Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” Cora asks me, her brows pinched together with concern.
“Yes.” I breathe in and out. “Do you guys want to get food on the way home?”
“No,” Emerson says, yawning. “I just want to go to bed.”
“Me too,” Cora says.
I called Luca’s house home. A pang of sadness hits when I realize I’ve come to think of his house as my home more than my New York apartment. Home really isn’t a place. Luca’s arms have become my home. Cora and Jack’s laughter. Emerson’s warm, squishy goodnight hugs.
I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to any of them. It’s best if I just go back to my old life and keep my distance.
It takes risks to find real happiness. Love means potential hurt. I’ve felt that hurt before, and I don’t think I could survive it again.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Luca
I sit up and run a hand through my hair, looking around the darkened hospital room.
It’s morning. My internal clock is telling me that, even though I didn’t sleep much on the cot the hospital put in Jack’s room for me.
Once he got admitted, he covered up in bed and slept like a baby, which is good.
But me, I mostly tossed and turned, worried about what’s going on with him. I wasn’t really expecting the doctors to admit him. They assured me they’ll have more answers for us today.
We found out late, or early, that Jack has Mycoplasma pneumonia. The doctor assured me he can make a full recovery from that. But they think there’s also something else going on with him, and that’s what has me worried.
Quietly, I get up and walk over to the chair my suit jacket and tie are draped over the back of. Taking my phone out of my jacket pocket, I sit down and check messages.
There are texts from Anton, who knew I was bringing Jack here when I cancelled on going on with the team, Andrea, who left right after Abby did but told me to let her know if I need anything else, and Abby.
Abby. I texted her when I got the news about pneumonia and she sent back a short response. All I want right now is to talk to her, but I don’t want to wake Jack up, so I text instead.
Me: Hey, are you up?
Abby: Yes! Waiting to hear from you. I can’t believe Jack has pneumonia. He’s been going to school and hardly even complaining.
Me: I know, me too. I feel shitty that I didn’t notice something was up.
Abby: Don’t beat yourself up. You’re getting him treated now. Did he sleep okay?
Me: Yeah, he’s slept all night. Still out.
Abby: Good. What are they doing for the pneumonia.
Me: He’s getting antibiotics.
Abby: Did you sleep okay?
Me: No. How are you guys?
Abby: We’re good. Emerson’s still sleeping and Cora and I are making pancakes.
There’s a soft knock on the door and someone walks in. I’m relieved to see the guy’s white coat. Hopefully it’s a doctor with news about Jack.
Me: Hey, brb.
I set my phone down and stand up, approaching the doctor. He reaches out a hand and gives me a firm handshake.
“Hi Luca, Johnathan Lake.” He smiles. “I’m a big Blaze fan.”
“Hey, thanks.”
His expression turns serious, and my pulse races with worry. I steel myself for bad news. Whether I’m ready for it or not, Jack needs me to be the best I can for him.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long to find out what’s going on. Our lab was busy with emergency patients last night.” He gestures at the chair I was sitting in. “Do you want to sit down? I tend to just lean on the window ledge when I’m talking to patients and families.”
“No, I’m good.”
His expression softens. “Jack’s going to be okay. He has Mycoplasma pneumonia, which we’re treating, and he also has mononucleosis hepatitis.”
I furrow my brow and Jonathan pats my upper arm in reassurance. “Mono,” he says. “It’s commonly known as a kissing disease, but it can be spread by coughing and sneezing, too. And the hepatitis part just means Jack’s liver is slightly enlarged.”
“His liver is enlarged?”
“It’s just a side effect of the illness. There won’t be any treatment required except physical activity restrictions. It’s important not to touch him in the abdomen area for around six weeks. I expect he’ll make a full recovery from all of this.”
I exhale, still full of questions but also relieved. “So you’re saying he’s gonna be okay? What about the enlarged lymph nodes?”
“Just his body’s response to what’s happening.”
“I don’t mean to be insulting here, but…you’re sure?”
Jonathan nods. “I should’ve told you I’m a pediatrician. I’ve seen this before, quite a few times. I’d like to keep Jack here for one more night, so we can make sure we’re not seeing any signs of jaundice and get those antibiotics kicking in. But he’ll be okay.”