Page 96 of Dr. Brandt

Don’t fucking say it.

“In fact?” Cameron urged, and his irritation fed mine.

“I just know if I were with Warren, I wouldn’t have spent the last month living in a fantasy world, and I would’ve been there for my son.”

“Is that what you feel this last month was, a fantasy world?”

“Wasn’t it? Living some idea, focused on our perfect little family, while we should’ve been focused on fixing Jackson and not our relationship? Instead, we were careless and foolish, and now my son lies helpless in an ICU bed. And for what, so I could have a little fun, right? Put myself first for once, yeah? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me this entire time?”

I covered my mouth, forcing myself to shut up. I saw the pain in Cameron’s eyes, and I knew it wasn’t fair. I wasn’t mad at him. I didn’t think I was, anyway. I was mad at myself. Mad at the world. I was just fucking mad.

“Instead, you were with me, living a life with your son that you both deserved. A fucking fluke incident happened, and now you’re blaming your lack of judgment for taking me back?”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Cameron.”

“It doesn’t matter at this point. I cannot worry about how this affects our relationship. I can’t worry about anything. I must focus on Jackson and helping him.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I answered. “I need to be with him. Have you decided how you’ll move forward?”

“As I said, I’m still waiting on more labs. I’ll meet with my surgical team after I bring you to his room, and there, we will go over everything, including the safest way to proceed.”

“Do you believe you’ll do the hemispherectomy?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “With everything I’ve gone over, I can safely say that is the best option. I just need more results back before we make the final decision.”

“Okay,” I answered, my emotions stable.

I needed to be with Jacks and wait for Cameron to get his answers, and then we’d go from there. My parents and Warren couldn’t get here fast enough.

I had no idea why, but Cameron brought me no comfort right now. I desperately wanted and needed someone familiar, and Warren had always been an anchor. I knew he would ground me, and I needed that comfort more than ever.

Chapter Forty

Jessa

I hadn’t seen Cameron much since my parents and Warren arrived, but it wasn’t because he was upset they were here. Cameron had been in Dr. Brandt mode since I woke up in his on-call room four days ago after I fainted.

He’d been relentlessly going over lab work, ordering more and more scans of Jackson’s brain activity, and while he was in that mode, I would talk to my sleeping son, doing everything I could to bring him back to me.

I pulled my fingers through the top of Jacks’s silky-soft onyx hair. There was a terrible hole in my heart and soul that I could never describe, and now and then, the pain caused a spasm to rip through me when I took a breath. I was exhausted and wanted my son back, but all I could do was keep pushing through each moment, hoping for a miracle.

Today, a pediatric neurosurgeon from Stanford joined Cameron’s team at Cam’s request. The physician was a friend of Cam’s from college, and Cam said he wanted the man’s second opinion as things were leaning toward a better outlook if the surgery was performed.

I trusted Cam and his team explicitly after living in this hospital twenty-four hours a day, all week. Still, I wanted Cameron to feel one hundred percent sure about everything, so whatever that man needed, I was behind it. I wasn’t arguing with anyone at this point.

“Jacks, you’ve officially missed the playoffs. You and I know that Cam and his buddies would’ve made sure you saw it in person if you would’ve just woken up,” I said.

Then a thought hit me, and I walked out of the room to find a nurse.

“Ms. Stein,” the older woman greeted me. “Is everything okay?”

“I have a silly question,” I said. At this time of night, the only thing that could be heard in this hospital wing was the beeping of monitors and the shuffling of nurses when they got up from their desks to check on patients every so often. It might’ve even been considered peaceful under any other circumstances.

“Nothing is silly,” she smirked. “I’m Polly, by the way. I see that Laticia is assigned to your son, Jackson. Would you rather ask her? She’s just with another patient.”

“No, I’m good,” I answered her smile with a tired one of my own. “I just had a question about patients in a coma.”

“You want to know if they can hear you while they sleep?” she said inquisitively, and after I nodded in response, she continued. “There are many schools of thought on the topic, but I believe they can. Call me eternally optimistic, but I think there is too much evidence to suggest they don’t. We’ve had a handful of reports from patients who had certain recollections from their time in a coma, so who am I to dispute that?”

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