Page 62 of Bred By the Minotaur
“You seem lost,” he says.
“I’m looking for Hank Pittsfield.” Instinctively, I pull Milo against me and stroke his hair. “He’s the firefighter.”
The doctor’s expression falters. “Oh, him.” He nods for me to follow down the hall. “He’s in surgery right now for his leg, but...” He shakes his head. “You should know he’s inhaled a lot of smoke.”
That’s not what I want to hear.
He shows us to some seats in the waiting room. Milo cries in my lap, and I hold him tight, trying not to cry myself. I call Imelda to tell her where we are and what’s happened to Hank.
Finally, we’re allowed in to see him. My minotaur. He’s hooked up to machines, all of them beeping. His eyes are closed, and his leg is splinted and wrapped. He’s not moving.
Fuck. Not Hank. Please, not Hank. My face feels tight and my pulse thunders even faster, because I can’t believe it’s him there, beat up and unconscious.
“His heart is trying its hardest,” the doctor says with a pitying look. “It’s fighting, but it’s an uphill fight.”
Milo breaks into renewed tears and rushes to his dad’s side. He grabs Hank’s big hand with his tiny one.
“Dad!” he cries out, but his dad doesn’t answer.
I kneel beside Milo and pull him into my arms, patting his newly trimmed hair. I have nothing to tell him to make it better.
“Is he going to survive?” I ask the doctor in a quiet voice.
He looks down at Milo, then at me, and lets out a resigned sigh. When he speaks, he speaks so only I can hear. “It depends on Hank. The next few hours are going to be critical.”
At that moment, Imelda rushes into the room. She grabs Milo and hugs him tight as they both cry next to Hank’s bed.
The doctor takes that moment to pull me aside. “I want to prepare you for the worst. If he inhaled too much, it could cause organ failure. Or he could have a heart attack.”
My own tears finally break free as he says these words to me.
“We don’t know,” the doctor says quickly. “Hopefully he’ll wake up soon—that would be a good sign.”
Hank can’t. He just can’t. I still had so many things I needed to tell him. I should have said yes when he asked me to marry him, so he would know that I loved him even if we never saw each other again.
No, I can’t think like that. I need to believe that someone as strong and determined as Hank can do it.
The doctor leaves us, and we all take up positions around the room as Hank’s machines beep. Milo falls asleep with his head on his grandmother’s lap.
“Tell me how bad it is,” Imelda whispers to me.
I clench my hands into fists and breathe hard so I don’t cry again. “They’re monitoring his oxygen levels, which are dangerously low, and pumping him full of it.”
She drops her head, and I rub her shoulder with one hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Phoebe.” She puts her hand on top of mine and smiles at me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad Milo has you right now.”
I cover my face, the guilt nearly devouring me.
“He asked me to marry him,” I finally say, hiding behind my fingers. “He asked me, and I said I didn’t know. He told me he loved me, and I didn’t say it back. What if... what if I never get the chance?”
I try to keep my voice quiet as it shakes.
“Oh, honey.” She squeezes my hand. “You will. I promise you will. Hank is a fighter. He’s fought for you since the moment he met you, and he’s not going to stop now.”
What? Since he met me?
