Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(169)

It’s been hours, and I’m cold and hungry and so terrified I’ve dug half-moons into Chris’s hand. When another hour passes with no word, I go into a trance, seeing and hearing nothing as I frantically keep praying that she’ll be all right, that while I’d cooked goddamned lamb in the kitchen she hadn’t died.

I don’t remember a pulse or breathing sounds. Just her cold, gray skin and the expressionless mask on her face.

I feel arms come around me and I lean in, needing so much more than this but grateful to Chris all the same.

“I don’t think she made it, Chris,” I say through stiff lips that threaten to tremble. “They would have said something by now. Oh God, why haven’t we heard anything?”

The uncertainty and terror is choking me, and it takes everything not to collapse in a heap of sobbing misery. All I can think is that she’ll never shove bread rolls in her panties again, and I’d just stocked up.

I can’t even begin to imagine how I’ll live without naked Thursdays, either, which is awful because the neighbors are threatening to get us evicted.

“Shhh, darlin’, she’ll be just fine. You just take a deep breath and calm down.”

I nod, not yet registering that the arms and the voice, the solid heat surrounding me and keeping me up, do not belong to my best friend. When I do though, I can honestly say I am floored.

“Greg? W-what…how?” I stammer, seeing him through a sheen of tears as profound relief hits me. “She…she…”

I can’t finish as a doctor stops in front of me, looking grim.

“Miss Newman, I’m Doctor Jonas. I’m sorry for the wait, but I wanted to be sure she was out of the woods before speaking with you.”

I rise to shaky feet, grateful for the strong arms that keep me close and hold me up. If not for this I would likely be a wrecked puddle on the floor.

“She’s okay?”

I feel tears streaming down my face and ignore them, almost sobbing my relief when he nods.

“She had a mild heart attack, but at her age it is usually fatal. You got to her just in time. We’ve stabilised her, and we’re keeping her sedated until her pressure comes down. Her levels are looking much better, though, so I don’t see any need to worry at this point.”

“She’s okay then? She won’t die or anything?”

“She’s a tough old bird. With proper rest and medication she should make a full recovery, although I will stress that she will need a calm, stress-free environment. And day care.”

Day care? I’ll quit my job and do whatever needs doing as long as she’s okay.

“Thank you, Doctor. When can we see her?” Gregory asks.

“You can see her for a few minutes now, and then tomorrow morning during visiting hours.”

I nod and allow myself to be pulled along, snapping out of my daze enough to realize that Chris is flanking me on the other side, and for once mute about Gregory’s presence.

I’m totally exhausted and so grateful to see her breathing and alive I burst into tears when we near her bed. Those strong arms pull me into a solid chest, and I feel his hands soothing me.

“Let’s get you home, darlin’. You’re done in.”

I am, but with him here I feel more than better, and I nod tiredly as he takes my hand and leads me away.





Chapter Twenty Six




“Hannah, wake up.”

I feel a hand ghost over my cheek and open my eyes, stretching languidly. Gregory is leaning over me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s holding a breakfast tray.

“Come on. Sit up.”

I do, and look down in wonder at the feast he expects me to finish.

“Gregory, this is way too much food,” I begin.

He shushes me and picks up the fork, glaring at me till I open my mouth and accept the bite of eggs and bacon he’s speared on it. We don’t speak as he feeds me, though I did reassure him I can feed myself, and when I am done he rises and leaves the room, taking the empty tray with him.

When he comes back all tenderness is gone, which I suppose is only fair, seeing as it’s been five days since Nana’s heart attack and I no longer need him to keep me from going nuts.

I cherish that brief time of care, but I see now that it’s over, and I prepare myself for whatever crawled up his ass this morning.

“I am very glad Nana is okay.”

“Me too,” I murmur, pulling the sheets up to my naked breasts. “Could I get dressed?”

I ask every time, because if I do get dressed and he doesn’t want me to, he can be one mean son of a bitch when he retaliates. The last time I’d made that mistake I’d had to sit through an hour of some weird documentary I can’t remember while he tortured me with his hands and mouth.