All the Pretty Lies (Pretty #1)(63)
Author: M. Leighton

“I’m surprised Dad left.”

“He didn’t want to, but he had to go. Something about your brother’s case.”

She doesn’t look bothered by the fact that he’s not here. I know she’s not when she raises her hand to cup the side of my face. “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’ve never left, Sloane. As long as you want me, I will always, always be by your side.”

Even though she smiles, as the doctor walks in, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: How long do we have? How long is always for us?

********

I’ve never seen so many people come and go from a room. Of course, I’ve never spent much time in a hospital either.

As soon as one person leaves, another comes in. Doing tests, hooking her up to machines, drawing blood.

I look out at the doctor, where he sits at a separate cubby, flipping through papers. I have to give him credit. He looks busy, taking in all these results and trying to make some kind of sense of them.

I glance up at Sloane. I can see what a toll all this commotion is taking on her. I mean, she woke up and probably isn’t feeling one hundred percent. But, like the strong-willed person that she is, she smiles through the whole thing, never giving someone even so much as a dirty look. It just makes me love and admire her that much more.

I watch her eyelids get heavier and heavier. I’m not surprised when she falls asleep just after the nurse leaves for the millionth time. When Sloane’s father arrives, I’m prepared for them to ask me to leave. I’m prepared to argue and give him every reason that I shouldn’t. But her dad saves me the trouble.

“He can stay. We won’t get in your way,” he assures the nurse.

She looks undecided at first. She glances at me and I hold her gaze. “Please.”

“Okay, but when the doctor comes in, he may not let both of you stay. You can work it out between you, who has to leave.”

With that, she makes her exit. When we are alone, Sloane’s father sits quietly on the other side of the bed, watching his daughter. I know the dread and fear he feels. I know it all too well.

I don’t know how long we sit like that, both of us silently watching Sloane sleep, but the doctor finally comes in. He keeps his voice low.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a long twenty-four hours for you, and I’m sorry about that. Considering Sloane’s condition, we needed to be thorough before we made any decisions about her care.”

I feel a cold knot of alarm rise from the pit of my stomach to stick in my throat. I reach for Sloane’s hand, taking it gently in mine as I listen. Her skin feels like cool satin against mine. It makes my heart ache to think of the similarity it probably has to the lining of a casket.

The knot grows larger.

“We’ve gotten most of the results we were waiting for. Only one of them came back positive.”

I drop down into the chair, bringing Sloane’s hand to my forehead. I feel it turn over and she splays her fingers along my cheek, lifting until my eyes meet hers. She’s awake. And her face is shining with love and fear and bravery.

I close my eyes. I can’t look at her, knowing that the doctor might say that this is the beginning of the end. However long it might take for the end to get here, it’s too soon.

“She has the flu.”

My eyes fly open. Sloane’s are wide as they stare into mine. At the same time, we both glance at the doctor.

“What?” she asks quietly, like she might be afraid she heard him wrong.

“You’ve got the flu. We did a nasal swab that tested positive.”

“All this from the flu?”

“Well, you had a very high fever and you were severely dehydrated. So much so that you had a significant electrolyte imbalance. It caused a cascade of other problems, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“So, she’s not…” Sloane’s father says in an unsteady voice that trails off.

“She’ll be fine, Mr. Locke.”

I see the relief that I feel as it overwhelms him. He slides limply into the other chair at Sloane’s side. “Thank God,” he breathes.

“No wonder I’ve felt like crap for the last few days,” Sloane says.

“You could’ve mentioned that, young lady,” Mr. Locke gripes good-naturedly as he raises his hand to brush Sloane’s hair. “You scared the life out of me.”

Sloane’s brow wrinkles. “You thought…because of Mom…?”

Mr. Locke nods, his eyes still shining. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose you, Sloane.”

She reaches up to still his hand, wrapping her fingers around his. “You can’t live afraid like that, Dad. None of us can. If it happens, it happens. The most important thing is to live life the best we can until then. Nobody has the promise of tomorrow. The only thing we can control is living today with no regret.”

“I know, hon, but it’s hard for a parent to do that. I hope one day you’ll understand that.”

“I hope so, too, Dad. But—”

“No buts,” he says with a smile. “We have today. And today you’ve got the flu. The flu we can handle. The flu you can recover from. The flu is…well, the flu,” he declares with a smile. “So, what’s the plan?” he asks the doctor.

“All we can really do is treat the symptoms. If she does well the rest of the night, I’ll think about letting her go home tomorrow. She needs to be taking good care of herself, though. Lots of rest and lots of fluids. Tylenol for the fever. Maybe some chicken broth thrown in there until you feel like eating more. We’ll talk more about that in the morning. How does that sound?”

His smile and demeanor are reassuring. They feel like a cool breeze on a hot day. They ease the ache in my soul, leaving me with only the determination to not lose one more second of time with Sloane. I never want to feel the way I have these last twenty-some hours again. Ever.

Sloane’s right. None of us have the promise of tomorrow, which means I need to start making the best of today. Right now.

“We’ll make sure she gets everything she needs, Doctor,” I say, glancing at Mr. Locke meaningfully before I look back down at Sloane.

He nods. “I’ll let you work out the details then, and I’ll be back in to discuss more in the morning.”

He smiles at Sloane, pats her foot and then makes his exit.

“Come to my house,” I ask, not caring that her father is still here. “Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you.” I see the indecision in her eyes. “Please.”