Page 77 of Aria

“I’m at Presbyterian. Can you come?”

There was a pause of silence. “The hospital?”

“Yes. Can you come?”

More silence followed before fear threaded her voice. “Noah. What happened?”

I choked on my next words: “It’s Sam.”

* * *

Chelsie

Racing madly through the emergency room doors, my eyes searched for Noah. When I spotted him sitting in a waiting room chair with his head in his hands, I rushed over, still wearing my frumpy sweater and house slippers, my heart in my throat. “Noah?”

His name was a question. A query. It was a yearning for answers, an apology, a solace, a hug, and a quiet consolation all in one breath. I found myself crouching down in front of him, situating my body between his legs. I splayed two unsteady hands on each knee, noting how they trembled ever so slightly beneath my palms. Noah raised his head, our eyes locking in a powerful hold.

“Noah.”

This time it was permission. Permission to break, permission to cry. Permission to scream, curse, blame, and crumble.

He did break. He let his head fall between my breasts, his body overwrought with painful sobs. Pulling him closer, I rested my cheek against the top of his head and ran delicate fingers through his hair. Warm tears stained the front of my sweater.

I held him tight, lightly stroking the back of his neck until his tears subsided. Noah’s face was pressed up against my heartbeat, and I hoped it was saying all the things I couldn’t put into words.

“Mr. Hayes?”

We looked up to see a man in scrubs standing before us with a clipboard in his hand. Noah nodded.

“I’m Doctor Altschuler. I have an update on your son, Samuel.”

Rising to my feet, I slid into the seat beside Noah. I still didn’t know what had happened to Sam, except that he had fallen. That was all Noah had revealed before I dropped the dinner plate I’d been washing and watched as it disintegrated into a thousand tiny shards on the kitchen floor. I had left the condo so fast, I’d forgotten my purse and to change out of my slippers.

“Is he okay?” Noah was sitting up straight, his eyes troubled and bloodshot.

Please be okay.

The doctor smiled, and my chest fluttered with hope.

“Your son’s prognosis is good. He suffered a severe concussion and cerebral adema, which is swelling of the brain. We had to perform a ventriculostomy to drain the fluid and relieve the swelling—but don’t worry. He’s doing great, even though it sounds scary. The fall also broke his proximal humerus, which is the upper arm bone. Luckily, the fracture looked clean, so we did not need to operate.”

“Oh, thank God,” I muttered, placing a gentle hand on Noah’s shoulder. I glanced over at him, noting how the fear washed away. His features softened, his body relaxing.

“Can I see him?”

Dr. Altschuler shook his head. “Not just yet, I’m afraid. He will need about ninety minutes to recover before we allow visitors. I’ll have the nurse come get you shortly. Sam will be transferred to the pediatric unit in roughly twenty-four hours for monitoring. If all continues to go well, he can go home in a couple of days. Are there any other questions?”

Noah swallowed. “Is he awake?”

The doctor nodded. “He’s conscious. The effects of the anesthesia are still wearing off, but he should be fully alert in no time.”

Noah rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back. “Thanks, Doctor.”

The doctor offered a tight-lipped smile and disappeared down the hall.

I squeezed Noah’s arm. His eyes were closed, and I wondered what was going through his mind. “He’s going to be okay,” I whispered.

Noah’s eyelids fluttered. He placed his left hand on top of mine as I massaged his forearm with my thumb, then pivoted to face me. “Thank you for coming.”

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