Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) (28 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

DEAN

“DEAN, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

Liv’s skin is yellowish in the overhead fluorescent lights of the hospital emergency room, her eyes downcast.

Sure. I pull my gaze from her and stare at the floor, gripping my hands together. The burn inside me is back—eating away at everything, leaving a path of hot, dusty ashes.

If
I hadn’t asked her to meet me at Java Works.

If
I hadn’t gone after Allie.

If
I hadn’t let go of Liv.

“Dean.” Liv settles her good hand on my arm, her expression somber. “I don’t blame you, but I’m going to tell you that you’re starting to hurt us. You’ve been more like yourself these past few weeks, but you have to find a way to deal with your anger. I’m having a hard enough time getting through these treatments without worrying about you too.”

I know she’s right. I just don’t know how the hell to change. The only times I feel okay, even good, are the days when Nicholas, Archer, and I work on the tree house. But even then, simmering underneath everything like a river of fire, is the horror of what Liv is still enduring. And the fear of what the scans will reveal once she’s finished with chemo.

The curtain flips open, and the emergency room doctor enters, followed by a nurse. They both glance from me to Liv. Tension grips my neck suddenly.

“Looks like a moderate sprain, but no fracture.” The doctor turns an X-ray on the computer screen toward us. “A compression bandage and ice will help.”

He takes an elastic bandage from a cart and unrolls it. “Mr. West, will you step out for a moment, please?”

“He doesn’t have to—” Liv begins, but the nurse is holding the curtain open for me.

I walk a short distance away, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest. If they overheard what Liv said…

The questions they must be asking her stab through my mind.

Did your husband hurt you? Does he have trouble managing his anger? Do you feel safe with him?

Holy fucking Christ.

An eternity passes. When the nurse calls me back in, I can’t look at Liv. Not even the brush of her hand against mine eases my sense that if I don’t get my shit together soon, I’ll end up destroying some fundamental part of our relationship.

If I haven’t already.

“Ice it twice a day, keep it elevated,” the doctor says, wrapping an elastic bandage around Liv’s wrist. “Ibuprofen for the pain, but double check that with your oncologist. When is your next appointment with him?”

“This Friday.”

The doctor looks at Liv’s chart on the computer screen. “And your last chemo?”

“Five days ago,” Liv says. “I have a few rough days right after the infusion, but then I start to feel better.”

“And you’ve been feeling okay the past twenty-four hours?” the doctor asks.

Liv nods. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“You have a slight fever. Did the nurse mention that to you?”

Liv shakes her head, glancing at me. A knot tightens in my stomach.

“What’s my temperature?” she asks.

“100.4. What instructions did your oncologist give you regarding fevers?”

“He said to come in if I had a temperature of over 100.5 since that could be the sign of an infection,” Liv says. “But I feel fine. No chills or anything.”

“Muscle weakness?” the doctor asks.

“No… well, I mean, I guess my legs went weak when I lost my balance, but other than that…” Liv’s voice trails off.

The doctor turns away from the computer, his forehead furrowed. “I’ll give your oncologist a call.”

I let out my breath slowly.
Infection.
It’s a word I’ve dreaded since hearing that Liv had to have chemotherapy, my head filling with nightmares of a caustic virus coursing through her body, her blood, her bones.

After phone calls and consultations, Dr. Anderson admits Liv for overnight observation and comes to meet us at the hospital. I text Claire that I’ll be home later than expected.

Liv is put into isolation and started on antibiotics. A blood draw reveals her white blood cell counts are dangerously low. Dr. Anderson tells us she needs to stay hospitalized until she’s stable again.

“How long will that be?” Liv asks.

Her voice is steady, but her eyes simmer with frustration and distress. I put my hand on the scarf wrapped around her head.

“Hopefully not more than a few days,” Dr. Anderson replies. “We’ll get the test results back soon and see if we need to start you on a different course of antibiotics. I want your white cell count to be in normal range before I release you.”

Liv touches my arm. She’s struggling not to cry. I almost go down to my knees in… what? Prayer? Pain? Begging?

“Tell the kids I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodnight to them,” she says. “If they’re not sleeping, have them call me when you get home, okay?”

I nod, unable to speak past the constriction in my throat. “I will. I love you.”

But like everything else I’m doing now, the words are not enough.

After hours at the hospital, I return to the Butterfly House late at night. There’s a package on the doorstep. I bring it inside, drop my keys on the kitchen counter, and tug at the knot of my tie.

I open the package to reveal a little round box embroidered with a butterfly design. I’ll bring it to Liv tomorrow. Another butterfly gift will lift her spirits.

My eyes burn. Footsteps sound on the stairs. I turn as Claire comes into the kitchen, looking concerned.

“Hi,” she whispers. “Kids are asleep. How’s Liv?”

“Her fever isn’t bad, but they’re worried about her blood count.” I drag my hands over my face. “Everything okay here?”

“Fine. I let the kids watch a movie so they would be a bit distracted. Do you want anything to eat?”

“No.”

“How long do they have to keep Liv in the hospital?”

“They don’t know yet.”

“I can stay the night,” Claire offers. “If you want to get to the hospital early tomorrow, I mean. I have extra clothes in my gym bag, and I can get the kids ready and off to school in the morning.”

Though I know she means well, I don’t want her staying overnight or getting the kids to school. Liv is the one who should be doing that.

But she’s not here.

“Uh… okay.” I have no idea if my greater responsibility is to get my children ready for school or to be at the hospital with my wife. “Do you need…”

“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” Claire says. “Don’t worry about me. You should probably get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah.” I thank her and trudge up the stairs, stopping in Bella’s room to kiss her goodnight, and then in Nicholas’s room.

He’s sound asleep, but he stirs when I lie down on the bed beside him. I pull him against me, absorbing the weight of him, the sound of his breath. A cracked, jagged ache pushes at my chest. I fight it down, refusing to let it anywhere near my son.

I don’t think I can sleep, but I’m lulled into a shallow doze that breaks only when dawn light seeps through the windows. I detach myself from Nicholas and check my phone for messages about Liv—nothing—before going to shower and change.

Downstairs, I make coffee, text Frances to tell her I might not make it to campus later, and start making breakfast for the kids.

“Morning.”

Startled, I turn. Claire is standing in the doorway. It takes me a second to remember she stayed the night.

“Sorry.” She grimaces at my reaction. “This must be so awful for you.”

My automatic response is that it’s not as awful for me as it is for Liv—but it’s a useless comparison. I’m not the one who’s sick.

Instead I shrug and gesture to the coffeepot. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

I pour her a cup and leave it on the counter while I go back upstairs to wake the kids. I call the hospital, and the nurse tells me Liv is asleep and “stable,” whatever that really means.

I want to hear that she’s
fine.
I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

“Claire is going to take you to school,” I tell the kids as they sit at the table eating cereal. “I’m going to see Mom in the hospital.”

“I want to go,” Nicholas says, frowning down at his Cheerios.

“Me too,” Bella chimes in.

“I’ll pick you up after school and take you to see her,” I say, though I’m not at all sure the nurses will let them into her room. “Or she might even be home by then.”

“I want to see her
now.
” Nicholas drops his spoon with a clatter, his chin setting with stubbornness.

“You can’t see her now, but—”

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” Bella chants, pumping her fists in the air.

Faint desperation rises in my chest. “Come on, both of you finish your breakfast and get dressed. I need your help.”

“No!” Nicholas pushes his cereal bowl off the table. The plastic bounces off the tile floor, spilling milk and a few Cheerios.

“Uh oh,” Bella remarks, leaning over to examine the mess.

“Nicholas.” My voice sharpens along with my irritation. “Enough. Upstairs
now
.”

Though he usually obeys when I use that tone, this time he shakes his head mutinously.

“Maybe we could call your mom and you can talk to her,” Claire suggests as she grabs a roll of paper towels and cleans up the mess. “But you don’t want to have to tell her you’re not dressed and ready for school.”

“Daddy.” Bella turns to me, lifting her arms.

I pick her up. “Come on, Nicholas. Remember when we talked about all of us having jobs to do? One of your jobs is to go to school and do your best work.”

Claire rises to throw away the wet paper towels. She takes Nicholas’s hand and guides him off the chair.

“Get dressed quickly and we’ll call your mom,” she says. “I’ll bet she can’t wait to talk to you, but she needs to hear your happy voice. That will make her feel much better, and then maybe she’ll be able to come home sooner.”

Nicholas doesn’t look convinced, but he follows her upstairs. The heavy stomp of his feet is the only evidence of his resistance. After both kids are dressed, I call Liv’s cell phone, which goes to voicemail, and then I dial the hospital. The nurse tells me Liv is still sleeping and they’ll have her call me when she wakes.

This news almost sets Nicholas off again, but Claire hustles him and Bella to the car, saying something about having pizza for dinner.

The guilt digs in harder as I watch them go. I’m not either the father or husband I should be. I don’t even know what I should be doing differently. I can barely see beyond the next five minutes.

Before going to the hospital, I drive to Allie and Brent’s house. Both of their cars are parked outside, and Brent answers the door. His expression hardens when he sees me standing on the front porch.

“Hey, Brent.” I almost back up a step at the outright hostility radiating from him. “Is Allie here?”

“Yeah, but you need to leave her alone, man.” He glances behind him and steps onto the porch. He’s an easygoing guy, easy to like, but right now he looks like he wants to hit me. Can’t say I blame him.

“I get that you’re going through a rough time,” Brent says. “And I’m sorry for it. I hate that Liv has to go through this. But that doesn’t mean you can lay into people, especially Allie. You do that again, and you and I are going to have a serious problem.”

“I know. I came to apologize.”

“I’ll pass on the message.” He steps back, his eyes hard. “But stay away from her now. She’s been really upset over this whole thing and she—”

I look behind him to where Allie is approaching the door. She’s pale, her expression worried and sad.

“Allie, I…” Something sticks in my throat. “I’m really sorry.”

Allie puts her hand on Brent’s arm when he starts to speak.

“I know,” she says. “How is Liv?”

For a second, I can’t even answer her. I swallow hard and manage to say, “She… she’s in the hospital. Her wrist is sprained, but when we were at the emergency room, they discovered she had a fever. So her oncologist wanted to admit her for blood tests.”

Allie’s shoulders slump. “Oh no.”

“She’ll be okay. They’re treating her with antibiotics and will probably keep her there for a few days.”