Aidan pulls me with him. That’s all he gives her as we walk into the hospital, ready but not ready, and terrified to find out what’s going on.
I’m instantly assaulted with flashbacks of the last time I was here, even though I don’t remember being brought here. I do my best to push the memories aside, focusing on finding my mom. But those horrific images are still haunting me, trying to a great extent to surface, to break me down. I won’t allow it. I’m stronger than those memories. Aidan squeezes my hand when we approach the receptionist behind the counter. I know he can hear the foreboding, dark, and ugly trepidation in my voice when I give her my dad’s name, explaining I’m his daughter.
She tells us surgery is on the third floor. Aidan then asks her about Dilan. Without hesitation she explains his family is also in the same waiting room.
Diesel starts to fuss as we make our way to the elevator. Aidan releases my hand to soothe him, talking to him and rubbing his hands up and down his back.
“You okay, baby?” he asks when we step into the elevator, concern for my well-being written all over his handsome face.
“Yes,” is my reply. He seems to be appeased with my answer. Either that or it’s because we’ve already reached the floor. We step out of the elevator and turn right to where the sign directs us to the waiting room. My chest tightens. My nerves fray, threatening to tip me over the edge the minute I see my mom with her hands over her face. Calla and Cain are standing in the corner, arms wrapped around each other.
A couple I don’t recognize are sitting with Cecily, along with Alina and her mother and father, Charlotte and Ivan Solokov. God, what they must all be going through right now. The not knowing, the waiting has got to be slowly killing them all.
“Mom,” I say quietly when I near her. “Oh, sweetheart.” She stands, her legs shaky. I bring her into my arms, pinning her worrisome body close to mine.
Aidan jerks his head in the direction of the couple across the room. I’m assuming they are Dilan’s parents. I nod, watching the two of them disappear.
“Anything?” I ask. The second I do, we both turn around to a deep voice calling the name of Stefano La Russo.
“That’s us.” Mom lifts her head from my shoulder and grips firmly onto my hand, leading us to him.
“I’m his wife, Beth. This is our daughter, Deidre.” Her voice is revealing her worry.
“I’m Doctor McNeal. I’ve just performed the surgery to remove the bullet from your husband’s shoulder. First, let me ease your worried minds. He’s going to be fine.”
“Thank you, god,” Mom expresses, while I exhale the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“I’ve done a meticulous evaluation of the surrounding tissues and joints, as well as his muscles and ligaments surrounding the wounded area. He’s going to be in pain when he wakes up, but I can assure you there will be no permanent damage. Your husband, your father, is going to recover.” I lose it then. All this built-up tension. The entire situation unfolding in front of me. I begin to cry. Hysterically. Uncontrollably.
Once again when I wake, I’m back in a hospital bed. Only this time when I crack my eyes open, it’s to a tired but very handsome face with a smile written all over it.
“Why are you smiling?” I say groggily. He just stares at me, eyes unblinking, emotions unreadable.
“I’ll tell you in a minute or two.” I try and sit up. My stomach is aching and my head is killing me. I reach around to the spot that’s hurting, only to discover a knot the size of a golf ball on the back of my skull. I wonder if that’s the same spot Matthew hit me in. I don’t know anything anymore. This entire night has been noting shy of a traumatic nightmare.
“You smacked your head hard when you passed out. Scared the hell out of all of us.”
“I’m sorry,” I state. My sincere apology brings an even a bigger smile to his face. What game is he trying to play? The jerk. I’m not in the mood. I glance around the room. It’s not a normal hospital room. I’m confused.
“Where are we?” I utter, annoyed.
“In the emergency room. They brought you down here. Drew some blood. You’re fine, Deidre. You’ve only been out for an hour or so. You’re exhausted. The stress form the day took you under,” he declares.
“And my dad and Dilan? Are they both fine?” I remember the doctor telling us about my dad. I know nothing about Dilan. Surely, they must know something by now. Then before he can answer me, I search the small confinement we’re in. The curtains are drawn on both sides. There is no sign of my baby anywhere.