The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,134
my life motherless because of your mistakes. You are going to make it up to me, though. Big time. You can start by bringing all of us coffees and pastries. The Brennans haven’t eaten all day, and I’m famished.”
She nodded, wiping her face quickly, sniffling.
“Will do. Right away. Oh, Aisling, thank you so much.” She grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “I will not let you down, love. You will see.”
She ran toward the elevators on her high heels, ignoring the disturbed glares of onlookers.
I was choosing me now.
Me … and the man I loved.
It had been six hours since I’d arrived at the hospital, and there was still no word from the operating room. I knew no news wasn’t necessarily bad news. It meant they were still working hard to save his life. I also knew that it didn’t matter.
I was dangerously close to a massive heart attack.
Nurses and doctors rushed in and out of the room, wearing bloodied uniforms and grave frowns. I shamelessly pounced on them, demanding answers, but they shook me off every time.
The waiting room thickened with people. At first, I failed to notice it, too wrapped up in running all possible scenarios and outcomes to Sam’s condition in my head, but now, lifting my gaze from my lap, I saw it.
Troy, Sparrow, Cillian, Hunter, Devon, my parents, and Sailor were here now, together but alone, each of us shaken to the core.
The distress for Sam’s well-being was thick in the air, hanging like fog above our heads.
Troy was on the phone, barking orders, demanding action, no doubt trying to find more information about the attack, planning how to strike back at the Bratva. Sparrow looked so frail, I was afraid if I reached out and touched her she would break.
I moved over to her. “It’ll be okay,” I whispered, trying to convince myself the same in the process.
Hunter had told me the bullets pierced Sam’s shoulder and chest. It was hard to estimate the damage when I had no concrete information.
Finally—finally—a middle-aged doctor in stained scrubs with sweaty temples came out of the operating room. I was the first to dart in his direction, with Sparrow following closely behind me.
“Hello, I’m Dr. McKinnley. Are you the wife?” He turned to me.
“I will be soon.” I jerked Sparrow close to me. “This is his mother. Please tell us how he is doing.”
He ran his gaze over me skeptically. He wasn’t supposed to hand out information to those who weren’t Sam’s kin.
“Aisling is a doctor here, too. An OB-GYN,” Sparrow explained, putting a protective hand over my shoulder. “You can tell her.”
The doctor shot me another look and turned his focus back to Sparrow.
“It was a close call. He is still not out of the woods yet. The main issue isn’t the shoulder wound. We removed the bullet, and although it’s still early to tell, it is my belief that the bullet did not tear through more than muscle tissue and did not touch any of the nerves. Our main concern was the chest wound. It hit too close to home, to put it bluntly. In close proximity to the heart. It took us three hours to remove the bullet alone. He lost a lot of blood. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. We’re moving him to the recovery room as we speak. He needs a good rest. I cannot stress that enough. For that reason, we would prefer if he sees one visitor at a time.”
Sparrow and I exchanged glances. I didn’t dare hope. She was his mom, after all. She deserved to see him first. My future mother-in-law squeezed my hand in hers.
“Over two decades ago I told Sam that one day a woman would walk into his life and prove to him that he doesn’t hate all women. He put up a good fight, I’ll give him that, but I think you finally broke him. It’s you he’ll want to see when he opens his eyes. In fact, I am told by Troy that he specifically asked for you when he was rushed here. You should go.”
“Are you sure?” I bit my lower lip.
She smiled, pain marring her expression. “Absolutely positive, dear.”
I followed Dr. McKinnley along the narrow linoleum hallway like a punished kid, not sure what was waiting for me at the end of the journey. When the surgeon pushed the door open, he said, “Remember, he is frail right now, even if he doesn’t look it.”