Page 31 of Ripple Effect

“None of this is your fault, okay? We couldn’t have known this would happen.”

“Yeah, okay.”

We fall into silence, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the room. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s the kind that feels safe, warm.

This is where I’m meant to be, with him, even though it scares the hell out of me. But whatever I’m feeling now, it’s different than anything I’ve felt before—for my other friends, even for Logan.

It’s fear and concern, yes, but it’s also something deeper. Somehow, some way, it feels a lot like ... attachment.

13

ELIO

I wakeup to the alarming sounds of medical machinery, the smell of antiseptic, and a sterile, white ceiling hanging above me. A sickening sense of déjà vu hits me, the familiarity of the scene unsettling, to say the least.

My head throbs, and I wince at the memory of the pain from earlier, hoping that it was another random fluke and not a forewarning of things to come. But then, there’s a comforting squeeze on my hand, and I turn my head to see Daisy—her warm brown eyes, the tiny little scar above her left eyebrow, and that soft, blonde hair that halos around her face.

Fuck, she sure is a sight for sore eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, the words scratchy in my dry throat. “How long have I been out?”

Daisy takes a deep breath, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a piss-poor attempt at a smile. “Just about half an hour. Don’t worry about me, though. You need your rest.”

“Okay,” I croak out, reluctantly turning onto my side, not bothering to fight the drowsiness any longer. Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to keep my eyes open in this place.

I’m in the hospital for the rest of the day, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. They run some more tests, wheel me in a meal, and then I pass right back out. Through it all, Daisy remains by my side, a comforting presence in the cold, clinical room.

With her help, I manage to get in touch with my brother, Luca. He’s the only one I trust to not blow this whole thing out of proportion. Our parents tend to overreact, and the last thing I need right now is more fucking stress.

“Hey, I’m at Harbor Point,” I tell him over the phone, trying to sound nonchalant. “Had a bit of a scare, but I’m okay now. They’re still not quite sure what happened—some heart issue, I guess.”

“Fuck, El,” he says roughly. “You’re good now, though? You’re stable?”

“Yeah, for now. Just about to get discharged. If you’re not too busy, er, if you’re around, that is—could you give me and my friend a lift home?”

He agrees without hesitation, and an ounce of tension seeps out of my body.

I spend the next hour waiting for Luca in a haze, my mind running wild with questions.Why did this happen? How did this happen? Will it happen again?

Dr. Foster’s still uncertain, just as useless and confused as I am. He continues to assure me that I didn’t have a heart attack, that I’m stable for the time being, but that’s where his comforting words end.

Instead, he’s sending me home with a parting gift—a Holter monitor. It’s a simple-looking device that carries the heavy responsibility of cataloging my every heartbeat. I have to wear it constantly for the next two weeks, and while I hate the idea, I know it’s a necessary evil.

But it also means I have two more weeks of waiting, two more weeks filled with uncertainty.

I’m supposed to go about my daily activities as much as possible while avoiding any unnecessary strain. If it wasn’t immediately obvious, partner scenes are off the table for the time being.

“Alright, Mr. Reynolds,” Dr. Foster begins, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. He rolls over to me on a squeaky stool and searches beneath my shirt to attach the monitor. The whole ordeal is uncomfortable, not because of the cold gel or the slight tug as he attaches the leads, but because of the look of worry in Daisy’s eyes as she watches from across the room. “Remember, any chest pain, difficulty breathing, or severe weakness needs to be reported to us immediately, okay?”

I nod, acutely aware of how quiet the room has gone. It’s just the three of us: me, Daisy, and Dr. Foster, who’s focused on my chest as he attaches the monitor.

Daisy’s eyes are locked onto me, filled with something I can’t quite decipher. Worry, definitely, but also a strange, fierce determination that catches me off guard.

“Do you live alone, Mr. Reynolds?” Dr. Foster’s question cuts through the silence like a knife, his eyes still focused on the monitor.

I nod, finding my voice. “Yeah.”

He clicks his tongue, finishing up with the wires. “I’d strongly recommend having someone stay with you for a little while. The next two weeks are crucial. If you experience a recurrence of today’s episode and there’s nobody there to help, the outcome may not be the same as today. Do you have a partner or a family member who could stay with you?”

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