Our eyes meet for the first time since I rushed in ahead of the paramedics, and I see something pass over Drew’s face. Gratitude? Relief? Whatever it is, he looks glad to see me.
“On the counter by the coffee pot. The Nadalol,” he says.
I nod, give him a bracing smile, and dash out. The medicine bottle is exactly where he said it would be. Right next to the coffee pot, which is full and smells fresh. I hadn’t noticed in my mad dash through the house, but there’s also a pan of biscuits on the stove.
Mrs. Vivian couldn’t have made these. Drew must have.
I fill a glass of water and race back to Mrs. Vivian’s bedroom, but I do it loving Drew Moroux just a little more.
When I return, Mrs. Vivian’s color looks a little better, thanks, I’m sure, to the oxygen. This time I aim for Drew’s side, and as soon as I hand the medicine and water off to the paramedic, I lay a supportive hand on Drew’s back.
He glances down at me, eyes soft.
“They think it’s pneumonia,” he says quietly. “They’re taking her in.”
The female EMT is making adjustments to the stretcher, lowering it even with Mrs. Vivian’s bed before wheeling it around to the side.
“People my age… go to the hospital,” Mrs. Vivian pants, the words muffled by the plastic mask, “and never come out.”
I glance at Drew to see his jaw tighten. “You have to go, Grandma. And I don’t want to hear any more talk about dying.”
His grandmother shrugs, looking petulant. “Might just be my time.”
Under my hand, I feel his back stiffen. “Grandma—”
“You’re a beautiful girl,” Mrs. Vivian says to me, talking over Drew, but pausing to cough dryly behind the mask. “Just right for him...You’ll take good care of him… Knew it the day you met.”
I don’t know what to say to this, but I lean into Drew’s side, and as if by instinct, he clutches me to him.
“Enough of the drama, Grandma,” Drew scolds. His tone may be light, but I don’t miss the fear in it. “Don’t commend me to Evie’s care like you’re settling your affairs.”
The old woman’s eyes smile. “My affairs are already settled, Andrew.”
Drew gives a low grumble of frustration, but Mrs. Vivian just bats a withered hand at him. “Don’t upset yourself.” She coughs again and takes a few gulps of air. “I’ve done everything… I wanted to do… And I don’t plan on that stopping… anytime soon.”
When Drew’s shoulders relax, I feel it down the length of my body. I squeeze him around the middle.
“Good. Aunt Josie, Aunt Shelly, and Annie are going to meet us at the hospital.” He makes it sound like a warning. “And they’re not gonna want to hear any of that talk either.”
“Alright, Mrs. Quincy,” the female paramedic says, reaching across the bed to her. “We’re just going to get you onto the gurney, nice and easy.”
I look up at Drew and whisper, “What can I do?”
His eyes run over me and then narrow as though he’s calculating. “You have class today.”
I do, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. “You have work too, don’t you?”
The corner of his mouth turns up just a little, but regret quickly swallows the grin. “I called my cousin to see if I could come in late. I made breakfast. I wanted to drive you to work.”
My heart thumps a clumsy beat in my chest, and warmth floats like a veil over my skin. This is what it feels like to know Drew’s love.
I swear, there’s nothing better.
But I want him to feel the same from me. I want to give him whatever he needs.
“You need to ride with Mrs. Vivian. My morning’s free. I’ll pack a bag for her and bring it to you at the hospital.”
The way he blinks tells me he hasn’t thought this far. But if Mrs. Vivian has pneumonia — if she’s on oxygen as we speak — she’s not coming home tonight. And the look of dread as Drew comes to this conclusion squeezes my heart.