Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(94)

“I understand.”

“His heart isn’t well now, but he’s much healthier in other ways. Ways I’d always hoped for when he was with Audrey, but never observed.”

I felt a tightening in my chest, an anticipation of something I needed to hear, something that would save me from my faltering courage.

“Jonah is always insisting we don’t talk about bucket lists,” Beverly said. “‘Don’t bucket-list me, Mom.’ But mothers… We all have our own list for our children—hopes we have for them. Dreams and aspirations. My list is full, and all the things Jonah might never do or experience weigh heavily on me. So heavy. A wedding, children of his own…”

She looked at me, her lips trembling, her eyes shining. “Falling in love and being loved in return. That’s the heaviest one. But you’re here now. And the way he talks about you…” Her eyes filled and spilled over. “His eyes light up and his voice changes when he says your name. His smile when you walk into a room is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

A tingling warmth began to spread through me, warming me against the icy chill of fear and grief. Beverly reached out and brushed a tear from my cheek and cupped my chin.

“And even more beautiful than that, Kacey? Your eyes light up when my son is near. Your voice changes when you say his name. And the smile you wear when you’re looking at him and think no one is watching…Those are gifts I’ll never be able to thank you for. To know my Jonah is loved. He’ll leave this world loved, won’t he?”

I nodded, tears streaming from my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered. “He’s loved and he’ll be loved forever.”

Beverly’s smile shone through her tears like a ray of sun through rain. “Wonderful.” She patted my cheek and let her hand fall. “Cross that off my list, then.”





Six weeks.

Dr. Morrison laid it out for me. The biopsy results were as I expected: the hardening of the arteries was accelerating, and blood tests showed that the amount of antibodies my immune system had developed against the donor heart was skyrocketing. Heart failure was imminent. I was back on the donor list with emergency status, but to add insult to injury, the immunosuppressant medications had taken a toll on my kidneys, compromising my chances for a second transplant. In the eyes of the Board, I wasn’t a favorable candidate.

Six weeks. Not months anymore.

Strings of days.

Hardly more than a thousand hours.

But within those hours, thousands upon thousands of moments…

I stared at the dust motes that danced in a shaft of morning sun lancing from the window. Real, warm light against the harsh fluorescents above me.

Dr. Morrison reached across the bed to lay his hand over my wrist. “Jonah?”

I inhaled deeply, and let it out in a gusty sigh of relief, as if something heavy had been pressing down on my chest and now it was gone.

The doctor’s hand on my arm tightened. “Jonah?”

“I’m fine,” I said, turning toward him. “I’m good, actually. Knowing the brutal truth… It’s better. I feel better.”

Oddly, I could breathe again. The twisted coil of anxiety and fear and dread were fading away. My emotions had been in free-fall for a week, when the first bout of unwarranted fatigue hit me just before the gallery opening. Kacey said I ran hot and cold, but that barely captured the range of emotions. Hot and cold, angry and guilty, scared shitless and scrambling to make peace. I’d been cycling through the five stages of grief, one after the other—each stage lasting less than a minute—then back to the beginning to start again. I’d had to push everyone away last night—even push Kacey away so I could cope with the inevitability.

I looked at Dr. Morrison now, a sense of peace settling over me, and profound relief from the chaotic emotions of the last few days.

“Would you like to talk to someone?” Dr. Morrison asked. “A counselor, perhaps? Or the chaplain?”

“I want to lodge a complaint with the Medical Board,” I said. “Worst. Biopsy. Ever.”

He chuckled. “You’ve always been one of my favorite patients, Jonah. Always.” His laughter quieted. “I’ve already taken the liberty of explaining the situation.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Not the best part of your job, I take it.”

“Never. But they knew this was a probability and they’re taking it well. As well as can be expected, rather. They’re waiting for you outside.”

“Dena and Oscar?” I asked.

Dr. Morrison nodded. “Tania too.”

I nodded. “And my girlfriend?”

He smiled. “She’s here.”

“I’m here,” echoed a voice at the door. Kacey stood with her hand on the frame. Her face pale, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, her hair a sloppy ponytail falling loose. She looked so damn beautiful I could hardly breathe.

“Get lost, doc,” I said.

“With pleasure.” He got up and Kacey raced passed him toward me, threw her arms around me as best she could across the bed and buried her face in my neck.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice muffled.

“I need to tell you something too.” I pulled her far enough away too look at her, to brush the hair that stuck to the tears on her cheeks, like spun glass. “I’ve been such an ass to you, Kace. I’m so sorry. I was freaking out. Every minute I was feeling a different emotion and I—”