I wanted to tell him everything would be fine. That he didn’t need to worry. But that was probably a lie.

“Let’s get your sisters settled, and then we’ll go find the snacks,” Rome said. Then he led us toward a set of double doors, waving a little keycard in front of a sensor to open them.

We entered a hallway that was all white tile, with a nurses’ station just inside the entry and a line of glass-walled rooms down the left side. Most of them had blue curtains drawn, and I could hear machines beeping in the distance. Ignoring all that, Rome turned to the right, opening a plain wooden door. The room beyond wasn’t big. A beige couch sat against one wall, and there were a couple matching chairs arranged across from it. The lighting was more subdued in here, and I saw a basket full of magazines on the floor.

As Lexi walked in, I turned to Kayden, putting my hands on his shoulders.

“You stick with Rome, all right? We’ll be right inside here, waiting.”

He nodded, his young face serious, and I gave him a quick hug.

“Okay, little man,” said Rome. “Let’s go find something to eat.”




Time crawled.

Lexi paced, checking her phone every thirty seconds and wiping away tears. I wanted to ask what’d happened back at the apartment—how Mom had gone from the woman I’d left laughing and playing cards to the bluish lump on the stretcher. Now wasn’t the moment. Lexi looked like she might shatter into a thousand pieces and she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Every second that passed without the doctor coming felt like a cruel tease.

Was she dead?

She’d sure looked dead to me. But if she was dead, why hadn’t they come to tell us? As more time passed, a weird, irrational hope took root in my heart. I mean, why would they have worked so hard to save her unless there was a chance?

Then I thought about the color of her face. People didn’t turn that color unless all their oxygen was gone, and I didn’t know how long it’d taken my sister to find her. First Lexi had to call 911, and that’d probably taken five or ten minutes. It’d taken another five or ten for me to reach the apartment after she called me, and all the while, Mom had been blue.

Brains couldn’t go that long without oxygen.

We both jumped when someone finally knocked on the door, bracing ourselves as it opened. A short, wiry, middle-aged woman wearing a white coat over blue scrubs stepped in. Her badge said she was Dr. Elizabeth Templeton.

Lexi and I stilled.

“How is she?” I asked, desperate for an answer and afraid to hear it at the same time.

“Your mother suffered a very serious asthma attack,” she said, the words measured. “We tried very hard to save her, but despite our best efforts, the damage was too severe and she died. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to hit. But everything just felt numb. Numb and empty and unreal.

“But I felt her pulse when I found her,” Lexi whispered, rubbing her hands together nervously. “She was laying on the floor and I checked for her pulse, just like we learned in school. Her heart was beating. I blew into her mouth until the ambulance got there and then they started giving her air.” Her voice started to rise. “If her heart was still going and she had air, how can she be dead?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” the doctor replied firmly. “The damage was likely already done before you found her. By the time her heart arrested in the ambulance, it was just too late. We tried everything we could to get it started again, but her heart was weak.”