Maybe Someday(81)

how. All I can think about is how completely

helpless I feel, how much he’s hurting, and how

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scared I am that he might lose Maggie, because

it’s so painfully obvious how that would kill him.

He brings his other hand up to mine, which is

still gripping his shoulder. He squeezes both of

his hands around mine desperately, then tilts his

face toward his shoulder. He kisses the top of my

hand, and I feel a tear fall against my skin.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against

the back of his seat, and I cry.

? ? ?

We’re in the waiting room.
Well, Warren and I are in the waiting room.

Ridge has been with Maggie since we arrived an

hour ago, and Warren hasn’t spoken a single

word to me.

Which is why I’m not speaking to him. He ob-

viously has an issue, and I’m not really in the

mood to defend myself, because I’ve done abso-

lutely nothing to Warren that should even require

defending.

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I slouch back in my chair and pull up the

search browser on my phone, curious to know

about what Warren said to the 911 operator.

I type CFRD into the search box and hit enter.

My eyes are pulled to the very first result:

Managing cystic fibrosis–related diabetes.

I click on the link, and it explains the different

types of diabetes but doesn’t explain much more.

I’ve heard of cystic fibrosis but don’t know

enough about it to know how it affects Maggie. I

click a link on the left of the page that says, What is cystic fibrosis? My heart begins to pound and my tears are flowing as I take in the same words

that stick out on every single page, no matter how

many pages I click.

Genetic disorder of the lungs.

Life-threatening.

Shortened life expectancy.

No known cure.

Survival rates into mid- and upper thirties.

I can’t read any more through all the tears I’m

crying for Maggie. For Ridge.

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I close the browser on my phone, and my eyes

are pulled to my hand. I take in the unread words

in Ridge’s handwriting across my palm.

I need you to move out.

Ridge

Both Warren and Sydney spring to their feet

when I round the corner to the waiting room.

“How is she?” Warren signs.

“Better. She’s awake now.”

Warren nods, and Sydney is looking back and

forth between us.

“The doctor says the alcohol and dehydration

probably caused her . . .” I stop signing, because

Warren’s lips are pressed into a firm line as he

watches my explanation.

“Verbalize for her,” I sign, nodding my head

toward Sydney.

Warren turns and looks at Sydney, then refo-

cuses his attention on me. “This doesn’t concern

her,” he signs silently.

What the hell is his problem?

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“She’s worried about Maggie, Warren. It does

concern her. Now, verbalize what I’m saying for

her.”

Warren shakes his head. “She’s not here for

Maggie, Ridge. She doesn’t care how Maggie’s

doing. She’s only worried about you.”

I bury my anger, then slowly step forward and

stand directly in front of him. “Verbalize for her.

Now.”

Warren sighs but doesn’t turn toward Sydney.

He stares straight at me as he both signs and

verbalizes for us. “Ridge says Maggie’s okay.

She’s awake.”

Sydney’s entire body relaxes as her hands go

to the back of her head and relief washes over

her. She says something to him, and he closes his

eyes, takes a quick breath, then opens them.

“Sydney wants to know if either of you need

anything. From the apartment.”

I look at Sydney and shake my head. “They’re

keeping her overnight to monitor her blood sugar.

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I’ll come by tomorrow if we need anything. I’m

staying a few days at her house.”

Warren verbalizes again, and Sydney nods.

“You two head back and get some rest.”

Warren nods. Sydney steps forward and gives

me a tight hug, then backs away.

Warren begins to turn toward the exit, but I

grab his arm and make him look at me again. “I

don’t know why you’re upset with her, Warren,

but please don’t be a jerk to her. I’ve done that

enough already.”

He nods, and they turn to leave. Sydney looks

back over her shoulder and smiles a painful

smile. I turn and walk back to Maggie’s room.

The head of her bed is slightly raised now, and

she looks up at me. There’s an IV drip in her

arm, replenishing her fluids. Her head slowly

rolls across her pillow as her eyes follow me