The Last Letter(37)

Though Ella was terrified, I knew it was Colt who had the most to lose when it came to Maisie, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

I pushed my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep from going to her. That need pulsing through me was selfish, because holding Ella would help me but not her. There was nothing I could do for her besides stand and witness what I knew she feared would be her last moments with her daughter.

Powerless.

I was so damn powerless. Just like I’d been when we’d finally found Ryan’s body, three days after the op had imploded. There was nothing I could do to bring back his heartbeat, to erase what had to have been the worst hours of his life, or miraculously heal the bullet wound that had entered at the base of his skull and exited…

Havoc. Sunset on the mountains. Ella’s smile. I mentally repeated my three as I let out a shaky breath, blocking out the thoughts. The memories. They didn’t belong here. I couldn’t help Ella now if I was trapped then with Ryan.

One of the nurses spoke to Ella, and my throat squeezed shut momentarily when Ella leaned forward to kiss Maisie’s forehead. Maisie’s hand appeared over the rails of the bed, handing over a worn pink teddy bear. Ella nodded and took the bear. They wheeled Maisie down the hallway and through a set of swinging double doors.

Ella stumbled backward until her back landed against the wall. I lurched forward, thinking she might hit the floor, but I should have known better. She held herself against the wall, the bear clutched to her chest like a lifeline as she raised her head toward the ceiling, taking gulping breaths.

She didn’t turn to me, or the nurses who walked past, just drew inward as if she knew her only source of solace was going to come from somewhere deep within herself. My composure deserted me as I realized that she didn’t look for comfort because she wasn’t used to getting any, that this scene would be identical if I wasn’t here.

But I was here.

Knowing it was an intrusion, and beyond caring, I walked forward until I stood in front of her. Her eyes were closed, her throat working as she battled for control. Everything in me ached to hold her, to carry as much of the burden as she’d let me.

“Ella.”

Her eyes fluttered open, shining with unshed tears.

“Come on, it’s going to be a long day. Let’s get you some food and some coffee.” If I couldn’t care for her heart, I could at least sustain her body.

“I…I don’t know if I can move.” Her head rolled slightly as she looked toward the doors. “I’ve fought every day for the last five months. I’ve taken her to treatments, argued with the insurance companies, fought with her over capfuls of water when the chemo made her so sick she dehydrated. Everything we’ve fought for has been for this moment, and now that it’s here, I don’t know what to do.”

I got a firm grip on my volatile emotions and reached for her face, only to stop myself and lightly grasp her shoulders.

“You’ve done everything you can. And what you’ve accomplished, how far you’ve brought her is astounding. You’ve done your job, Ella. Now you have to let the doctors do theirs.”

Her eyes found their way back to mine, and I felt her torture like it was a physical pain through my stomach, the ceaseless cut from a dull knife tearing me in two. “I don’t know how to give that control over to someone else. She’s my little girl, Beckett.”

“I know. But the hard part is already over. You signed the papers, no matter how difficult it was, and all we can do now is wait. Now, please. Let me feed you.”

She pushed off the wall, and I retreated a step, putting a respectable amount of distance between us. “You don’t have to stay. They said it’s going to be hours, and not just a few.”

“I know. Her tumor is on the left adrenal gland, and though it’s shrunk, there’s still some very real danger that she’ll lose that kidney. A longer surgery means they’re doing everything they can to save it, and that they’re being thorough to get every scrap of that tumor out. I was listening when they prepped you this morning.”

A sad half smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You do that a lot. Listen. Pay attention.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Just surprising.”

“I don’t care how many hours it takes. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

An eternity passed as she made her choice, not just to get food but to believe me. To trust that I meant what I said. I knew the moment she’d decided, when her shoulders dipped, a tiny bit of the tension draining from her frame.

“Okay. Then we’re most definitely going to need some coffee.”

Relief was a sweet taste in my mouth, a gentle, full feeling in my heart. Unable to find the right words, I simply nodded.

…

“So the bear?” I asked two hours later as we sat in the waiting room, side by side on the couch, our feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Aah, this is Colt,” Ella explained, lovingly stroking the face of the fuzzy, well-loved bear.

“Colt is…a girl.”

“Maybe Colt just likes pink. You know, only real men can pull off wearing pink.” She shot me a sideways glance.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

After a light breakfast—her stomach was too queasy for more—we’d fallen into an easy rhythm of conversation. Effortless, even.