Page 86 of See You at the Finish Line

She blinks a few times and then bursts out laughing. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” I say, joining in her laugh.

“It’s confusing.”

“Not to me.”

“So you won’t let me drive?” She brings the subject back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, yeah, no, definitely not.”

“But you’re practically fallingasleep.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No, you won’t be, and Leah will kill me if I get into an accident and steal her thunder,” she jokes darkly.

“How about this? You call the hospital and ask for an update. If it’s good news, we’ll stop and get some sleep. If there’s no news, we’ll keep driving.”

She thinks it over for a minute. “Okay, fine, but I called an hour ago and they had nothing for me. The surgery is taking so long. How do they not know anything?”

“It could mean a few things. They’re still working on her, which is good—”

“Or it means that they are working so hard so when she dies, they can tell me they did everything they could.”

“You watch too many medical dramas.”

“It’s true, though.”

“Yes, it’s true, but a long surgery also means that there’s a chance. We have receivedsomenews. We know there’s internal bleeding, so they’re trying to find the source and repair it. Depending on where that is, it takes time.”

“Why can’t they tell me?”

“It’s hard to balance keeping the family informed and focusing on the patient. You don’t want them to be distracted because they’re worried you haven’t had an update in a while.”

“Yet you’re asking me to call again?”

“That’s because I don’t give a fuck about what they want. I care about you,” I say like it should be obvious.

“Well then, I guess I’ll call.”

“Good.”

She dials the number the nurse gave her, already knowing it by heart.

“Hello, you have reached the University of Utah Hospital, if you know the extension of the person—” She cuts off the message and dials in the extension code.

“Hello, Paige, I was just about to call you,” comes a muffled voice. Dr. Barns actually answers his own phone, and I don’t know whether to panic or be relieved.

“Just tell me,” she says bluntly, putting it on speakerphone so I can hear.

“Leah is stable,” he says. Paige actively forces herself to concentrate on his next words, but I fist bump the air and a huge smile crosses her face.

“She’s not out of the woods yet, but it’s looking good. We found the bleeding and had to remove her spleen. She also had a punctured lung from one of her broken ribs. We were able to put in a chest tube and her vital signs are stable.”

“But she’s not out of the woods,” Paige says, focusing solely on that.

“Not yet. Her femur was broken and her artery was torn, so she lost a lot of blood.”

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