Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
My woman. No, fucking hell. I need to be cold—ice.
“You’re going to tell them you’ve got a Bratva connect with a serious arms-dealing operation. You met this friend during one of your coke binges. You’ve met the boss, and you’ve secured a deal. Honestly, I don’t give a shit how you get them in the room.”
I lower my voice even more, a guttural growl underlying my words. “You’re free to tip them off,” I say, standing up and tucking my pistol away. “Or you could tell Tank. Or you could run. Those are all possible options, Raffie. You just have to ask yourself …”
Staring down at him, I say, “You just have to ask yourself, ‘Who are you more afraid of?’”
I walk to the door. Before I leave, he says, “I’ll do it, T. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never felt like this before.”
Back in my car, I check my cell. I’ve got two missed calls and a text from Maya.
I know this is over, but Mom’s in the hospital. I’m not sure she’s going to be okay.
I swipe the message aside, my thumb over the delete button. This is too much to think about. I need to be sharp, ready, and deadly.
Then I quickly type, What hospital?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MAYA
My phone buzzes from my pocket, but I can’t check it now. Doctor Johnson, an older lady with a kind demeanor and a gentle voice, tells me what happened to Mom. It takes everything I have to keep myself together.
“Your mother has developed pneumonia. In the early stages, it can start with symptoms like a persistent cough, sometimes with phlegm, a low-grade fever, and increased shortness of breath. Given her ALS, these symptoms can be particularly challenging because her respiratory muscles are already weakened.”
“Uh, okay,” I murmur, my voice becoming strangled as my tears threaten to choke me.
She gives me a small smile of support. “What we see with her right now are these early signs. Her oxygen levels are lower than normal. She’s breathing faster and using her neck and shoulder muscles to help her breathe. She’s also having trouble clearing her throat, which can lead to more severe infections if not managed properly.”
I squeeze my hands together, almost like I’m praying.
“Pneumonia in ALS patients needs careful monitoring and treatment, which we’ve started here in the hospital. We’re giving her antibiotics to fight the infection and providing respiratory support to help her breathe more comfortably.”
The doctor pauses, then glances at the seats just off to the side, where Riley is waiting. I’m too wired to sit down.
She goes on, “Considering her condition and the progression of her ALS, I want to discuss the best long-term care options. At home, it can be incredibly challenging to manage the complexities of ALS, and now, with this added respiratory issue. It’s crucial to ensure she has round-the-clock care and access to medical professionals who can respond quickly to any changes in her condition.”
“I know,” I say, as a familiar note of defeat rises in me. “I’ve known that for a long time. I think I’ve just had trouble admitting it.”
“It’s not easy,” she replies with genuine sympathy. “However, I recommend that we consider transferring her to a specialized care facility, a nursing home equipped to handle ALS patients. These facilities have the necessary medical equipment and trained staff to provide her with the proper intensive care. They can manage her respiratory support, help with her nutrition and hydration, and provide therapies to maintain her comfort and quality of life.”
She reaches forward and touches my arm. Something in the steadiness of her gaze tells me people like me many times. “I understand this is a difficult decision, but it’s about ensuring she gets the best care in a safe environment. It’s not an easy transition, but it’s the best way to ensure her health and well-being. A nurse will let you know when you can see her.”
The doctor leaves us, and I drop down in the chair beside Riley, slumping down in defeat. Tristan just texted asking which hospital. I almost don’t tell him. It wasn’t even a whole workday ago that he told me we had to stay away from each other.
“This is my fault,” I whisper.
“What?” Riley snaps. “Don’t say that.”
“If she were in a home, they would’ve noticed the symptoms sooner.”
“Stop, Maya,” Riley says fiercely. “Don’t even start down that road.”
My shoulders slump as I glance at my phone again. I called him without even letting myself consider other options, other people. Tristan is the only one I wanted to be with, the only one I think can make any of this even a tiny bit better.
I quickly type a reply, telling him which hospital.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Riley says when Tristan arrives.
Several nurses sneak glances at Tristan as he walks by: tall, handsome, and in control. Despite everything, I want to yell at these nurses and tell them he’s mine. Nuts, nuts, nuts! Yet, does it feel true?