Page 32 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

Ford was supposed to have the surgery to remove the cyst last week, however, his seizure activity delayed the procedure until they stabilized him. So, now, a bunch of us are waiting for any news on Ford, sitting in God-awful chairs, and staring at the walls or playing on our phones…or building up a good mad at the only person they’ve ever loved. Not that she knows that, because I haven’t told her. I’m waiting, on what I have no idea, but I’m waiting.

That’s a lie. I know why. Ford’s entire personality has been altered by this cyst, and he’s become an uber asshole. What if they remove it and he goes back to being a normal more palatable asshole? What if…what if he realizes he loves Quinn, and she chooses him over me?

I know in my soul that she’s mine. And I know she cares a great deal for me. But is it enough to keep her? We’ve talked, a lot, and she has said more than once that her feelings for Ford were muddled and confused at first. In essence, he was an emotional rebound after her divorce and she latched onto their friendship, concocting a potential romantic relationship out of nothing. She’s also mentioned that Ford was the right guy at the right time because he was the wrong guy for her. She wanted to date because it was the next logical step, but she wasn’t ready, and Ford was a safe option because she knew he would never feel that way about her.

Quinn is one of the most self-aware and grounded individuals I’ve ever met. She processes everything quickly, accepting whatever she cannot change and formulating a new plan. She’sadaptable. I don’t want to offend any females out there, but I’ve never met a woman so…rational.

And it’s unnerving. Because that same adaptability is why she isn’t talking to me about whatever the doctor told her and why she went to several appointments since being discharged without telling me. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d think she was developing a taste for blow instead of having multiple blood draws leaving her bruised.

Feeling frustrated and knowing now isn’t the time or place to have it out with her, I shift slightly in my seat, cup her cheeks, delighting in the tiny gasp of surprise right before I claim her lips. She kisses me back, enthusiastically and thoroughly, an active participant leading me to believe she wants me as much as I want her. We break apart, panting, and she smiles as she rests her forehead against mine.

“Hot damn, Mr. Walker. What was that for?”

“Because you’re mine and I can.”

She nods, her smile growing, “I am and you’re welcome to do that anytime.”

“If you two are done giving the rest of the waiting room a PG-13 experience, we’re being paged.” Madison walks past, rolling his eyes at us. Quinn flushes slightly, grips my hand tight and pulls me from the chair. We follow Pres, Betty, Hayes, Stacy, and Keller into another room with a conference table and computer with a large screen.

We take our seats and wait in uncomfortable silence for someone, anyone to update us on our brother. As much I hate the shit he’s spewed, the way he’s treated people, I love him because he’s my club brother. I know some of what’s transpired over the last year or so wasn’t in his control. And I pray that thecyst was removable, and he comes out of this the man he used to be…

“Hello, I’m Dr. Fabian—” The older man in scrubs stops just inside the doorway, his eyes darting to each of us in surprise. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting so many of you. You’re here for Hunter Allen?”

Madison nods, standing with his hand extended. They shake as he reintroduces himself since they met last week and us. “Was the surgery successful?”

“Have a seat.” Dr. Fabian gestures to the table and joins us. “The arachnoid cyst was larger than we anticipated, however, we were able to drain it using fenestration, where the fluid drains directly into the cerebrospinal fluid space and will be flushed out of his body naturally. I do not foresee any issues. To be safe, we will rescan him tomorrow to check progress and again in a couple of weeks. Then a year from now. These cysts rarely recur, but there is always a chance, so we’ll monitor him to be sure. Once discharged, it’s gonna take him up to a month or two to fully recover, even though the incision is small. He might have headaches, trouble concentrating, pain and itching near the site, dizziness, or seizures. Reduced activity, no alcohol or non-prescription medication until we give him the all clear. Do you have any questions?”

“How quickly will he or we notice a difference in his behavior now that the cyst isn’t pressing against his brain?” Quinn asks.

“That depends on the patient. We were in his brain, we irritated it. It’s going to be swollen for a few days, so I’d say give it a week and you might start to notice some changes, hopefully for the better,” he smirks. “Any barbers or hair stylists in your club?”

Stacy raises her hand that’s not holding Hayes’ between them. “I am.”

“I’m afraid you might have your work cutout for you. We had to shave part of his hair to access his scalp. I’m not a barber and don’t pretend to be one.” His practiced joke goes a long way to relax us, which I’m sure is what he intended, and we collectively breathe a sigh of relief. Ford is not out of the woods yet, but he’s much closer, and for that I’m grateful.

Quinn sniffles next to me and I stiffen. I turn my chair to face her, gripping both of her hands in mine. She gives me a watery smile. “Sorry, just happy that he’s on the mend.” Using her shoulders to wipe her tears away, she looks across the table at Betty. “You think the lobbyists are up to playing nurse? He’ll probably need sponge baths.” My shoulders ease as the rigidity in my muscles relaxes. She’s not looking to take care of him, and I know it makes me a bad person, but I don’t think I could handle her nursing him back to health.

Betty and the others laugh, “Oh, I’m sure a few of them are up to the challenge.”

“He’s gonna be a cranky bastard,” Hayes bitches, but he’s grinning.

“Can’t be any worse than he’s been recently.”

“If you don’t have any other questions, I’m gonna head back. Hunter will be in recovery for several hours. Get something to eat, take a nap, go for a ride. The nurse at the desk in the waiting room can take your number and call you when he has a room. He’ll be here for a few days at least.”

“Thank you, Dr. Fabian.” Madison shakes his hand again. The doctor leaves and we sit in silence for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable like it was when we first entered.

Keller slaps his palms on the table and stands up, “Well, I gotta shit, then who’s up for lunch? I’m in the mood for Mexican.”

Madison calls the clubhouse and lets everyone there know about the surgery. A bunch of them want to meet for lunch, so we agree to meet at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Quinn settles behind me on my bike and we ride behind the others, her body flush to mine, her happy squeals in my ear through the Bluetooth. Lunch is a loud affair. 15 brothers and significant others, including Chastity and Langley.

Quinn dips a chip in queso and holds it up to my mouth. I open wide, accept her offering. Then I bring her hand to my mouth and suck the cheese from her fingertips. We turn our heads to watch Buck and his mom Betty go at it for a moment, then look at each other with goofy grins.

“I love this family,” Quinn says softly. Before I can respond, she says, “And I love that I’m a part of it…with you.”

“Me too, darlin’.”

Towards the end of lunch, Madison gets a call with Ford’s room number. Quinn insists that we go back to the hospital with Madison and Betty. We check in at the nurse’s station on his floor.

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