Page 17 of Love Wells Kept

“That’s not saying much,” Austin chimes in. “I watched Odessa take him out at the knees once.”

Denny points at Austin with a correction. “That was a cheap shot. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“My bad.” My hands move to cover my smile. “I told Odessa we don’t fight fair when it comes to fighting men.”

“I wasn’t fighting!” Denny says with a childish, spilling laugh. “She’ll have to teach Avery those moves in a couple years though. Apparently it’s frowned upon to punch teenage boys for breaking my daughter’s heart, so she’ll have to do it herself.”

Austin clarifies, “Not just frowned upon—illegal.”

“You just wait. If you and Cecily end up having a girl, you’ll share the same feelings me and Red have about this shit.”

Austin shrugs, not denying it.

“I’m glad I didn’t have daughters.” Bennett sighs. “But I think it’s pretty damn fitting you boys have them, given how much hell you raised with girls when you were younger.”

“I think it’s great. All these badass Wells daughters running the ranch in a couple decades.” I take a slow sip of tea, considering it. “Although I’m afraid Odessa will turn it into a barn cat sanctuary.”

Austin throws his hands up in the air. “Oh, so basically exactly what she’s doing right now.”

In the swell of laughter rippling through the room, the next breath of air feels so much lighter than moments ago. I wish Jackson was awake to see this—the slow, thoughtful mending of a fractured relationship between Austin and Bennett—but I have hope that he feels it. Hope that he’ll wake up and know deep in his soul how much love is around him.

Kate

After the first night, everyone tried to convince me to leave, to get some rest. Assured me it was good for me. But what’s good for me is being with my husband, holding his hand, and doing everything in my power to keep him from slipping away for good.

When my stoicism gave way to a tear-filled breakdown, Austin stepped in and demanded everyone leave me be. Since then, no one has dared to comment on my presence.

For the next four days, so many hospital shift changes happened, time lost meaning. I watched doctors and nurses flow in and out of the room throughout the day, pleaded with them for answers, drilled them for information. I watched their movements and read their subtle cues, clinging to anything that seemed hopeful.

Beyond that, I studied every detail of my husband’s skin, checked in on the kids—quashing Odessa’s worries and listening to Rhett recap all the episodes of Spider-Man that Beryl’s letting him watch—and reluctantly let Denny teach me how to play poker.

At one point, I became bored enough I got the idea to call my parents, which was an entirely unproductive conversation. I love them—don’t get me wrong—but they’ve always been the kind of parents who give you that distant pat on the back when you’re sad, instead of pulling your tiny, shaken body into their lap for an all-consuming hug. Not the type to drop everything and drive a few hours to see us. They sent their sympathy, reluctantly told me to call them if I needed anything, as if that wasn’t the purpose for my initial phone call.

One of the friendly older nurses slips into the dimly lit room to begin her morning routine. Quickly followed by Dr. Perron, who’s told us to call her Tanya. Being on a first-name basis with the ICU doctor doesn’t feel like a great sign, if I’m being honest. It gives take your coat off and stay awhile energy, as if she wants us to get comfortable in a room that’s the farthest damn thing from comfortable.

Austin and Denny no longer immediately straighten up when someone enters the room, but instead wearily lift their heads to acknowledge her. I insisted they could go back to the ranch yesterday, or at the very least spend a night in a decent hotel bed, the way Bennett has been. But the brothers insisted they weren’t leaving.

Just in case.

We keep saying those words.

But after four days of watching Jackson lie unresponsive in a hospital bed, covered in wires and tubes, just in case has pretty much lost all meaning. At this point, I’m afraid they’re here because they’re worried about me.

I’m cognizant of the fact that I’m a shell of myself right now. I eat and drink water and walk around Jackson’s room only when guilt over the fetus inside my womb weighs too heavy on my heart. I need him or her to be okay, just in case Jackson’s okay.

But if he’s not…how can I raise another baby that looks and acts like him?

I can’t.

The nurse scratches her pen across a thick stack of paper attached to a clipboard, dragging me from my intrusive thoughts.

“Good news,” Dr. Tanya Perron says nonchalantly, making the boys and me spring to life.

I stare unblinking, on the verge of tears. It’s astounding that my body still has the ability to produce tears, given how little sleep, food, or water I’m running on, and how frequently I’ve cried over the past few days.

“I think we’re ready to wean him off the sedation. See if he’s ready to wake up.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I lean forward to grip Jackson’s limp hand. “He’s going to wake up?”