To Have It All(82)

Liam walked us to the elevator, holding Pim tightly to his chest. His mouth was pressed in a hard line and though he tried not to show how painful it was, I could see it strewn across his face. Squeezing his eyes closed, he inhaled deeply through his nose as if he was trying to breathe her in. “I love you, little sweetheart,” he rasped quietly. “Thank you,” he went on, “a million times, thank you.”

My eyes burned with tears as I watched him kiss her forehead then hand her to me. Pim’s eyes seemed to droop. She may not have understood what was going on, but she knew something was wrong.

“Liam,” she cooed as she reached a hand out for him. He took it as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he did, before he kissed it, then looked at me, his gaze glossed and riddled with apology before he spun on his heel and hustled back to the apartment. He couldn’t take it anymore, and I didn’t fault him one bit when he didn’t turn back as Pim cried because I knew he couldn’t. It was breaking his heart.

When I met Matt out front, I was barely holding it together. He glanced at my face and grimaced. Pim was still crying and he took her and began trying to shush her.

“You okay?” he asked.

I couldn’t speak. Was I okay? I hardly knew. Everything felt like it was about to fall apart, and it had only just started to come together. It was too much to explain and even if it weren’t, I couldn’t. So, I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“You’re okay with me keeping her tonight?”

“Of course, Matt,” I choked out, fighting with every fiber of my being not to cry in front of him.

“Waverly?” he questioned, his forehead creased with worry.

I held a hand up, stopping him and buying myself a few seconds to manage the task of forming words without it coming out in sobs. “I’m fine,” I told him, nodding a little too enthusiastically.

“I know last night was . . . ugly,” he dropped his head. “I was just worried. You and Pim are the only family I’ve got. I’m protective of that.”

“Matt,” I sniffled. “I’m sorry, too. I promise I will explain all of this to you, but I . . . I just can’t right now.”

He bobbed his head a few times in understanding.

“I’ll call and check on her later.” Kissing Pim quickly, I rushed back inside and stopped just before the elevator. I couldn’t hit the call button, not until I got myself together. I was blinded by hurt and an immense fear of the unknown. It hurt to think of the situation—the man I loved trapped in Max’s body. It hurt to think of Liam dying; leaving me when we’d only just found one another. But what hurt the worst was watching him walk to his likely death, with so much hurt himself, while he tried to remain strong for us. It was awful to witness.

“Ma’am?” Glancing up, I found Braxton with a compassionate smile as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me. “It’s clean.”

Taking it, I wiped at my face and nose. “I’m going to have to buy you a box of these.”

“I have a million,” he chuckled. “Get a box for my birthday and Christmas every year.” Watching me for a moment, frowning, he asked, “Forgive me if I’m intruding, ma’am, but is everything okay?”

I nodded a few times. “Just . . . have a hard day ahead,” I answered as I hit the call button. Braxton was a kind man for checking on me, but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I didn’t like people seeing me vulnerable, especially strangers.

“Anything I can help with?” he inquired. The elevator doors slid open, and he held his hand out to hold them open for me.

“I don’t think so, Braxton,” I murmured as I stepped in.

“Well, let me know if there is.” With a tip of his hat, he backed away, and the doors began to close. Jolting my arm out, I stopped them as he turned to walk away.

“Braxton,” I called. He spun back around to face me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“If you’re a praying man,” I said quietly, “pray for a miracle.”

He narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head. “Yes, ma’am.”





The three of us walked to the hospital. It was hot as hell out, but I wanted to be outside one more time, feel the sun on my face one more time. We were quiet. No one spoke a word. After all, what do you say to a dead man walking?

Once we reached the hospital and were standing outside the room, we were approached by a nurse with long copper-colored hair tied back in a high ponytail.

“Good morning,” she smiled sadly.

“Max,” Helen cut a look to me, “this is Kym. She’s been Liam’s daytime respiratory therapist since he arrived here.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Kym.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” she said as we shook hands. Looking to Helen, she said, “We did three EEG’s again, and there was no sign of brain activity.”

Helen dropped her head.

“So there’s no hope?” I asked, struggling to accept what the lovely copper haired woman was telling us.

“I’ll have Dr. Malcom come in and speak with you shortly.” I took that as no, there was no hope. She just didn’t want to be the one to tell us that exactly. I couldn’t blame her. Doctors get paid more, they should be the bearers of the worst news.