Read Online Jack Who? (Silver Strings G Series) by Lisa Gillis - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Gillis
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had been instinctual, something that, if she had given even a second of thought, she would not have done.
“There is a comfortable area where you will be closer until he wakes.” Extending the explanation, the nurse filled the silent gap.
“Can I see him right away?” Marissa begged, stepping aside enough for the man with the rolled up Herald in his hand to exit onto his selected floor.
“For just a few minutes.” Gently and concisely, the ICU rules were explained, and when Jack asked a question, the CRNA repeated the full brief on the allergic reaction.
Jack seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he looked at Marissa and remained quiet. The tone announced their level, and they stepped out into the hall of the new floor. Once again, when her phone buzzed in her pocket, she ignored it, and in less than a minute, she was standing at the foot of Tristan’s bed.
Hyperventilation threatened her own breathing as she beheld the ventilation tubes, the IV tubes, and various machine paraphernalia around her boy’s bed. Dark hair strands were a contrast against the crisp, white pillow– a pillow that was half his size or more.
In a flash, Marissa edged around the bed, and her fingers softly settled on his hot forehead then brushed at his soft hair. His breathing was slow and even as if he was napping, but the hiss of the oxygen flowing into the tube attachment beneath his nose wheezed over the sound of his breath.
Leaning and crouching to his level, she whispered her love and just crazy nonsense to keep talking. “Tiggy is looking out the window in your room, and guess what? He found a friend here. Wait till you see his new friend...”
For the last couple of minutes, she had completely forgotten Jack, but as she spoke of the new stuffed toy, Bandit, the image of him placing it beside Tiggy on the window ledge replayed in her mind.
Twisting her head, she found Jack frozen at the foot of the bed. Those dark eyes, that she could stare into forever, remained trained on Tristan, and the unguarded look took her breath away. So many vulnerable expressions played in their brown depths, creating a mixture that left her guessing as to what she was seeing.
Only one thing was certain. Recognition and acknowledgment of his own flesh and blood.
Feeling her assessment, his gaze skittered to hers, and his shields went up. For a second or two, there was nothing to see and then empathy lit the dark depths of his gaze as it roved her face.
A nurse appeared, checking vitals, and with a heartening lilt in her voice related that the numbers she recorded were all good. However, her next words were firm. “Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting area, and they will let you know as soon as he wakes.”
“Can I just stand here? I won’t get in the way...” Unwilling to take even a step away from the bed, Marissa pleaded the request.
“I’m sorry. You can’t hon. You will be right outside though. Any changes, anything at all, and we will update you right away.”
The rooms all circled a station where medical staff buzzed like bees around a hive. Tristan’s physician was among them, and upon seeing her, he handed off a chart to another professional and beelined her way.
Their way. Mentally, she corrected her singular thinking when after greeting her, the doctor’s speculative gaze shifted to Jack.
Putting his hand out, the surgeon made his introduction. “Hello, I’m Dr. Millosky. You must be Tristan’s father.”
Now, after seeing Tristan, Jack must know how obvious his relation was to everyone. Politely accepting the extended hand, Jack replied simply, without denial or confirmation, smoothly omitting his surname as he introduced himself, “Good to meet you. Jack.”
The surgery itself, as the nurse had said, and the surgeon now confirmed, went well. The surgeon explained that he accomplished what he set out to do. With therapy, Tristan would be walking crutch free within several weeks. The doctor also
“There is a comfortable area where you will be closer until he wakes.” Extending the explanation, the nurse filled the silent gap.
“Can I see him right away?” Marissa begged, stepping aside enough for the man with the rolled up Herald in his hand to exit onto his selected floor.
“For just a few minutes.” Gently and concisely, the ICU rules were explained, and when Jack asked a question, the CRNA repeated the full brief on the allergic reaction.
Jack seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he looked at Marissa and remained quiet. The tone announced their level, and they stepped out into the hall of the new floor. Once again, when her phone buzzed in her pocket, she ignored it, and in less than a minute, she was standing at the foot of Tristan’s bed.
Hyperventilation threatened her own breathing as she beheld the ventilation tubes, the IV tubes, and various machine paraphernalia around her boy’s bed. Dark hair strands were a contrast against the crisp, white pillow– a pillow that was half his size or more.
In a flash, Marissa edged around the bed, and her fingers softly settled on his hot forehead then brushed at his soft hair. His breathing was slow and even as if he was napping, but the hiss of the oxygen flowing into the tube attachment beneath his nose wheezed over the sound of his breath.
Leaning and crouching to his level, she whispered her love and just crazy nonsense to keep talking. “Tiggy is looking out the window in your room, and guess what? He found a friend here. Wait till you see his new friend...”
For the last couple of minutes, she had completely forgotten Jack, but as she spoke of the new stuffed toy, Bandit, the image of him placing it beside Tiggy on the window ledge replayed in her mind.
Twisting her head, she found Jack frozen at the foot of the bed. Those dark eyes, that she could stare into forever, remained trained on Tristan, and the unguarded look took her breath away. So many vulnerable expressions played in their brown depths, creating a mixture that left her guessing as to what she was seeing.
Only one thing was certain. Recognition and acknowledgment of his own flesh and blood.
Feeling her assessment, his gaze skittered to hers, and his shields went up. For a second or two, there was nothing to see and then empathy lit the dark depths of his gaze as it roved her face.
A nurse appeared, checking vitals, and with a heartening lilt in her voice related that the numbers she recorded were all good. However, her next words were firm. “Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting area, and they will let you know as soon as he wakes.”
“Can I just stand here? I won’t get in the way...” Unwilling to take even a step away from the bed, Marissa pleaded the request.
“I’m sorry. You can’t hon. You will be right outside though. Any changes, anything at all, and we will update you right away.”
The rooms all circled a station where medical staff buzzed like bees around a hive. Tristan’s physician was among them, and upon seeing her, he handed off a chart to another professional and beelined her way.
Their way. Mentally, she corrected her singular thinking when after greeting her, the doctor’s speculative gaze shifted to Jack.
Putting his hand out, the surgeon made his introduction. “Hello, I’m Dr. Millosky. You must be Tristan’s father.”
Now, after seeing Tristan, Jack must know how obvious his relation was to everyone. Politely accepting the extended hand, Jack replied simply, without denial or confirmation, smoothly omitting his surname as he introduced himself, “Good to meet you. Jack.”
The surgery itself, as the nurse had said, and the surgeon now confirmed, went well. The surgeon explained that he accomplished what he set out to do. With therapy, Tristan would be walking crutch free within several weeks. The doctor also
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