Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
They were gonna send me home with a four-day supply of Ativan, a strong recommendation to take time off work, the “order” to make an appointment with my primary care physician, and: “For the inflammation, take 400 milligrams of ibuprofen and 1000 milligrams of acetaminophen three times a day for a week.”
“So, no diagnosis.” I was finally allowed to get out of the hospital gown, so I removed it and shrugged on my shirt.
“If you want to get specific, you need further examination,” the doc said. “But you’re likely suffering from burnout symptoms, which you should take very seriously. Stress, anxiety, lack of rest and proper sleep, always being on the go—all that goes straight to your heart in the end. High blood pressure, chronic inflammation, and panic attacks are clear warning signs.”
I hadn’t taken any of this seriously before, but after last night…
I had run out of time.
I swallowed hard.
And it was bizarre. It wasn’t the chest pain or the ambulance ride that’d sealed the deal for me; it was the look in Cam’s eyes. I’d hurt him. I’d let him down.
Let’s face it, he wasn’t here. Family members were allowed to spend the night with a loved one, and nobody had. I had no recollection of seeing anyone here last night, aside from KC. I could only make guesses about Noa. But Cameron…? If this had been a couple months ago, he wouldn’t have left my side, even for a second.
“It’s about who will take care of me when I’m sick. When I’m old, when I come home from work. Who will remember me when I’m dead. It sure ain’t coworkers and clients. They don’t care if I work myself into an early grave.”
Goddammit, Santiago. We didn’t know each other well enough for him to be in my fucking brain.
The nurse opened the door again and poked her head in. “I have two family members itching to see you, sir.”
Two family members. Two, not three.
Fucking hell, that hurt.
What have I done?
As I stepped into my pants, KC and Noa appeared in the doorway, both dressed in hoodies and sweats. Noa was half hidden behind KC and looked like he’d just woken up, but KC had showered and most likely completed his workout. Which meant he hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. Because of me.
“Hi…” Noa was uncharacteristically shy as he snuck closer, and I couldn’t take it. He was too adorable, his voice hit me in a way that made my eyes smart, and I was suddenly desperate for his energy and affection.
I sat back against the edge of the hospital bed, and I cleared my throat and managed to motion for him to come to me. And he didn’t hesitate. He rushed over, and then I had him in my arms.
God.
I buried my face in his hair and breathed him in, and if I hugged him any tighter, he’d suffocate.
KC asked to speak with the doctor, so they went outside, and that was just as well. I’d reached my limit.
“You gotta be okay,” Noa said thickly.
I drew a deep breath, and for a brief moment, the ache lessened. It made me want to overanalyze when the pain struck and why, why it faded, why it changed, why it moved.
“I will be,” I murmured. I eased back so I could cup his face in my hands—and I saw the hurt in his eyes too. The doubt, the worry. Cam wasn’t the only one I’d lied to. Intentionally or not, I’d overestimated my capabilities far too long. I’d said I was fine even when I’d known I was so far from it. “I’ve heard my wake-up call.”
He bit at the corner of his lip, hesitating. “Do you promise?”
I was half surprised he wanted a promise. I’d made those before, and they’d meant shit.
“I’ll prove it,” I said. “I want you to trust me again.”
He smiled carefully and shrugged a little. “I trust you now too—as long as you make changes. And, um, you gots to make things right with Cameron. He’s scared.”
Ouch.
Talk about sobering.
I swallowed.
He’s scared.
“When Daddy said you weren’t having a heart attack and that you’d recover…” Noa trailed off and scratched the side of his head. “I think it flipped a switch or something—I don’t know. But Cameron went from worrying like crazy to shutting down. And then after we dropped him off, Daddy and I talked, and he said, like, Cameron could be afraid to lose you—and I sort of know he is—but Daddy put it in perspective for me. So he’s distancing himself, preparing himself, in case you won’t start taking care of yourself. It’s a trust thing, I guess.”
And so the pain was back. It happened so swiftly and suddenly that it had to be about this and nothing else. I mean, this specific hurt—this very bout of anxiety-laden pain—was all about Cam. Anxiety wasn’t only “in your head.” It could provoke physical responses.