Chapter 160 Jaxon's outcome
Sage's POV
The doctor's face was grave but not hopeless, and I clung to that distinction like a lifeline.
"Ms. Romano," he said, his voice tired but steady. "Your brother survived the surgery."
Relief hit me so hard that my knees gave out. I felt myself falling, but Diego caught me before I hit the floor. His arm went around my waist and he held me up while I tried to remember how to breathe.
"Thank you," I gasped out, though I was not sure if I was talking to the doctor or to Diego or to God. "Thank you."
Elena appeared beside me, her hand on my shoulder, steady and strong. But it was Diego who kept me from collapsing completely, his grip firm and supportive.
The doctor continued speaking. "The damage was extensive. The bullet caused significant internal bleeding and we had to repair damage to his liver and intestines. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilize him."
"He's going to be okay?" I asked, needing to hear it clearly.
"He's alive," the doctor said carefully. "But recovery will be long and uncertain. The next forty-eight hours are critical. We'll be monitoring him closely in the ICU."
"Can I see him?"
The doctor nodded. "For a few minutes. He's still unconscious from the anesthesia and his near death experience, but you can sit with him."
He led me through the surgical suite doors and down a hallway to the intensive care unit. Diego stayed close behind me, and I was grateful for his presence even though all I wanted was to see Jaxon.
They had my brother in a private room surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed. He was still very pale looking, his face slack and peaceful in a way that terrified me because it looked too much like the stillness that came before someone stopped breathing.
Tubes ran from his arms and chest. Monitors tracked what I understood to be his heart rate and oxygen levels. A number of IV drips were attached to monitors that allowed fluid into his veins from a central line.
I moved to his bedside and took his hand carefully, afraid I might hurt him somehow. His skin was cold.
"Jaxon," I whispered. "I'm here. You're going to be okay. You have to be okay."
He did not respond. He did not even twitch.
"You can't leave me," I continued, my voice breaking. "I already lost Dad. I can't lose you too. Please, Jaxon. Please don't leave me."
A nurse touched my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, but we need to let him rest. The ICU doesn't let relatives spend too much time in the rooms to reduce chances of infections and sepsis. You can come back during visiting hours."
I did not want to leave. I didnt want to let go of his hand. But Diego was there, his hand on my back, guiding me out of the room.
"He needs to rest," Diego said quietly. "And so do you."
We went back to the waiting room. Elena had another coffee ready for me, and I took it without really seeing it.
I glanced toward the doorway, half expecting to see Ryder finally appear. Surely someone had told him by now that Jaxon was out of surgery. Surely he would come to check on us.
But the doorway stayed empty.
"Has anyone seen Ryder?" I asked.
Diego and Elena exchanged a look.
"I haven't seen him," Diego said carefully. "I can send someone to find him if you want."
I shook my head. "No. If he wanted to be here, he would be."
The words hurt more than I expected them to.
Diego did not argue. He just nodded and sat down beside me, solid and dependable and there.
The first day passed in a blur of waiting room coffee and nurse updates. Jaxon remained stable but unconscious. The doctors said that was normal, that his body needed time to heal.
Diego brought me food from the hospital cafeteria and made sure I ate at least a few bites. Elena handled the police and the federal agents who kept showing up with questions. I gave statements in a monotone voice, answering their questions without really processing what I was saying.
Ryder did not call, did not text. Did not send any message through the brothers who stopped by to check on Jaxon.
The second day was the same. I split my time between the waiting room and Jaxon's ICU room during the brief visiting hours they allowed. He looked a little less pale but still had not woken up.
Diego stayed with me the entire time. He brought me clean clothes that Elena had mostly bought because the house was still a mess. Diego made sure I had coffee and food. He sat beside me in silence when I needed quiet and talked about inconsequential things when the silence became too heavy.
Still, there was nothing from Ryder.
On the third day, Jaxon's eyes fluttered open for a few minutes. He was too weak to talk and too drugged to make much sense, but he squeezed my hand a little when I spoke to him. The doctors said it was a good sign.
I stepped out of his room feeling lighter than I had in days, and the first thing I did was pull out my phone to check for messages from Ryder.
Nothing. Not a single text or missed call.
Three days. Seventy-two hours since the shooting. And I had not heard a single word from the man who said he loved me.
Diego was waiting in the hallway. He took one look at my face and knew what I was thinking.
"Still nothing?" he asked gently.
I shook my head, unable to trust my voice.
"I am sure he is dealing with his own situation," Diego offered. "Tommy was wounded too."
"I know." I did know that. I understood it, logically. Tommy was Ryder's only family. Of course Ryder was focused on him.
But understanding did not make the silence hurt any less.
Diego put his hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to find him? To tell him about Jaxon?"
"No." I put my phone away. "If he wanted to know, he would ask."
We walked back to the waiting room together. Elena was there, coordinating something on her phone. She looked up when we entered and gave me a small smile.
"Jaxon is doing better?" she asked.
"He woke up for a few minutes," I said. "The doctors say he's going to make it."
"That is good news." Elena stood and hugged me briefly. "You should rest. You look exhausted."
She was right. I had not really slept since the night of the shooting. I just dozed in waiting room chairs and paced hospital hallways.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jaxon bleeding on the porch. Or Ryder's face as our ambulances pulled apart. Or Dante standing at the wedding arch.
Diego offered to get me a hotel room but I refused. I did not want to be that far from Jaxon in case something went wrong.
So I stayed in the waiting room, drinking cold coffee and watching the hallway for someone who never appeared.
Other Steel Wolves brothers came to visit. They asked about Jaxon and told me Diesel was handling everything. They mentioned that Ryder had been made acting president while Jaxon recovered.
"How's Tommy doing?" I asked one of them.
"Good. Getting better every day. Ryder hasn't left his side."
The brother didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that. And maybe there was not. Maybe I was being unreasonable to expect Ryder to split his time between his injured brother and checking on us.
But the silence still felt like a choice. A choice about what mattered most to him.
Three days. And I had not heard a single word from Ryder, not a call, not a text, not even a message passed through the brothers.
And I realized he had made his choice about what matters most to him.