DEACON
"Gone?" I replied dumbly. "He . . . died?" I knew it was a possibility. He'd been in the ICU for a while, and there was always the chance of a pulmonary embolism, or something we hadn't picked up yet, or even a heart attack . . .
"No. He left. There was some kind of kerfuffle with Mrs. Wilkie-it wasn't anything serious, just an alarm they couldn't get turned off-and then just now, Andi went in to take Ted's vitals, and the bed was empty. He'd disconnected all the IVs, the oxygen . . . his bag isn't in the closet."
"Oh." I stood there for a few moments, frozen to the spot. "Okay. Well, I guess that was his way of giving me his answer on treatment, huh?"
Darcy laid her hand on my arm. "I'm sorry, Deacon."
Mira sighed. "I am, too. For all that I didn't want to hope Ted would do
