Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(92)

We were allowed in Jonah’s room then. He lay reclined in bed, an IV of clear fluid hung over him and fed into the back of his right hand, the needle taped just above his medic alert bracelet. He threw us a glance of greeting. He’d been sullen and silent all morning. Unreachable. As Theo and I took a seat on either side of the bed, he looked at neither of us but absently cycled through channels on the muted wall TV.

“Mom and Dad are on the way,” Theo said.

“They don’t need to come.”

“You’re in the hospital,” his brother replied, barely keeping the sharp edge out of his voice. “You think Mom will stay away?”

Jonah shrugged and said nothing.

“Oscar texted me,” Theo continued. “He’s at work and wants to come. He and Dena both. I told them it’s not an emergency.”

“Good.”

I put my hand over Jonah’s, mindful of the IV. He didn’t react, didn’t move to take my hand or look at me. I sucked down the pain roaring within me, I’m not strong enough for this. I’m not I’m not I’m not…

Theo’s eyes found mine, searchingly. Like Lola, ready and waiting for me to flake out right before a big show, only the stakes were a billion times higher.

You knew this was coming, I told myself. You knew it wasn’t going to be long walks on the beach in San Diego and making love all night, every night. This is it. This is real, and now you’re going to stay and f*cking take it.

Except that I didn’t think we’d actually be here. I’d always held on to a little flame of hope and now it was guttering out.

A nurse or technician wheeled in a cart, and Theo got up to make room. As Dr. Morrison and the tech bustled around the machines, the heart tracking Jonah’s pulse beeped faster, betraying the stoic expression on his face.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He nodded, his eyes straight ahead.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

“I’ll crush it.” He turned his head on the pillow and looked at me for the first time all morning. Within the cold, flat lines of his face, his eyes were rimmed with terror. Because this was happening. We were at this dreaded place, and it was worse, so much worse, than I could have ever possibly imagined.

I can’t I can’t I can’t…

I let go of his hand. “Maybe Theo, then…”

Jonah’s chin rose a hair, then fell.

I surrendered my seat to Theo. He took Jonah’s hand in his and I watched them exchange a look. A commiseration. Theo knew what to do, and Jonah trusted him to do it.

The tech gave Jonah a shot of anesthetic in the neck, just above his collarbone, while Dr. Morrison readied a hideous-looking instrument.

“All right, Jonah,” Dr. Morrison said, “you’re going to feel a slight pinch and then pressure.”

“Liar,” Jonah said, his entire body tensed and knuckles white in the hand holding Theo’s.

“Guilty as charged,” Morrison said, his eyes flicking between his hands and the monitor showing the tiny camera now threading down Jonah’s jugular. And I could see everything. I could see inside Jonah’s body, taking a narrow, dark road down to the heart that was failing him.

“Almost there,” Dr. Morrison said. “You’re doing great. Try to stay relaxed.”

“Exhale,” Theo murmured. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Jonah let the held air out through his nose, keeping his teeth gritted. The heart monitor continued beeping at ninety-eight pulses per minute.

“There we are,” the doctor said, and Jonah closed his eyes.

Through the catheter, Morrison inserted a bioptome—a device with tiny jaws at the tip. It pinched off a piece of Jonah’s heart tissue, then retreated back down the vein.

Jonah made a sound deep in his chest, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from doing the same.

“Annnnd we’re done.” Dr. Morrison turned aside to the tray table. His tech bottled and labeled the tiny piece of heart tissue to take to the lab while a nurse busied herself with the incision site. Morrison snapped off his blue latex gloves and threw them in a waste receptacle.

“You did fantastic,” he said, patting Jonah’s leg. “Ah, and here are your parents.” He smiled warmly at Henry and Beverly in the doorway. “We’ve just finished. We should have the results some time tomorrow morning.”

“Wonderful,” Beverly said through a tight, nervous smile. She nodded at me in greeting, then went to Jonah’s side. “How are you doing, sweetheart? You look wonderful.”

“I’m tired,” Jonah said, staring at nothing. “I’d like to get some rest now.”

“Oh.” Beverly swallowed. “But we just got here…”

Henry said, “He needs to rest.” He took hold of his wife by the shoulders. “Come on, Beverly. Everyone. Let’s leave him to sleep. We can visit in a few hours—”

“No,” Jonah said. “In the morning. Come back in the morning.”

“The morning?” Beverly’s hand crept to the neckline of her cardigan.

“Pending the results of several tests, we’re going to keep Jonah overnight,” Dr. Morrison said. “Purely as a precaution.”

No one moved. Glances darted here and there until the doctor cleared his throat and made a firm gesture toward the door. We all shuffled out, and I waited for Jonah to look at me or call me back. He didn’t.