I had cried until I felt I couldn't cry anymore. I forced myself to get up and try to do something to get me through the next six to eight hours, but it was difficult to be fully present for anything.

I felt like a ghost, floating through a series of practiced motions and rehearsed responses. All I could think about was him and whether or not he was making it through.

"Are you okay?" Denise asked me.

I looked over to find her and Tiffany staring at me with looks of concern. My eyes clouded with tears. "I don't know."

They pulled me to the side, and for the first time ever, hugged me. I stood there between them, the emotional and physical warmth of their embrace set me over the edge. I started crying again.

"We know you care about him," Tiffany said when they let me go. "And we know he's crazy about you. You're his support system. You can't do anything to support him right now other than be ready to help him when he wakes up."

Denise grinned. "It's scary, but you have to believe he is going to make it through. There's no way someone with that much . . . gusto wouldn't."

I chuckled and wiped my cheeks. "Thank you. Both of you."

Theresa walked up. I stared at her, waiting for a scolding. "He is going to make it," she said in her frank way. "Sitting there crying isn't going to help anyone. Help me with this blood draw."

I sniffled and straightened up. "Yes, ma'am."

Even after I dedicated myself to only checking the time every few minutes rather than every few seconds, the time crept by. I hadn't eaten anything, hadn't sat down since I came up here. The time dragged by. Two hours passed, then four, then six. Before I knew it, my shift was over, but I worked late to stay busy.

An hour after that, I still had no news, but I knew I would not leave until I heard something. My phone rang just before I lost all hope.

I ran down the hall, then stairs, and down to the ICU. I searched for the rooms until I found him. He laid in the bed, unconscious and intubated. He looked still. Pale. Absent. But my mind wouldn't accept that observation.

Dr. Mathews stepped into view, taking notes in his chart

When I walked into the room, he stopped me with a hand. I stilled. "When you are in here, you are family, not his nurse," he said.

I stared at him for a moment then took off my badge and tucked it into my pocket. He welcomed me in. "How is he?" I asked.

"He did well in the surgery, but the tumor was trickier than we expected. The surgery's toll on his body will be significant." I checked his stats on the monitors. The tears welled in my eyes. "If he can make it through the night, he stands a fighting chance. If he makes it through the night," he reminded me. "As you know, the next twenty-four hours—"

"Are critical," I finished for him.

He nodded and left the room, sliding the door closed behind him.

I looked back at Ziggy, so pale and frail. The slow beeping of his heart monitor and the even sounds of the respirator filled the silence. I sat on the bed next to him and gripped his hand, remembering what he had said to me the last time I held it.

I should have told him. I knew I should have said I loved him too, even if I wasn't sure. If I lose him and never told him . . . I couldn't think about that.

I stroked the back of my fingers against his cheek, wishing he would open his eyes and look at me again.

I started to cry but stopped myself. He was here. He made it through surgery. He was still fighting. It wasn't time to give up on him now.

"Hey, Ziggy," I whispered to him. "You made it through surgery. Just like I said." I stroked his hand between both of mine. "You did great, but I need you to do a little more. I need you to get better and wake up. Okay?" I knew there was only a slim chance he could hear me, but the odds could go fuck themselves.

I remembered his beanie in my pocket and took it out. I pulled it onto his head, situating it over his brow where he preferred it to sit. I climbed into the bed and curled up next to him, noticing his vitals had improved ever so slightly. "I'm right here, and I'm going to stay here until you wake up."

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the tear slip from my eye.

"I'm right here."

I jerked awake, not realizing I had been asleep. A nurse stood near the bed while she jotted down his changes. I looked over and saw they were slim.

The nurse and I knew each other. Not well, but we had interacted a few times. We made eye contact and she nudged her head toward us. "I need to change out his dressings."

"Oh, yeah of course." I crawled out of the bed to give her space. Embarrassed by my former position, I tried to save face. "His stats improved a little when I laid next to him. I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep doing it," I explained to her. She acknowledged me with a disinterested hum. "I can help with that if—"

"No," she stopped me. "You can't."

She pulled down the sheet and lifted his gown. His bandages were bloodied, the iodine still tinged his pale stomach with yellow.

I shook my head at myself. What they must think of me. A nurse, a medical professional, in her own place of employment, curled up in bed next to her patient. A better person would have shown restraint in order to protect the last shred of integrity she had left, but I was not a better person.

I was Ziggy's person and nothing could change that now. I wouldn't leave his side—couldn't leave his side—until he woke up.

She finished with him and pulled his gown back down. I didn't wait for her to leave before I climbed back in next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. There was no need for me to see her reaction when she walked out.

Feeling his warmth against my cheek, my mind drifted back in time. My mother, right at the end, looked so much like this. First, there were the teary goodbyes, then the pain that lingered while she slowly slipped from consciousness, and over the next few days, slipped away completely. She didn't want to struggle at the end, didn't want to be kept around longer than her body decided. The tears slipped from my eyes.

Watching her go made me lose a piece of myself. A piece so big, I didn't think I would ever recover. So far, I hadn't.

But, this wasn't like that.

I rested my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my palm, the monitor's beeping confirming it was real and not a figment of my desires. There was no benefit in rumination. No sense in validating fears and what-ifs.

He would make it. He had to.

After another fitful sleep, I felt a tickle on my arm. I looked up and saw Ziggy's eyes flutter open.

"Ziggy!" He looked over at me. I sat up and pressed the call button. He began to fight against his breathing tube. I placed my hand on his chest. "Just take deep breaths. They will take it out soon."

Two ICU nurses came rushing in and they helped remove the tube. He coughed as they set him up in the bed. He took his own deep, raspy breaths. As I watched them check him, and over a few moments, verify he was okay, my hands were shaking, my eyes watering in disbelief.

He looked worried and reached for me. I sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand with mine. He tried to speak only to start coughing again. I poured him a small glass of water and held it to him. "Just a small sip," I instructed.

With much difficulty, he took a sip. He managed to swallow and looked up at me.

"Looks like I made it," he croaked. I smiled and nodded at him through happy tears.

"Welcome back, Mr. Ziegler," Dr. Mathews said as he entered the room.

He ran him through a series of tests. Though fatigued and still heavily medicated, he passed them all. The joy welled in my chest.

"How did I do?" Ziggy asked when he was through.

"The surgery went very well. We were able to remove the entire tumor with good margins."

Ziggy stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Dr. Mathews nodded with a smile. "We will still need to run some follow-up tests to confirm, but we are confident that we got it all."

Ziggy's brow creased. He dropped his head into his hand, covering his face as he started to cry. I did the same, wiping my eyes and cheeks with my sleeve.

"For now, it's best you continue to rest. We'll keep you here for a few days to monitor you and wait for the tests to come back, then we hope to send you on your way soon after. Cancer free."

Ziggy breathed deep, still in tears. Through his sobs, he managed to speak. "Thank you so, so much."