“We’ll get you some morphine. But, Lauren, if we extubate you, the end will come pretty fast,” Dr. Bennett said, and Lauren had to give her credit, because though her eyes were shiny, she wasn’t crying outright. “You’ll have a few hours, maybe less. If we keep you on the ventilator, it’ll be more like a day, maybe three. The choice is yours.”

Well, shit. She’d give anything for another couple of days . . . but being on the ventilator also meant being unconscious. She could die that way, just slip away, pain-free.

Joshua deserved more.

“Your mom, Jen and Darius are in the waiting room,” Josh said. “Sarah’s on her way.”

She pointed to the tube and mimicked pulling it out. “You want us to extubate you?” Dr. Bennett asked, and Lauren nodded, looking into Joshua’s eyes.

I’m sorry.

After a long second, he nodded, too, and then put his hand up to his eyes.

She reached for him, her arm not quite making it, and he caught it, took her hand, kissed it, his lips staying a long time. She felt his tears drop on her skin. She squeezed back, but she was so weak, she wasn’t sure he felt it.

Though she tried not to, she fell asleep again, still holding Josh’s hand. Distantly, she was aware of more people in the room, adjusting her, moving things. The tube was pulled from her throat, and she gagged a little, getting another stab with the effort. She could hear herself gasping, her chest working hard—oh, shit, it hurt. She heard a moaning sound. Hers, she assumed.

Someone was putting something in her hand. “Just press this button when you need more pain control,” a female voice said. She pressed, and a warm wave enveloped her, making her float. Morphine. Ooh. That was nice. Her head pain went away, and her chest didn’t hurt as much, wasn’t jerking so much. Even her breathing was easier, thank God.

“Atta girl,” the nurse said, and Lauren opened her eyes and smiled.

Josh was standing right next to her, his face ruined.

“Hi,” she said, her voice a croak.

“Hi, honey.”

“I love you.” It was hard to get the words out.

“I love you, too. So much.”

The nurse adjusted her and, with such kindness, brushed her hair and washed her face gently, gave her a sip of water. “Thank you,” Lauren whispered.

“You’re welcome, honey.” The nurse dropped a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pray for you both.” She was crying.

Nurses were the best. “Do I look . . . pretty?” Lauren asked her husband, and she managed a smile. Even her face was tired.

“Beautiful,” he answered, trying to smile back despite the tears in his eyes. “You . . . do you want me to get everyone?”