Page 24 of Mind

“Thank you. Please send the doctor to us when he’s available,” Chase asks dismissing the nurse.

“Gillian, Phillip is strong and has so much to live for. He’ll fight.”

I suck in a breath and choke back a sob. “Anabelle needs to be picked up or the sitter will need to stay longer.” I frantically grasp at anything I can be doing now. Phillip is laid up on a slab while people put him back together.Please, let them put him back together.

I pull out my phone and dial her grandparents’ number. It rings and rings. “God dammit!” The answering machine picks up and I leave a message to call me. I try Bree’s phone next. This time I leave a message. “Bree, Phillip’s been in an accident. We’re at San Francisco General Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit waiting room. Get down here now.” I stand up and pace and punch in Phillip’s home number. It rings once before the phone is picked up by a young girl.

“Eva, it’s Gigi.”

“Oh thank God! Gigi,” the young girl starts to cry. “Mr. Parks isn’t here. He left hours ago. Said he’d be home…but…he’s not here. I’ve called and called,” she sniffs.

“Calm down sweetheart. Phillip was in an accident at the gym. He’s in the hospital. Can you stay with Anabelle until I have someone pick her up later tonight? I’ll make sure you’re compensated. I know you have school in the morning, but we really need you until I can get there.” Quick math reminds me that Phillip’s parents are two hours away but Angela’s are only thirty minutes. I need to contact them. “Do me a favor and text me the numbers on the fridge for Anabelle’s Nana and Papa.”

“I tried to call them. Some housekeeper said they were in Hawaii for the next couple weeks,” she starts to weep again.

“Okay sweetie, don’t you worry. I’m going to pick Anabelle up tonight or have one of my friends do it. Can you watch her for another few hours? Until around ten or so?”

The young girl hiccups and then takes a slow breath. “Yeah, I can handle it. I’ll call my mom and tell her what’s happening. Can I call you if anything else happens or my mom wants to talk to you?”

“Of course, honey. You’ve got my number now. I’m surprised you didn’t call it sooner.”

The crying jag I thought ended came back with a vengeance. “I did!” she screeches. “I called and called and left message after message.”

“Your phone number’s been changed, Gillian,” Chase taps my shoulder obviously able to hear her. I close my eyes and realize the error. At least Phil updated his medical information or none of us would know what was happening.

“Listen, honey, I forgot that I got a new phone. You’re doing great taking care of our Anabelle, making sure she is safe. I’m very proud of you and appreciate you helping us right now.”

“Of course. I love this family,” she says then takes a slow breath. “Mr. Parks is so good to me. I hope he’s going to be okay.”

“He will be fine,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster, not entirely sure if I am convincing myself or Eva.

Chase hugs me closer to his side, a protective, comforting squeeze that fills my heart with hope. “I’ll be in touch with you soon, okay Eva?”

“Okay Gigi. See you later. I’ll take very good care of Anabelle.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. See you soon. Goodbye,” I hang up and lean into Chase’s warmth. The honest truth that Phillip’s life is in God’s hands is enough for me to break down. Chase holds me tight to his chest while I sob, never loosening his hold. So strong. Deep gut-wrenching heaves wrack my frame as the devastating reality that Phillip could be gone from this earth, wraps its evil, poison dipped claws into my psyche.

An hour later, a hurricane of footsteps rush into the intensive care waiting area. Maria and Bree are running down the bright white hallway. It’s as if I see them in slow motion. Standing, I open my arms as Bree barrels into them.

“Tell me, tell me,” her voice becomes far too loud in the quiet space.

“It’s not good Bree. He’s still in surgery…” tears fill my eyes and make everything seem blurry. I try to find the words to tell Phillip’s girlfriend the news. Chase puts a hand on my shoulder and ushers me into the nearest chair. Bree stands crumbling inward, her long blonde hair falling in front of her like a veil. Chase holds onto her, bringing her to the seat next to me then crouches low. His hands clasp both of Bree’s as Maria sits down next to us.

This is probably the kindest gesture I’ve ever seen my alpha male make when he’s not behind closed doors, and doesn’t involve me personally. My friend’s head lifts up, her watery gaze on him, as if he is a life preserver during a shipwreck.

“Bree, Phillip was in the middle of an explosion at the gym. He’s one of over twenty people injured in the blast.” She gasps and sucks in a tortured breath. “He has internal injuries, a collapsed lung, and both legs are broken. We know he’s in surgery to manage his injuries. He’s been in for over eight hours. That’s all we know.” Tears slide down Bree’s pinked cheeks. They fall in fat, wet drops, onto her fuchsia yoga pants.

“What if he doesn’t make it?” She whispers the one thing that I fear more than anything.

Maria and I crowd around Bree and the three of us hug. “He has to make it. That’s just how it’s going to be,” I say gaining more confidence with each moment. Every second they don’t tell me my friend has left us means he’s fighting to be here. For us, for Anabelle, for everyone who loves him.

Huddled together is how Kat, Carson, and Tom find us. Chase briefs them on Phil’s prognosis while we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Over the past three hours I’d gotten ahold of Phillip’s parents and they drove down, making it here less than an hour ago. They agree to stay at Phil’s and alternate taking care of Anabelle with the rest of us girls. Chase and I plan to take her for the weekends, and both Maria and Kat offer to take as many evenings as necessary. Bree is practically catatonic while we hash out the specifics of my best friend’s life.

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