Chapter 27 — Why Didn't You Tell Me You Were Sick?

Brooke:

Beep...Beep...Beep...

The insistent beeping keeps floating in and out.

I love you. The words drift in and out, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot place the voice. It is like I am lost in a labyrinth, the words echoing off the walls, but each turn I take only brings me farther and farther from the voice.

Beep...Beep...Beep...

I feel warm. Something is enveloping me—not something, someone! They smell good. Like saltwater and the natural perfume of a man. I love you.

Beep...Beep...Beep...

My throat is so dry. And that stupid beeping is still haunting my dreams. I try to lift my eyelids, but they feel so heavy. Then I remember someone had been knocking on the door. Is that what the beeping sound is?

I force my eyes to open. I am not in my cottage room. The ceiling is an ugly off-white rectangle. The lighting is fluorescent, and the annoying beeping fills the room.

I try to sit up and almost scream when a sharp pain radiates from my stomach.

"Brooke?" A warm hand grabs mine. "Don't try to sit up, beagchaithnini sneachta." I look up at the voice in confusion. It is Landon's voice and words. The man looming over me certainly looks like Landon, but my mind cannot comprehend it. I want so desperately to see him that I am imagining him.

"Landon?" I croak out.

"I'm here," he says, and his thumb starts stroking back and forth on my hand. "Let me get you some water and call for a nurse." Hospital. I am in a hospital! Landon is pressing a glass of water to my lips by the time I come to this realization.

The water feels amazing going down, as it moistens my dry throat.

"Not too much," Landon says as I moan in protest when he pulls the cup away. Landon raises my bed up so I am inclined enough to see him.

"What happened? How did I get here? Where is here?" I ask.

"You’re in the Bon Secours Hospital. I brought you here when you collapsed in your...cottage."

Landon pauses after that. I do not know if he is waiting for me to say something or he is just waiting to make sure I am comprehending what he is saying. After a beat of silence, he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows by my legs on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" His question is so soft I thought I heard him wrong.

My heart feels like it is going to pound out of my chest. The beeping on the monitor picks up.

Beep...Beep...Beep.

But then Landon takes my hand again. He gives it a small reassuring squeeze, drawing my gaze to his eyes. His eyes are kind, loving, and forgiving.

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep.

When my heart rate slows again, I take a deep breath before talking. "I was afraid."

Landon's eyebrows rise in confusion. "Why?" he asks. I look away from him, unable to meet his gaze.

"I don't know. I guess... I just..." I pause, and Landon gives my hand another small squeeze. "I didn't want you to look at me differently." Landon's fingers grasp my chin and urge me to look back at him.

"Different how?"

"With pity, sadness. Like I was a disease. I did not want you to want to be my friend out of obligation. I wanted you to want me for me. To know who I am, not my disease."

"Beagchaithnini sneachta, I would never have... The way I feel about you... It wouldn't have been clouded by the knowledge of your disease."

"And how do you feel about me, Landon?"

Landon opens his mouth to answer me when the door opens. "Awe, look who's awake," an extremely tall man in a lab coat says. He looks to be in his late fifties and has an American accent. I look at Landon in confusion.

"I thought we were still in Ireland?" Landon nods.

"We are," he says. I glance between the doctor and Landon.

"But...?"

"Mrs. Campbell, I am Doctor Parker. I specialize in gastroenterology. Specifically, the liver and liver transplants. I have worked for many different hospitals throughout my career but have been most recently working for Campbell and Boland Medical Center." I blink in shock. "Your husband flew me halfway across the world to perform your surgery. I guess he wanted to make sure his wife was getting the best, and trust me, I'm the best." He gives me a cheesy grin, but my mind is still stuck on the thought that Landon and Jared own a hospital.

Then it hit me.

"Surgery? What surgery?" The doctor looks surprised at my question. He looks at Landon, who sits silently beside me. When it is clear that Landon is not going to talk, the doctor continues.

"Two nights ago, you underwent surgery for a liver transplant. I performed the surgery myself, and with a couple more days of monitoring, I think we can say it went very smooth."

"A transplant. How? I wasn't eligible for the transplant list after I stopped treatment." Landon's jaw clenches at my words.

"Yes, but if someone offers to donate to you specifically, you don't have to be put on a list."

"Someone donated their liver to me? Who?" The doctor grins.

"Not their entire liver; only half, Mrs. Campbell. He was, after all, a living donor and had a bit of a need for it himself," the doctor jokes.

With every word the doctor says, Landon becomes tenser and tenser. "Who was my donor?" I direct my question to Landon. He clenches his jaw.

"Arnold Macintosh." He grinds the words out. My breath whooshes out of me. That does not make any sense. Arnold is cruel. He would never donate something so vital as an organ to me.

The doctor continues talking, but I do not hear a word he says. My vitals are taken, and the doctor scribbles some things into his chart. "Brooke? Brooke?" Landon's voice finally pulls me out of my head.

"What?" I ask.

"Doctor Parker asked you a question." I turn my gaze back to the doctor.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" The doctor smiles.

"I understand this is very surreal to you and your family. This must seem like a miracle. It was lucky you had a match. It is not always so easy, especially with distant family. But I am honored to say that if you continue to do as well as you are, you should be able to live a happy, full, normal life. You need to take prescription pills to help prevent organ rejection. The nurse will be in later to start you on your first round of meds and take another set of vitals. We will keep you here for the next week, and you cannot fly for up to three months. This will all be explained in the pamphlet I will leave for you to read through later."

The doctor sets the pamphlet on the table beside my bed, smiles, and then leaves the room. The room is silent for a minute or two before it really hits me. Everything the doctor just said. The transplant, Arnold—all of it means one thing. I look over at Landon.

"I'm not going to die?" I ask him.

Landon's eyes swell with tears. He takes in a deep breath before he reaches out to cup my cheek. "No, beagchaithnini sneachta. You’re not going to die." Tears stream down my face as Landon gets on the bed to hold me as best he can with the IV, and me not being able to move very much. I feel his soft kiss on my hair. I feel my hair becoming damp from his tears as mine stain his shirt.

I am going to live. The thought of the future with Landon and Cahal whirls through my head. But then a nagging thought clouds my thoughts like a plague: What if Landon doesn't want me in his future?