Chapter Forty Eight

Tuesday;

Montgomery and I sat in the waiting room, enveloped by a heavy silence. She sat next to me, her back stiff against the chair, her leg bouncing in a relentless rhythm—a visible pulse of her worry. I glanced sideways at her, the anxious energy radiating off her like a storm. "Your mother will pull through," I murmured, my voice a soft reassurance. Her gaze shifted to mine, her eyes shadowed with fear. "I hope so," she replied quietly.

Minutes ticked by in torturous slowness. I watched as, unable to stay seated any longer, she abruptly stood and strode over to the nurses' station. She was out of earshot, but I could see the tension in her body as she spoke. Then her voice rang out, cutting sharply across the waiting room: "How hard is it to send someone in there to get an update on my mother?"

I quickly stood, heading over to her side just in time to see her slam a fist down on the counter. "Just give me a damn update," she hissed, her tone laced with barely-contained anger. Before she could escalate further, I reached out, gently but firmly gripping her elbow, steering her away from the counter.

She jerked her arm free, her eyes flashing with irritation as she glared at me. "Just let me get an update," she demanded, her voice taut. She turned back toward the nurses' station, but I stepped in her way, holding her gaze steady. "Johanna," I said, my voice calm but firm. Her eyes widened slightly at the sound of her name on my lips, a flicker of surprise breaking through her frustration.

"It's only been about fifteen minutes," I continued softly. "Give them some time." She opened her mouth, a retort undoubtedly ready, but I held up a hand, cutting her off gently. "It's a heart surgery—it's going to take hours. They'll come out and give us an update as soon as there's something to share."

Montgomery looked at me, her eyes conflicted. Finally, she exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. "Alright," she whispered, relenting, though the worry in her eyes remained. I reached out, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze, and together we returned to our seats to continue the waiting game.

Montgomery leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she buried her face in her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp. I could feel her anguish radiating beside me, the weight of it pulling the air down around us. I wanted so badly to reach out, to say something that might offer her comfort, but the words tangled up in my mind, uncertain and inadequate. So, I just sat close, offering what presence I could.

"Johanna," a gentle voice called, breaking the tense quiet. We both looked up to see Carol Vargas approaching, her steps quick but graceful, her expression soft with concern.

"Carol," Johanna exhaled, standing up as if pulled by invisible strings. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm listed as one of your mother's emergency contacts," Vargas replied softly, her voice warm. Without hesitation, she enveloped Johanna in a comforting hug. Johanna melted into it, her arms wrapping tightly around Vargas, as if anchoring herself. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither saying a word, just holding on.

When they finally pulled apart, Vargas kept a gentle hold on Johanna's elbow, guiding her back to the seats. I saw the glistening in Johanna's eyes, but she blinked rapidly, fighting it back, determined not to let any tears fall.

"Hello, Valentina," Vargas greeted me, offering a small, warm smile before turning her attention fully back to Johanna. She sat close, wrapping her hands around Johanna's, grounding her. "Jo," she murmured, her voice a steady reassurance, "everything will be fine. Your mother is strong."

She gave Johanna's hands a comforting squeeze, her words like a balm in the heavy air around us.

I sat quietly, watching Vargas as she leaned in close to Johanna, her presence soothing in a way that only a long-time partner's could be. My stomach twisted slightly, a pang of something uncomfortable rising up, but I brushed it aside. Right now, Johanna needed all the support she could get.

"Let me get you something to eat from the cafeteria," Vargas offered, gently releasing Johanna's hand as she stood. Her gaze shifted toward me, polite and warm. "Would you like anything?"

I shook my head, offering a small smile. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

But Johanna turned to Vargas with a quiet insistence in her eyes. "She'll have a chicken mayo sandwich," she said firmly, her voice low but certain. Vargas gave a nod and turned, disappearing down the hallway.

I blinked, a little taken aback. Johanna remembered my favorite sandwich? It sent a rush of warmth through me—she remembered details, little ones that seemed insignificant but clearly mattered to her.

She let out a soft sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, the strain and exhaustion clear in the tightness of her shoulders. She leaned back in the seat, and her gaze drifted to me, her expression momentarily unreadable.

"You don't have to be here," she murmured, her voice gentle. "I can manage on my own."

A half-smile tugged at my lips. "Right, like you managed with the nurse just now?" I teased lightly. Her gaze softened, and the ghost of a smile danced across her lips. She knew I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm fine right here," I assured her, settling back into my seat. She gave me a small, grateful smile before reaching over and taking my hand in hers. Her fingers squeezed mine, firm and grounding, then let go just as quickly, as if she couldn't let herself linger.

Vargas returned a few minutes later, handing me a neatly wrapped sandwich. I thanked her with a nod, unwrapping it and taking a bite, letting the familiar taste calm me a little. She settled beside Johanna, passing her a ham and cheese sandwich. Johanna mumbled a half-hearted "thank you" but simply stared at the food in her hands, not even attempting a bite.

Vargas gave her an encouraging nudge. "You need to eat, Johanna," she said softly, her tone gently insistent. Johanna groaned but finally took a small bite, chewing reluctantly. We ate in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, the air heavy with unspoken worry.

After finishing her sandwich, Vargas dusted the crumbs off her lap and stood. "I'm going to head home for a bit, change into something more comfortable, and check on Tuna," she said, fishing Johanna's keys from her bag. She placed a reassuring hand on Johanna's shoulder. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

Johanna nodded in acknowledgment, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of gratitude in her eyes. Vargas offered a quick, reassuring smile before she turned and made her way out of the waiting room, leaving me alone with Johanna once again.

I glanced over at her, unsure what to say, but knowing that sometimes silence speaks louder than words.

About twenty minutes after Vargas left, a young intern in scrubs appeared in the hallway, his eyes scanning the waiting area until they landed on us. He walked over, his gaze steady but his expression sober. The moment Johanna saw him approaching, she shot to her feet, her fingers fidgeting restlessly as if bracing herself for bad news.

"Johanna Montgomery?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying a gravity that made my stomach twist. She nodded, her face pale and tense.

"My name is Dr. Percy," he introduced himself, folding his hands together. "We've encountered a complication during the surgery—there's been some unexpected bleeding. We're working to manage it and are doing everything we can to stabilize her condition. This may extend the surgery, but I want you to know that our team is experienced in handling situations like this."

My heart sank at the news, and I could see the subtle tremor in Johanna's hands as she rubbed her forehead, struggling to absorb what he'd said. She opened her mouth as if to respond but closed it again, words seeming to fail her.

Dr. Percy nodded in a way that seemed both reassuring and deeply empathetic. "I understand this is difficult news, but we'll keep you informed throughout the process. I promise we're doing everything we can."

With that, he offered a small, solemn nod, then turned and walked back down the corridor, leaving us standing in the silent, tense air of the waiting room.

I looked over at Johanna and saw her face crumbling, tears glistening in her eyes. She pressed her hands to her head, as if holding herself together was the only way to keep from falling apart. "I can't do this," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stay here." She turned, as if to leave, but I quickly reached out, my hand gently catching her elbow. "Don't go."

She shot me a glare and yanked her arm back. "Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice sharp and full of hurt. "I'm leaving."

To hell with it—I couldn't just let her walk out. Without thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly. She stiffened and tried to push me away, her hands pressing against my shoulders. "Let me go!" she hissed, but I only held on tighter, my grip firm but gentle. Her resistance faded, her voice softening into a defeated plea. "Please... let me go..."

And then, as if all her strength had drained away, she broke down in my arms, clinging to me as sobs wracked her body. Her grip tightened as she shook, her face buried in my shoulder. "If my mother dies, I'll die along with her," she choked out, each word a raw, aching confession that tore at my heart. I just held her, pressing her close, steadying her.

"Your mother will be okay," I murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "She's strong, and she has you." I could feel her breaths begin to slow, though her grip on me didn't loosen.

Finally, I whispered, "Come on, let's go sit down." She nodded, wiping her eyes as she slowly let me go. Her gaze drifted to my shoulder, noticing the damp spot where her tears had soaked through. "I... I ruined your shirt," she said with a shaky laugh, embarrassment mingling with sorrow.

"It's fine," I chuckled, glancing down at the wet patch. "Just a little water."

Back at the seats, we settled down, with Johanna visibly calmer though the occasional sniffle escaped her. The silence stretched between us, thick with lingering tension and worry, until her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, answering without even checking the caller ID. I watched as she pressed it to her ear, her face shifting into a mask of quiet concentration.

She stayed silent for a few moments, simply listening, and then nodded as if the person on the other end could see her. "I understand," she murmured, her voice low and tired. "Thank you for swinging by." She ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket with a sigh. "Carol had something to take care of," she explained softly, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment as she looked down at her hands.

Then, unexpectedly, Johanna leaned her head on my shoulder. The touch was gentle, but it caught me off guard, making me stiffen. After a beat, I relaxed, letting her rest against me. Her hand found mine, her fingers curling around mine in a gesture of quiet gratitude. "Thank you for being here," she whispered, her voice warm with sincerity.

"Of course," I replied, offering her a small smile, hoping it conveyed all the unspoken support I wanted her to feel.

After a while, Johanna's breathing softened, her chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. The tension had melted away, and she looked peaceful, her face finally free of worry. I shifted slightly to glance down at her and realized, with a mixture of surprise and awe, that she had fallen asleep—right there, leaning against me. Her hand still held mine, fingers woven tightly together as if she trusted me to anchor her.

Suddenly, a voice broke the quiet, startling me. "Valentina?" I looked up, finding my aunt making her way over, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What're you doing here?"

I gave her a soft smile, careful not to disturb Johanna. "Elizabeth is in surgery, so I decided to wait with Johanna," I murmured, keeping my voice low.

My aunt's gaze shifted to Johanna, and her brows furrowed slightly, her eyes narrowing in recognition. "She's the woman, isn't she?" she asked, a knowing look crossing her face. "The one you mentioned having issues with."

I nodded, glancing back down at Johanna's resting form. "Yeah," I replied quietly. "But things are...better now." I could feel a gentle warmth growing in my chest, a kind of reluctant fondness I hadn't expected to feel.

My aunt's expression softened, and she gave me an approving smile. "She's beautiful," she observed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"She is," I admitted, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I studied Johanna's face—peaceful and, somehow, completely vulnerable.

My aunt settled into the seat beside me, her gaze drifting between me and Johanna, then settling on Johanna with a quiet, contemplative look. "She's quite a bit older than you," she remarked, her voice gentle but pointed.

I let out a soft sigh, casting a brief glance down at Johanna's relaxed face resting on my shoulder. "I know," I admitted, as much to myself as to her.

"How old is she?" my aunt asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

I paused, realizing that even I didn't know the answer. "I actually... don't know," I said, feeling a little sheepish. In all our interactions, it had never come up. She seemed mid-thirties, maybe? But I couldn't be sure. I hadn't thought to ask, hadn't wanted to, really—it wasn't something that mattered to me.

As I gazed at Johanna, I knew this was probably unconventional, maybe even frowned upon, but there was no denying how deeply I felt drawn to her. The age difference was there, but so were my feelings, stubbornly and undeniably.

My aunt's hand gently squeezed my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. She gave me a knowing, affectionate smile. "Take care of yourself," she murmured, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek before standing.

I watched her leave, her footsteps fading down the hall, leaving me alone with Johanna, who continued to sleep peacefully. Her breathing was soft and steady, and I felt oddly protective, unwilling to move a muscle and disturb the rare calm on her face.

Hours had crawled by, and my back was stiff, my legs sore, but I stayed perfectly still, refusing to shift even a little, afraid that any movement might disturb Johanna's much-needed sleep. I could feel every uncomfortable pinch in my muscles, but I pushed through it, letting her rest.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by the soft swish of doors opening, and I looked up to see a surgeon approaching us. His face was neutral, impossible to read. He stopped just a few feet away, and my heart hammered in my chest.

"If it's bad news, I won't wake her," I whispered, glancing down at Johanna's peaceful expression. "Let her sleep a little longer."

But the surgeon gave me a small, reassuring smile. "It's good news. Go ahead and wake her."

Relieved, I gently squeezed Johanna's hand, leaning closer. "Johanna, wake up," I murmured, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes fluttered open, disoriented for a moment until they settled on the surgeon, her gaze sharpening with anxious anticipation.

"Your mother pulled through," he said, and Johanna's face lit up, relief flooding her features, chasing away the worry that had clouded them for so long.

The doctor continued, "We managed to control the bleeding and temporarily stabilized her heart. It's a temporary fix, and we can't say for certain how long it will hold, but she's been moved to the top of the transplant list. We'll keep monitoring her closely."

"Thank you," Johanna breathed, her voice thick with emotion. She looked at the surgeon, the question already forming in her eyes. "Can I see her?"

He nodded. "You can. She's still under anesthesia and will be for a few more hours, but you're welcome to sit with her."

Johanna's shoulders dropped, and she exhaled deeply, a wave of tension visibly leaving her body. She turned to me, but her smile faded, replaced by an uncertain expression.

"Uh, thank you for sitting with me," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Confused, I tilted my head. "Can't I go sit with you in her room?" I asked, my brow furrowing at the sudden distance she was putting between us. Johanna pressed her lips into a thin line, a clear sign of her discomfort.

"I'd rather you not," she replied, already stepping away from me, her body language closed off.

"Have a good day," she called over her shoulder, her tone clipped as she walked away, leaving me rooted in place, stunned. Was she serious? After sitting with her for all those hours, she was basically shooing me away now that her mother was fine? Who does that?

I watched as Montgomery slipped through the doors, her figure disappearing down the hallway. Was this because she had cried in front of me? Was she embarrassed for showing a side of herself other than the usual irritation?

What the hell was wrong with her? My heart sank with confusion and frustration as I stood there, grappling with the sudden shift in our dynamic.

This fucking bitch...