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“Is she okay?” I wasn’t the one to ask. Jolie was.
“Mr. Cole, sit down, please,” Feebee continued, wheeling a little closer.
Ollie guided me into a chair, which he pulled out for me. He stood behind me, a hand draped over my shoulder, down onto my rapidly expanding chest.
Novaletti stepped through the door, clicking it shut behind him. As always, he was dressed differently from the other docs, in an impeccable, fancy suit.
His finger moved along his touchscreen keypad, and the robotic voice from the speaker on his lapel said, “Morning, Remington.”
“What are you doing here? You weren’t in earlier. I came looking for you.”
His finger glided over the screen again. “Dr. Parker called me. He and his colleagues still couldn’t reach Rodregez, and there were some complications last night.”
“Tell me she’s alive.” I stood, the chair falling over as I did. I needed to know that before this conversation went further.
“I’m sorry, Remington. Catharina is currently being kept alive by machines.”
I fell backward, but the chair wasn’t there to catch me. Ollie was—the perfect big brother. His hands moved up and down on my arms. It didn’t stop me trembling. I shook my head, and my entire body followed suit.
“No…” I couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe it. “She’s strong. She’s been through so much. She...” I trailed off when heartbreak altered my voice.
I turned into Ollie, clutching the clothing that didn’t feel like it belonged to him.
“This can’t be happening. Ollie, this can’t be happening.” I gripped him impossibly tighter, not caring that my entire family witnessed me fall apart as my knees weakened.
Strong arms held me up. His hand cradled my head as my heart splintered into the tiniest pieces, and I sobbed.
“What happened? She was breathing,” Dec’s voice stuttered as he tried to fight the tears.
“She suffered a major heart attack around an hour ago,” Novaletti explained. “The central valve has collapsed, and the left side is permanently damaged.”
“There’s no fix? No way to save her, even with the damage? Stents or something?” Dec continued senselessly because we all knew the answer.
I pushed off from Ollie, narrowly avoiding Feebee as I vomited all over the floor—too many cups of coffee pumped from me. My hands on my knees steadied me as I struggled with the robotic voice as Novaletti replied.
“Can one of you repeat what he’s saying?” Why did I even want to know. It was game fucking over.
“Nothing short of a heart transplant,” Feebee spoke loud and clear.
“Do it!” I rushed to my height, almost vomiting again. “Do it.”
“We don’t have a donor.”
“I’ll do it.”
“You will not.” Ollie’s words were sharp and cut me like glass.
“Am I really worthy of living more than her? I don’t fucking think so. I’ll do it.” I turned back to Novaletti with firm instructions. “Get her ready.”
Those firm instructions were dismissed instantly by the doctor in the room. “No.”
Conveniently enough, I heard that. “What do you mean, no?”
“No, I won’t be performing a transplant with your heart.”
“Then have one of the fucking teens to do it.”
“They aren’t able to perform the surgery at all. They are not heart surgeons and wouldn’t have the confidence to do it, even if they were.”
