Page 61 of The One Who Changed Everything

And in that moment, I let go.

“Thank you,” I whispered, the words thick with emotion, meaning them more than I had ever meant anything in my life.

His arms tightened around me, pulling me close, and I let myself sink into the warmth and safety of him. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t carrying the weight alone.

I was his.

And he was mine.

And we were home.

CHAPTER 24

Evan

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and coffee—two things that didn’t belong together but somehow always did in places like this. I’d parked myself at the nurses’ station, leaning against the counter as I scanned the clipboard they’d handed me. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a pale glow over everything, but I forced myself to focus.

"Okay," I said, tapping the pen against the paper. "And you’re absolutely sure she’ll be under for the whole procedure? No surprises?"

"Mr. Mercer," the nurse—Tina, according to her name tag—said with a patient smile, "this is a very straightforward implant surgery. Dr. Patel is one of the best in the state. Sophia will be completely sedated, and we’ll monitor her every second. You have nothing to worry about."

"Right," I said, nodding, though my chest still felt tight. "I’m just... you know. Making sure."

"Of course." Tina’s smile was comforting, and she reached out to take the clipboard back. "She’s in good hands. I promise."

"Good hands are great," I replied, shoving my own into my pockets. "Just make sure those hands are steady, too."

"Got it. Steady hands only," she said with a chuckle before disappearing down the hall. She was apparently very used to nervous parents questioning everything. Sophia had just been rolled off to surgery for her ICD implant, leaving us to wait anxiously. All my research and all the doctors had assured me that this was a very minor surgery with very low risk. But that didn’t stop my heart rate from spiking as they wheeled my girl through the double doors.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a fraction. Turning, I saw Samantha sitting in one of the stiff plastic chairs by the waiting room window. Her arms were crossed loosely, but her foot tapped against the floor in a restless rhythm. She glanced up as I approached, her eyes meeting mine with an expression that was equal parts exhaustion and worry.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"They think I’m crazy," I said, dropping into the chair beside her. It creaked under my weight. "Am I overreacting?"

"Nope," she murmured, her gaze drifting back to the window. Outside, the sky had turned that washed-out gray that came before a storm. "She’s strong, you know. She’ll get through this."

"Yeah," I said, though my throat felt tight again. I wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. But the image of Sophia’s small frame hooked up to monitors, her heart struggling against a condition none of us had seen coming—it stuck with me, refusing to let go.

When Samantha finally told me about insurance’s refusal to pay for the implant for Sophia, I’d been furious at their incompetence and frustrated that she’d resisted telling me for so long. Then, I’d just been unimaginably grateful I had the means to provide what she needed. I’d also immediately set up a portion of funds from the Mercer Foundation so families could apply for the cost of these types of devices to be paid for by the non-profit. The program–I called it Sophia’s Smile–was alreadybeing shared with hospitals around the country so they could direct families in need to the resources we had available.

We lapsed into silence for a while, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but wasn’t exactly easy, either. The hum of the vending machines filled the space between us, along with the occasional murmur of voices from other families in the waiting area.

Samantha shifted in her seat, uncrossing her arms. "Thank you," she said suddenly, her words so quiet I almost missed them.

"For what?" I asked, glancing at her.

"Being here. Doing all of this." She hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You didn’t have to."

"Yes, I did," I said simply, because there was no other answer. “She’s my daughter, Sam. You have to know I’d do anything for her. For both of you,” I amended.

She didn’t respond, but something in her posture relaxed just a little. Her tapping foot stilled.

"I know I told you that I tried to find you. I didn’t tell you that my father…" I paused, inhaling deeply through my nose. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my lungs, and for a moment, it steadied me. "He’s the one who interfered.”

Her shoulders stiffened. I hated seeing that. Hated knowing my family had done this to her, to us. But I wasn’t going to run from it now. Not anymore.

"I didn’t know until I found you. But apparently he thought he was protecting his legacy or whatever garbage he tells himself to sleep at night." My voice sharpened, but I forced myself to soften it again. This wasn’t about my father. This was about her. "But, Sam, I need you to know—" I leaned forward, elbows resting on my thighs, trying to catch her eye. "That’ll never happen again. Never. I won’t let it."

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