To Have It All(84)

Here we were, possibly minutes away from his death, and he was comforting me. “Are you still scared?” I wept as I dug my face into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

He didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “If I say yes, would you think me weak?” he murmured.

I clutched his arm. “No. Not at all. I’d be a mess if I were you right now.” Then I snorted. “I’m not you, and I’m still a mess right now.”

“It’s going to be okay, Waverly,” he tried to comfort me.

Pushing away from him, I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t go,” I begged him. “Please, Liam. Please don’t go.” It was a horrible thing for me to ask him, as if he had any control over it. Or did he? My ability to reason was caught in a vicious tug-of-war somewhere between my heart and my mind, and the longer they battled, the more anxious and desperate I felt. “We don’t have to take your body off life support,” I pointed out, my voice pleading. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he looked away, fighting to keep his emotions under control. I knew I was being irrational, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough to bear it.

Taking my head in his hands, he pressed our foreheads together. His voice was gravelly, his emotion evident as he calmly told me, “It has to be done, Waverly.”

“It doesn’t,” I argued. “You don’t have to do this.” I pounded the side of my fist against his chest, selfishly wanting him to hurt the way I did. “Not yet anyway. We could have a few more days,” I pleaded.

“Waverly,” he begged.

He was saying no. There was no more waiting. There would be no more days. This was it. Anger surged through me as I shoved him away and stumbled to my feet, my face heated and wet with tears.

“Damn you!” I cried. “How am I supposed to go on now? How do I live after losing you?”

He moved quickly and before I knew it he had a firm hold on my arms. “I’m sorry,” he growled at me. “If you think the idea of me dying and leaving you behind isn’t fucking killing me, you’re wrong. I don’t want one day or a few days, I want hundreds and thousands of days. I want to see you smile at me, my face,” he emphasized through gritted teeth. “Not Max’s. When I take you to bed, when I’m deep inside of you, loving you, I want it to be me you see when you gaze up at me as you moan and tell me you love me. Me, Waverly . . . all of me. My heart, my soul, my body.” He stopped for a brief moment, and squeezed my arms a little tighter as if he were trying to convey everything he was feeling through his hold on me. “It’s time, Waverly,” he rasped. “Maybe I’ll end up in his body forever, and if I do, we will make it work, but you have to be able to accept it if I don’t. You have to go on. You wanna know how?” he asked as he jerked me gently. “You just do.”

Releasing my arms, he took my face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe my wet cheeks. “You’ll do it for me.”

Melting into his arms, I cried as he gently stroked my hair. He whispered to me his love and adoration. He spoke beautiful words as he cradled me. He promised everything would be okay. By the time Helen returned with the doctor and Kym, I had calmed down, even though I was still crying.

“They’re ready to begin,” Helen informed us, her eyes tearing up. Turning to her, he hugged her tightly.

“I love you, Hel Cat,” he whispered where the others couldn’t hear. “If the baby is a girl, name it Liamina,” he tried to joke, desperate to make her laugh once more. She didn’t, but she managed to force a smile as she pulled away from him.

“I love you, too,” she mouthed.

The goodbyes had been spoken, the forms signed. This was it.

Liam held us both, one in each arm at his sides as we watched Kym begin the extubating process. Kym laid a towel over his chest, preparing for her work. Before she started, she silenced the machines that monitored his heart rate and blood pressure. The doctor had explained once they cut off the machine that provided him oxygen, it would cause his blood pressure and heart rate to fluctuate and the machines would get loud if they didn’t silence them.

“Now I will cut his oxygen,” Kym informed us. Liam squeezed my hand as our gazes met.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Before I could respond, Kym pushed the button to stop the oxygen supply to the ventilator.

Then I heard something thud loudly.

Jerking my head toward the sound, I stared blankly, shock rendering me mute and still.

Max’s body was on the floor.

“Liam,” Helen shrieked, jerking me out of my disbelief. We both fell to our knees beside him, assessing him. Straightening his head, I smacked his face a few times, attempting to wake him but he was out cold.

Dr. Malcom rushed to us with a tiny flashlight prying his eyelids open before checking his pulse, he said, “His heart rate is through the roof.”

Just then, Max’s eyes opened and narrowed with drowsiness as he looked around. “Where am . . .” He stopped when his gaze fell on me. “Waverly?” he mumbled in disbelief. “Where am I?”

My heart froze in my chest as a familiarity came up and wrapped it arms around me.

I recognized the man staring back at me.

And it wasn’t Liam.