Page 121 of Rebel Hawke

The last thing I need to be reminded of is how vulnerable I am at this moment. Not when Gramps might be… I can’t even think of the possibilities. Instead, I cling to the hope that I getfrom knowing he was able to speak and ask for me when he was brought in.

“Wren Mason?”

My name carries through the waiting area, and I stand as a woman in green scrubs approaches us.

“How’s my grandfather?”

The nurse gives me a tight smile. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll explain as we walk?”

That doesn’t sound good.

The vise around my chest continues to tighten, only adding to the light-headedness and churning in my stomach, but Bishop keeps her arm locked with mine, making me walk steady as we make our way down the hall.

“He suffered a heart attack. He was apparently at his apartment building, and another resident found him in the hall.”

“Oh, God…” I stumble a step, but Bishop keeps me upright, making me move forward, following the nurse. “Is he…”

I can’t even voice the question. Can’t possibly fathom the possibility that something changed since I got that call and Gramps isn’t here anymore.

The nurse glances over her shoulder at us and gives me a tight smile. “He’s alive but very weak. I’ll let the doctor explain when she gets to the room.”

I know what that means.

I’m smart enough to read between the lines, and my medical training kicks in, all the things I learned in school about the human body and what happens to it as we age.

The man is almost eighty-five years old.

Of course, a heart attack isn’t going to end well for him.

We reach a series of small rooms along one wall, and she leads us into the second one on the right.

He lies on the bed, attached to wires and tubes, the slow beep of a heart rate monitor the only sound besides the hustle and bustle of the hospital surrounding us.

I stumble to his bedside and drop into the chair next to it, clutching his frail hand tightly. “Gramps, I’m here.”

His head turns toward me on the pillow, and his eyelids flutter. “Birdie?”

Tears blind me, and I squeeze as hard as I can, trying to reinforce that Iamhere. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Bishop steps back from the bed. “I’m going to go call everyone, let them know what’s going on.”

I glance over at her, hazy through the tears welling in my eyes. “Get Atlas here.Fast.”

She nods and slips from the room, the nurse right after her, likely to locate the doctor she said would speak with me.

“Wren, I…”

Gramps struggles, trying to shift on the hospital bed.

“No, it’s okay, Gramps. Don’t try to move or talk.”

He swallows thickly and tilts his head toward me, getting as close as he can.

I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be okay.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not. It’s time for me to finally pay the price for my sins.”

The price for his sins?

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