Page 150 of Vegas Heat

I think about just showing up, but he’s the one who said I shouldn’t. I don’t want to step on any toes. I don’t want to walk on the wrong side of the imaginary line we’ve drawn.

But I want to be with him.

I want to hold his hand through this—and not just this, but through everything.

CHAPTER 19: COOPER

My own heart has been thundering since the plane landed. Is this it? Is it happening to me, too?

I realize it’s just nerves, but that doesn’t make it any less stressful as I get off the plane and find a ride to take me to Connor’s place.

The last time I was here was last Christmas. Santa came, and in with him apparently flew Uncle Coop.

I texted my mom as soon as the plane touched down to let her know I was here, and she said she was at the hospital. Marissa went home to get the kids off to school, and their dad has been traveling so much lately that neither of them even knows he’s at the hospital. I guess they wanted to keep it quiet until they knew what they were dealing with, and it’s one of those odd situations where I wonder how I would’ve handled it with my own kids.

Would I have woken them and hugged them before I let the ambulance take me away, or would that have just traumatized them?

I think back to when my own dad passed. I was the same age my nephew Jacob is now.

He had a heart attack while he was at work. He was inspecting a circuit breaker one minute and unconscious the next. The ambulance didn’t even make it on time to try to revive him.

When we said goodbye that morning before I left for school, I had no way of knowing it would be the last time.

But that’s life, isn’t it? We never know when we’re doing anything for the last time until we look back and can say it was the last time. It’s fleeting and it’s ever-changing and it’s indiscriminate.

I didn’t know when I busted my elbow that it would be my last time playing ball, but it was—or at least Ithoughtit was until a month ago when Troy gave me the opportunity to come back. But it’s rare to get a second chance at the big things.

He’s only thirty-seven.

That’s the thought I keep circling back to.

He’s only thirty-seven.

My dad was only forty-one.

I’m thirty-three. Four years away from thirty-seven. Eight years away from forty-one.

I don’t feel like I’m on the way out. I feel young most days, but I’m afraid growing old just doesn’t run in the genes of the Noah men, and the whole reason I’m here today proves that.

Troy was beyond understanding, and he surprised me when he admitted heart disease runs in his family, too. He told me he lost his father to a heart attack a decade ago, and if he wasn’t so stubborn and he would’ve just gone to the hospital, he might’ve survived it.

That’s what I’m clinging to—that Marissa called the ambulance in time. That she got my brother help in time.

My sister-in-law opens the door when I knock. She suggested I swing by the house first to drop my bags. She’s going back to the hospital anyway, so she showered and waited for me so we could go see my brother together.

“How’s he doing?” I ask as I step in and wrap my sister-in-law into a hug. Marissa and Connor have been together for nearly as long as I can remember. They met in junior high and have been inseparable ever since. She was there when Dad died, and she’s been like a sister to me for just as long.

“They put in a stent last night to release the blockage, and now he’s in the CCU,” she says.

“The CCU?” I ask.

“Cardiac Care Unit. They’re running labs to see how he’s responding, and he’s resting in between. He has to stay flat for a while since he’s on blood thinners and has an open entry point, but we’re hopeful they’ll move him to the regular telemetry floor later today. You ready to go see him?”

I nod, setting my suitcase to the side of the door, and I follow her through the house to the garage, where I slide into the passenger seat of her SUV.

“How are the boys?” I ask, trying to make conversation as we head toward the hospital, and I guess that’s the question that breaks the camel’s back, because Marissa starts to cry. I think about trying to backtrack, but I’m not even sure how at this point.

She blows out a breath. “I just feel so guilty that they’re at school totally oblivious to what’s going on with their dad.”

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