Chapter 4 — Don’t Touch My Wife

“Look at his hand.”

Harlan stopped in front of me.

Adrian’s fingers remained curled around mine.

“He’s responding,” I said. “Put the syringe down.”

“That’s an involuntary contraction.”

“Then ask him.”

Julian reached for my arm again.

Adrian’s eyelids moved.

Once. Then again.

His eyes opened just enough to find Julian’s hand on me.

A sound scraped out of his throat.

Julian froze.

Adrian tried again.

“Don’t.”

I leaned closer, keeping my body between him and Harlan.

“Don’t what, Adrian?”

His gaze shifted toward the syringe.

“No.”

Harlan lowered it an inch.

“He’s confused.”

“He just refused,” I said. “You heard him.”

Julian released me.

Adrian dragged in another breath.

“My wife.”

The words were barely audible, but Julian stepped back as though Adrian had shouted.

I pressed the call button beside the bed.

“Beth! I need you in here.”

Harlan reached across me.

I caught his wrist before he reached the line.

“Explain what you’re giving him. In front of another clinician.”

His eyes hardened.

“You’re assaulting a physician.”

“Then put it down and call the police.”

For a second, neither of us moved.

The door opened.

Beth stopped on the threshold, taking in my hand on Harlan’s wrist and Julian standing beside the bed.

“He’s awake,” I told her. “He’s spoken. He refused whatever Dr. Harlan prepared.”

She came directly to Adrian.

“Mr. Voss? Can you hear me?”

His eyes shifted toward her.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Beth looked at the syringe.

“What’s the order?”

“I’ll explain outside,” Harlan said.

“No,” I said. “You’ll explain here.”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Briggs appeared, holding his phone.

“An ambulance is coming.”

Julian turned on him.

“Cancel it.”

“I told them he’s had a significant change in responsiveness and that there’s a dispute over his care.”

“This is my house.”

Briggs looked past him to Adrian.

“No, sir. It isn’t.”

Julian’s face changed.

For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed to run out of words.

Harlan stepped away from me and placed the syringe in a tray.

“I want the record to reflect that his prescribed care has been interrupted.”

Beth stayed beside the bed.

“I’ll document exactly what happened.”

I let go of his wrist.

Adrian’s eyes had closed again, but his fingers still touched mine.

“You don’t have to keep talking,” I told him. “Help is coming.”

Julian took out his phone.

I expected him to call security.

Instead, he walked into the corridor, already speaking quietly.

Harlan followed.

I watched them through the open door.

Briggs remained where he was.

“Dr. Reyes is on her way to the hospital,” he said. “She told me not to delay transport.”

I nodded.

Only then did I realize I was crying.

Beth handed me a tissue without looking away from Adrian.

When the paramedics arrived, Julian returned with a different expression.

Calm. Concerned.

“My cousin has suffered a complicated neurological injury,” he explained. “His wife is understandably emotional.”

One of the paramedics looked at me.

“What happened?”

I gave him the sequence. The responses. The refusal. The syringe.

I didn’t say poisoning.

I didn’t say attempted murder.

I described what I had seen.

Beth confirmed Adrian’s words.

Julian tried to interrupt.

The paramedic held up a hand.

“I need the nurse to finish.”

It was such a small sentence.

I could have kissed him for it.

They assessed Adrian, reviewed what records were available, and prepared him for transport. Harlan offered to accompany them.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said when nobody accepted.

I gathered my bag.

Julian caught me outside the bedroom.

“You’ve created a situation you don’t understand.”

“I understand that he said no.”

“You think hearing two words makes you qualified to decide what he needs?”

“No. That’s why I called people who are.”

His attention dropped to my bag.

“Leave the notebook.”

I held the strap tighter.

“It’s mine.”

“It contains private information about Adrian.”

“It contains my observations.”

He stepped closer.

“You don’t want another investigation with your name on it.”

“I’ve already sent copies.”

His expression went blank.

I walked past him before he recovered.

At the hospital, Reyes met us near the receiving area. She didn’t touch any equipment until the attending clinician had heard the handover and spoken to her.

Then she came to me.

“Tell me what he said.”

I repeated it.

Her eyes moved toward Adrian.

“That’s important. It isn’t the whole assessment, but it’s important.”

He was taken into a room.

For the next two hours, I stayed outside while people examined him, reviewed information, and asked questions I couldn’t answer.

Julian arrived with a lawyer.

I recognized the man from the chapel.

He approached me carrying a familiar folder.

“We should clarify your position.”

“Who do you represent?”

“The family’s interests.”

“Which person?”

He paused.

“Julian Voss.”

“Then you don’t represent me.”

“You may have misunderstood certain documents.”

“I’m beginning to think that’s why nobody gave me copies.”

Reyes returned before he could answer.

“Mr. Voss is asking for Nora.”

Julian stood.

“I’ll go in first.”

“He asked for Nora.”

Inside, Adrian lay against raised pillows, looking exhausted.

His eyes were open.

I stopped just beyond the doorway.

He looked at me.

Not toward my voice.

At me.

“Hi,” I said stupidly.

His mouth shifted.

It might have been an attempt at a smile.

Reyes stayed nearby.

“Short conversations,” she said. “He needs rest.”

I sat beside him.

“They’re going to review everything properly.”

His fingers moved toward mine.

I offered my hand.

He held it weakly.

“You came back.”

The words were rough and slow.

“Of course I did.”

He swallowed.

“He said…”

“Don’t force it.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“Car.”

I thought of my Honda.

Of Julian knowing where I’d slept.

“He told you about that?”

Adrian closed his eyes once.

“Yes.”

Heat rose into my face.

I wanted to tell him it hadn’t been so bad. That I’d parked somewhere safe. That plenty of people had worse problems.

Instead, I said, “You don’t have to be embarrassed for me.”

His eyes opened.

“Not… for you.”

I understood him then.

He was ashamed that someone carrying his name had brought me to him that way.

I squeezed his hand.

“We can talk about it later.”

He didn’t release me until Reyes gently ended the visit.

Outside, a woman in a navy coat waited with Briggs.

“Miriam Cole,” she said. “Dr. Reyes contacted me. I can advise you, but first I need to know what you signed.”

“I don’t even have everything.”

“We’ll request it.”

“What about Adrian?”

“He’ll need independent advice too, when he can participate. For now, nobody should use that ceremony as a substitute for establishing what he actually wants.”

I breathed out slowly.

Briggs handed her the transport packet.

Reyes joined us and turned through the pages.

Then she stopped.

“Where are the initial rehabilitation assessments?”

Briggs looked confused.

“They should be there.”

Reyes checked again.

“This starts almost a month after he came home.”

“That can’t be right.”

She held up the packet.

“The records we received don’t include the first weeks after the accident.”

Briggs stared at the empty space between the remaining pages.

Those were the weeks when he had seen Adrian improve.