Diving Into Him (16 page)

The crackle of a guitar drifted in and out of her hearing. A smile curved her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open. Bright light lasered into her vision. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes. On the intercom, a nurse paged some doctor to the emergency room. Blinking, Jett rolled onto her side. Koty sat in a chair next to her bed, laced fingers pressed to his face.

“Hey there, handsome,” she said.

Grieving eyes gazed back at her.

“Jeez, lighten up. It’s not like I’m gonna die.” She smiled, hoping to coax a grin out of him. He only watched her, emotion swimming in those eyes. The smile dropped from her own lips. “Ask me how good that ultrasound felt.”

“That bad?” He straightened and scooted closer.

Jett snorted. “You have no idea. Took my attitude down a couple pegs.” She smiled again.

He ran a hand over the stubble on his face.

“Koty,” she began.

Dr. Santacroce popped through the curtains. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this.” His face darkened. “It is indeed an ectopic pregnancy.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Surgery is usually pretty invasive. Everything else looked good, so rather than going in laparoscopically, I want to try shrinking the ectopic tissue with methotrexate first.” His words came faster and faster. “But it’s up to you. If you’d rather have the surgery, I understand. You’re young. You’d heal fast.”

Her eyes zipped back and forth across his face as his words sank in. She lifted her hands. “Can’t we just, like, save it—the embryo?” She swallowed hard. She refused to call it anything else.

The doctor looked away.

She reached for him with both hands, sitting up slightly. “There’s gotta be a way.”

“I’m sorry.” Dr. Santacroce sighed. “If we don’t remove the tissue, your fallopian tube
will
rupture. It could prevent you from having children in the future. It could kill you.”

She gaped at him. Her hands fell into her lap, fingers lap.

“I’ll give you some time to think it over.” He turned to go, then spun on his heels. “Time is of the essence, Ms. Costa.” Giving her a final nod, he left the IC room.

Her mind reeled. Her limbs felt numb. Either the medication was wearing off, or she was in shock. She stared at the curtains that the doctor disappeared through. Slowly, she turned to look at Koty. She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

His eyes bulged. He held up his hands. “Whoa. I don’t know, either. Why are you asking
me
?” He jumped up from his seat. Pacing the floor, he tugged at his hair. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Of
course
it matters!” She stared at him. “It’s your baby, too.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to call it that. Her eyes widened.

Koty froze. His chest rose and fell, the only sign that he was still breathing.

Her eyebrows knit together. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. “Koty?”

Turning around, he faced her. The skin on his face was as white as a sheet of paper. “Are you sure?”

Her forehead creased. “What do you mean? Of course I’m sure.”

He took a step toward her. Fingers gripping the guardrail, he leaned toward her. “How do you know?”

Lips parting, she put one of her hands on top of his. “I
told
you.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I never slept with Tyler.”

He slumped into the chair next to her. “Wow,” he breathed.

“I know, right? Plot twist.” A wry smile twisted her lips. If things were different, she would throw an “I
told
you” at him. Instead, she raked her fingers through her hair. “What do I do?”

Koty buried his face in his hands. His shoulders lifted up and then fell. “It’s your body. It’s your choice.”

“You sound like a fucking PSA for women’s rights.” She reached through the space between them and yanked his hands away from his face. “I’m asking you. What do I
do
?” Panic tinged her voice. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

His eyes met hers. Fingers twining with hers, he rose. “Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back.”

She stifled the scream in her throat. The one time she needed him to push back, he was just going to lie down and let whatever happen. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose. She needed to get herself together. Screaming at him wouldn’t help the situation. Pressing her lips together, she opened her eyes. She needed to tell him exactly how she was feeling, she realized with a sigh. “I’m scared.” The words sounded stiff. She swallowed hard. She tried again. She forced her eyes to meet his. “It’s not like I want to have a baby. I wanna make music. But it didn’t have to happen like this.”

Nodding, he squeezed her hand. “Okay. Let’s look at your options.”

She slanted a glare at him. “
Our
options.”

He held up his free hand. “Easy, killer.”

Chewing on her lip, she looked at the curtain again. “I don’t have insurance,” she admitted. “The metho-whatever will probably be cheaper.”

Koty shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.” His fingers squeezed hers, the warmth from his skin enveloping her.

She swallowed hard, shoving down the lump in her throat. All he had ever tried to do was take care of her, she realized. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. All she had ever done was push him away. Just by looking into his eyes, she could tell that the damage ran deep. He probably felt responsible and, when it was all over, they would be right back where they were before she got sick. Her lips parted. She pressed them together. After all the songs she had written, she was at a loss for words. She squeezed his hand back, sighing.

The curtains parted. Dr. Santacroce eased inside her little room. “I hate to pressure you,” he said with a grimace, “but the clock is ticking. We’ve gotta move forward.”

Stiff lashes scraped Jett’s face as she blinked up at the doctor. Under her gaze, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted from foot to foot. She sucked in a deep breath, the knife in her abdomen twisting as she inhaled. Both the doctor and Koty looked at her. She squirmed. Making decisions had never been so hard for her. Poking her tongue at the inside of her cheek, she wondered again if things would be different if her mother was still alive. Perhaps Jett would be more maternal, she mused. From underneath her lashes, she peeked at Koty. Dark circles had blossomed under his eyes, and grief settled in his irises like pinpricks. The ache in her chest was more for him than herself, she realized.

Shoulders sagging, she turned to look at the doctor. “What happens if I have the surgery?” The words whispered from inside of her. Fingers curling into fists, she wished that there was an alternative. Maybe she would be a terrible mother, but Koty would probably be a decent father. He certainly seemed to want the chance.

She wanted to laugh at herself. There had never been any doubt in her mind, no question of her future. Her family consisted of guitar strings and drummers who smoked too much marijuana. The wee hours of her mornings were consumed by songs on loop while she tried to detect what was off in the arrangement. It had never occurred to her that any other option existed.

“Recovery can be pretty uncomfortable,” Dr. Santacroce said. “And there’s no guarantee that we’ll get all of the ectopic tissue. It
is
a good way to assess exactly how much damage, if any, has been done to the fallopian tube.”

She twisted the ring on her thumb. “And if there is any damage?”

“The risk of partial or complete infertility is very high.” The doctor rocked back on his heels, his lips pressed together.

Jett glanced at Koty out of the corner of her eye. Body tense, he sucked in his cheeks. Turmoil creased the usually smooth plane of his forehead. She looked back at the doctor. “Any way to, um, avoid that?” Heat flushed her cheeks and the back of her neck. She tried to tell herself that it was a symptom of the ectopic pregnancy, that it was just fever. She dared not go down the path that enticed her thoughts, but she still needed to know.
I’m just being thorough
, she thought, swallowing hard.

Dr. Santacroce tapped his chin. “I could give you a dose of methotrexate immediately after, to make absolutely sure.”

“You’re going to do my surgery?” Jett straightened.

The doctor cleared his throat and held up his hands, palms out. “Well, not me. I’m a general surgeon. Usually this type of case goes upstairs to obstetrics.” He stroked his beard. “I mean, I suppose if a patient insisted on me doing the procedure, they would honor your request.” He shrugged.

“I insist.” Jett lifted her chin. “You seem like the type who doesn’t fuck around.”

Koty lifted a hand. “Wait.” He slanted a look at the other man. Dr. Santacroce lifted his shoulders. Koty’s eyes met Jett’s. “Don’t you think that a specialist would be safer?” He kept his voice low.

Jett lifted her eyebrows. “Doctor, how many years of surgical experience does the guy upstairs have?”

Dr. Santacroce chuckled. “Listen, let’s not mince words. The surgeons in obstetrics are very capable.”

Jerked a thumb toward the doctor, Jett narrowed her eyes at Koty. “I wanna keep him.”

Sighing, Koty stepped away. He lifted his hands in defeat. “Okay. It’s your call.”

“Duh.” Jett rolled her eyes. “What do I have to sign?” She folded her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers together in an effort to steady her galloping heart. Behind her right eye, a blood vessel throbbed in time to her pulse.

“I’ll have them draw up your admissions paperwork.” Dr. Santacroce reached for her hand. After a brief squeeze, he hurried out of the room.

Koty paced the small area, face growing more drawn with every completed circuit.

“Jackson,” she said, scooting closer to him. He stopped. His head snapped up and he turned to look at her with wide eyes, red as if from the strain of imprisoned tears. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

He gaped at her. “You’re not already nervous?”

A nurse that she did not recognize slipped into the room and handed her several sheets of paper and a pen. She pointed at the lines that Jett needed to sign. Using the moment as an excuse to not answer Koty, Jett scrawled her name. She spent so much time signing everything as Jett the rock star that she could barely remember how to form her official, legal signature.

Behind the nurse, another orderly moved into the room. “I’m gonna take you over to surgery.” He smiled.

With so many people in the room, it felt even smaller. Jett nodded, afraid to speak. She dropped her eyes and let her hands rest in her lap. Koty kept pace beside her as the orderly pushed her out of the emergency department.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he said.

Her eyes flicked to his. She wrapped her fingers around the bars of the guardrail, knuckles turning white. The walls sped past her, faster than when she had gone to ultrasound.

“Oh, you can stay with her up until they take her back,” the orderly said. “There’s a waiting room there, too.”

Koty’s shoulders dropped an inch and he stood a little taller. He stepped to the side a little while the orderly maneuvered Jett’s gurney into an elevator. Machinery hummed and her stomach dropped as the elevator moved. She stared up at the florescent lighting, avoiding looking at Koty. She felt his eyes boring into her face.

The second the elevator doors opened, the orderly wheeled her down a hall and into a brightly lit room. Nurses wearing different scrubs from the ones in the emergency room hovered over her, taking vitals and checking her IV. One of them mumbled something about anesthesia. Jett forced herself to take long, deep breaths and closed her eyes as they did their thing. Closing her eyes, she moved her thoughts to her days in rehab, the long afternoons in the yoga and meditation room. Those days seemed ages ago, when it hadn’t even been a year.

Her lips quirked into a smile. Ever since the night her father called her, she hadn’t wanted a drink. Maybe she was making progress, after all.

As the nurses stepped away, someone handed her more forms to sign. Hand shaking, she looped her name onto the page.

A nurse touched her shoulder. “Are you feeling anxious?”

Jett started to say that she didn’t get nervous, that she played in front of thousands of people for a living. Instead, she nodded.

“We can give you something for that.” The nurse reached for a computer on wheels and tapped several keys.

Forcing a smile, Jett craned her neck. The bed rolled away. Twisting around, she gaped at the man moving her. A hair net sat crookedly on his head. He gave her a smile. “Wait,” she said, turning again. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for Koty. The assistant made no move to stop. She had time to catch the worried expression on Koty’s face, and then she rolled out of view from him completely.

Slumping back, she exhaled. It wasn’t as if she needed to confess her undying love. Neither of them was dying—she hoped. Still, she wished that things would slow down, even a little. She tried not to pay attention as she rolled into the operating room.

Dr. Santacroce lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers in a wave. “We meet again.” He wore different scrubs and an operating gown. “Are you all right, kiddo?”

She gave him a tiny nod.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” He smiled. “Okay, so here’s how this is gonna go.” As he launched into the explanation, an anesthesiologist checked her IV again. She let her thoughts drift away. It didn’t really matter how the procedure was done. There wasn’t going to be a quiz after. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to relax. To her surprise, she began feeling more calm almost instantly. She lifted an eyebrow at the anesthesiologist.

“Diazepam,” he said with a wink. He injected something else into her IV. She assumed that it was the stuff that was supposed to knock her out. She took a deep breath. She could do this. It was only surgery.

“Count back from one hundred for me, okay?” Dr. Santacroce squeezed her hand. “I’ve got you.”

With a nod, she looked up at the lights. “A hundred. Ninety-nine.” The numbers rolled off her lips easily. She expected to feel weird, or sleepy. Frowning, she kept counting down. The room came into blurry focus. Blinking, she tried to sit up. Hands on her shoulders pinned her down. She glanced around the room, forehead creasing. It was a lot bigger than the operating room, and several other beds lined the walls.

“You’re okay.” The nurse released her shoulders. “You’re in recovery.” She fiddled with the IV, and a moment later, calm washed over Jett.

“That was fast.” Her words sounded mumbled, as if she had too much to drink. Her frown deepened.

The nurse patted her hand. Then she turned around and reached for her computer on wheels. Fingers gripped a mouse and she scrolled and clicked away.

Jett let herself melt into the bed. A pillow supported her head and neck. It was about time. She hadn’t seen a single pillow in the emergency department. She wondered if people tried to throw them at the staff or steal them.

Eyes roaming the room, she looked at the empty beds next to and across from her. She swallowed hard. Her throat felt like sandpaper. No tray occupied the space next to the bed. She looked at the nurse. The woman continued filling out charts on the computer. Jett cleared her throat.

The nurse turned around, an eyebrow raised.

“Can I have some water?” Jett frowned. The words that came out of her mouth were still nothing like what she wanted to say. She cleared her throat and mimed lifting a cup to her lips.

The nurse mouthed an “Ah,” then walked over to the counter. She filled a small styrofoam cup with water and grabbed a large pink swab. Dipping the swab into the cup, she held it out to Jett.

Drawing her eyebrows together, Jett took the swab and put it in her mouth as if it were a lollipop.

“
Nice
.”

Jett turned to look at the door. Koty sauntered toward her bed. “What?” With the swab in her mouth and the anesthesia still clinging to her, the word hardly sounded like English.

Color spread across his cheeks. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Bad joke.”

She blinked at him. “Have you been spending too much time with Perry?”

Koty stopped at the side of her bed. His fingers brushed her sheets. “I don’t need to spend time with Perry to be dirty.” Blue eyes burned into hers. As if watching a movie of their relationship, her mind flashed to the time when they had practically had sex on the brick facade of a building.

Heat flushed her face. That was when Perpetual Smile was still together, back when they had to sneak around to avoid her other band mates. She cleared her throat, wishing that the nurse had just given her the cup of water.

Warm fingers twined with hers. Leaning down, Koty pressed soft lips to her forehead. Her heart did a somersault. “Glad you’re okay,” he whispered. Straightening, he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

She strained to think of something sarcastic to say, something to lighten the mood. She had spent the last year pushing him away with witty remarks. Maybe it was time she tried honesty. “Glad you’re still here.” She squeezed his hand.

Koty blinked. For a second, she thought she saw tears pooling in his eyes. A moment later, though, his face was unreadable. She quirked an eyebrow. Usually, stoicism was
her
game.

As she tried to think of something other than her surgery to talk about, Dr. Santacroce bustled into the room. Both of her eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected to see him until much later, maybe even the next morning.

Koty’s fingers untwined from hers. “Gotta go use the bathroom.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and slouched away before she could ask him to wait.

She frowned up at the doctor. “Give it to me straight.” She plucked at the edge seam of the sheet.

Dr. Santacroce sighed. “Well, we were able to remove all of the ectopic tissue.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I had an obstetrician on call just in case, but I didn’t need him. We didn’t end up giving you any methotrexate, either.” His shoulders slumped. “There was a lot of damage to your fallopian tube, so I had to remove it.” Crow’s feet hugged his eyes as he met hers.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” She sat up on her elbows. Dull pain rippled through her lower abdomen. Sooner than later, she was going to have to ask for medication.

The doctor nodded. “You may be infertile now. It’s hard to say. You may still be able to get pregnant. You won’t know for sure until you follow up with your OB-GYN, though.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll have them give you more dilaudid before they bring you to your room. I’ll see you first thing in the morning to check on how you’re healing, okay?”

Giving him a salute, she watched as he ambled out of the recovery room. Fatigue tugged at her. She settled back into the pillows again, wondering how long before someone brought her upstairs. It would be nice to grab a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Her nurse turned away from the computer on wheels and slipped out of the room. Jett let her eyelids grow heavier. As she began to sink down, she felt a warm rush through her veins. She opened her eyes. The nurse stood next to her, pushing something through her IV—the dilaudid. The pain slipped away, and exhaustion rolled over her completely. She fell into a dark, warm slumber.

When she woke up, she faced a wall with a television mounted to it.

“Welcome back,” Koty said.

She glanced at him. He sat in a chair next to her bed. A monitor beeped steadily. She couldn’t remember being moved or hooked up to anything. “How long have I been out?”

He rubbed at the stubble on his face. “Maybe an hour.” Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees. “How are you feeling?”

She thought about it. No pain occupied her lower abdomen for the time being. Stretching her arms, she reached toward the ceiling above her head. “Tired.” A yawn drowned out the word. “You?” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.