Chapter 128

“You can’t spend the night in the hospital again, Mr. Bon Jovi. You won’t help her if I have to put you in the bed next to her because of dehydration.”

“I’m drinking,” he said in a tired voice.

Was that Jon? Tessa tried to turn to him, but her head felt heavy and her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. She felt his hand wrapping around hers, but she couldn’t seem to squeeze back. What was wrong with her? Had there been an accident?

She tried to take a deep breath in, but the constant flow of air pushing up her nose made her mouth dry and her throat close up. Why couldn’t she move?

“Jon…” she heard a nurse’s tired voice try to reason with him. “Coffee doesn’t count. It’s nothing but a stimulant. Can I at least get you a bottle of water?”

“Just the coffee, Marcy. When she wakes up, then I’ll be able to rest.”

Why couldn’t she wake up? Distantly she felt his fingers wrap around hers and his thumb stroke her palm. Was she sick? She couldn’t remember anything since…She tried to hold onto the glimmer of thought but it faded away like a dream in the morning. She willed herself to squeeze back, to show him that she was there, but…his voice went tinny and soft. Why couldn’t she focus?

Doctors came and went. She could hear new voices, could feel them moving around her. Felt Jon’s touch, and more importantly felt the loss when he let go. Don’t go. She wanted to reach for him, to call to him. God, she was tired. Maybe she’d just rest for a little while. Maybe when she woke up, he’d be there again.

~

Jon gripped the hair at the back of his head, hoping a bit of pain would snap him out of the sluggish fog he was slipping into. Each time he closed his eyes at her side, he saw her twisted and bleeding, the blood leaking out of her in a rush. Not able to stop it, not even able to touch her.

“Hey Jonny.”

He turned, to find Richie there in the doorway. She’d been moved up to a private room. She was still being monitored, but the ICU was running out of beds. Dr. Esser assured him that the monitoring would be just as diligent and so far, the nurses had been even more attentive.

He sort of figured it was just so they could see him, based on the number of different nurses coming through, but he didn’t care. As long as she was cared for, they could sit on his damn lap for a picture. “Hey, Rich.”

“Why don’t you head to the house, man. You could use a shower and a shave at the very least.”

“You’ve seen me far riper, my friend.”

A grin kicked up the corner of Richie’s mouth. “Yes, but has Tessa?”

“The polish had to come off sometime.”

Richie moved to her bedside and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hiya doin’ gorgeous? I think it’s time to wake up, there darlin’, we’re worried about you.”

Jon’s gaze lifted to the ceiling tiles, there weren’t any tears left but the burning seemed to sizzle in his tear ducts. He’d left only for doctor visits when they threatened to toss him from the hospital and even then it was only to the cafeteria or to the chapel. He’d threatened, pleaded and sworn at God all in the space of thirty-eight hours.

Richie grasped her hand for a moment before turning back to him. “I called the rest of the guys.”

“Ahh, Rich—“

“Don’t give me that, we want to be here for you. I think you should call Dot and let her know what’s going on.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Dorothea and her legion of questions. How could he tell the kids? Hell, how was he supposed to tell his parents? None of it was anyone’s business but he and Tessa’s, but at the same time there was almost no way to not talk about it based on her condition.

Frustration and rage solidified until he was blind with it. His arm swept the tray next to her, the little pink pitcher crashed against the chair, bounced and spun across the floor. Ice and water rained down on him. “I can’t do this!”

He stared down at her, the IV and the machines branching off of her like a macabre tree. There in the center of it was Tessa. His Tessa. “Wake up, please!” He shouted down at her. “Move! Something…let me know you’re in there!”

Richie pulled him back. “Jon, stop.”

He yanked his arm away. “No! I’m not leaving here or shutting up until she wakes up.”

Richie clamped his hand down on his shoulder until pain flared. “And get yourself thrown out of here for throwing a temper tantrum? Pull it the fuck together!” He whispered furiously.

Jon sucked in a breath, chest heaving in response to the adrenaline and exhaustion. All night in the studio and another day and a half in the hospital, he was nearing the edge and fast. “I—“

Richie squeezed harder. “She needs you right now. She needs you to be the strong one when she wakes up and has to face the truth.”

“I can’t even face it!” He met Richie’s solemn brown eyes. He could see the pain there in his friend’s eyes. Pain for him, pain for Tessa and he could barely look at him. How the hell could he tell Tessa that his baby had torn her apart? That their baby was gone?

“You can and you will,” Richie said with absolute faith. He tugged a rosary from beneath his shirt and over his head, wrapping it around Jon’s wrist. “It’s my Mom’s. A lot of prayers and a lot of faith lie in those beads. She prayed to them for every screw up I’ve put my family through and it got me through.”

The flowing warmth of the worry worn beads gathered into his palm. He hadn’t been much of a praying man over the last few years. Meeting Richie’s eyes, he nodded, words choking him even now.

Richie folded both hands over the rosary and Jon’s hand. “We’ll take everything we can get, bro.” He backed off, reaching down for the pitcher before heading to the nurse’s station for a refill.

Jon dragged the uncomfortable little chair back by her side and lifted her hand. “I’m beggin’ here, Tess. Please open those beautiful eyes and let me know you’re coming back to me.”

Wrapping the rosary around her wrist and his until they were bound he pulled the old boyhood prayers out of the depths of his brain. He barely heard Richie come back in, nor the doctors and nurses that came and went. He focused on one Hail Mary after another until the monotony calmed him.

He pressed his forehead into the bed, exhaustion sucking at him until the words of the prayer drifted off. The soothing motion of fingers in his hair helped him along. If he could just find a few minutes of rest he’d be here when she…

Fingers…his head snapped up. She was…he blinked his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing what he wanted to see. Spring green eyes stared back at him, groggy and unfocused, heavy lidded and filled with pain.

“I could hear you,” she said roughly. “You stubborn man.”

“Oh God, Tessa!” Her eyes started to close again. “No, not yet. Baby, please, not yet.”

She opened them again, but he could see it was an effort. A tear slid down her temple. “I hurt,” she whispered.

“I know, baby.” His hands wrapped around hers as he leaned in. “I’ll get the doctor.” He stood, but settled back when her hand gripped his.

“No, don’t go. What happened?”

Panic and uncertainty clawed up from his gut. “Just rest, Tessa.”

Her lids drooped once more. “Tell me later, kay? I can’t stay awake…” her words trailed off, but her grip was still fierce.

He leaned over and pressed the nursing call button and waited. For the first time, he wanted time to stop. He didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t want to see the loss in her eyes.