Page 18 of Anything For This Love

Busted.

My attention is pulled away from the TV at the distant sound of a phone ringing. I turn down the volume to hear better. My grandmother’s muffled voice follows, and I frown. Who on earth would be calling her this time of night? A few seconds later, her bedroom door flies open and she bursts into the hallway. All the color has drained from her face and her typically neat hair is a disheveled mess, silver strands coming loose from the single plait over her shoulder.

I scramble from my seat and go to her. “What’s wrong?”

Her obsidian eyes fix on me as tears pool between her lashes. “Your brother’s been in an accident.” The wind is knocked out of me, every molecule of oxygen sucked from my lungs like a fist has just been slammed into my gut.

“No,” I whisper. “No!” I declare louder. “What happened? Where is he?” Jacob is at my side in an instant, offering his gentle touch on the small of my back, but I barely register his presence. My brother could be hurt or …

No. I refuse to think like that.

“He took a curve too fast in his truck. The road was slick. He went over an embankment.” A sob breaks loose from her throat and I instinctively pull her in for a hug. I’ve never seen her break down like this. She’s always the rock, the solid foundation that holds our family together. But now she’s crumbling. “He’s in critical condition.” Her shoulders shake and my stomach clenches, threatening to spill everything I’ve eaten today.

Jacob springs into action, rushing around us and grabbing supplies. “Ama,” he prods gently, “go put on some warmer clothes. It’s too cold for what you have on.” She nods and wordlessly retreats to her bedroom to change out of her pajamas. Jacob turns his attention to me. “Grab your coat and shoes. I’ll get Chloe and drive you and Ama to the hospital. Neither of you should be driving right now.”

It’s then that I realize there are tears streaming down my face and my vision is blurred. He’s right. We’re both a mess and don’t need to get behind the wheel right now.

Jacob ushers us to the car and places Chloe gently in her car seat, still fast asleep. The ride to the hospital is a blur. All I can think about is Ethan. I pray he’s okay, that he’ll pull through and recover from whatever injuries he’s sustained.

When we make it to the ER, they inform us that he’s in the process of being moved to the ICU. As I step away from the desk, the doors open and Tiff rushes inside. I let out a relieved cry and run to her. She enfolds me, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders, matching my cries with her own. When we both finally calm down and pull away, there are black streaks running down her face and her eyes are bloodshot.

“How did you know? Did Jacob call you?”

She shakes her head vigorously, sniffling as she swipes at her cheeks. “My stepdad heard it on the scanner. Abby, I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks and sobs wrack her body.

“He’s going to be okay. He has to be.”

“I pray you’re right. I had to drive past where… where…” She can’t even say it. She had to see the spot where he lost control and wrecked. “It looked bad.” She sucks in a shuddering breath, losing her composure again.

“Let’s go up to the waiting room, girls. We’ll want to be there when they have news on Ethan.” My grandmother guides us to the bank of elevators that will take us to the Intensive Care Unit.

Memories of her time in the hospital slam into me, stealing my breath and weakening my knees. I never wanted to be in this position again, waiting for word about a loved one whose life is hanging in the balance. I tap out a quick text to Jacob to let him know what’s going on. He stayed in the car with Chloe so we wouldn’t have to drag her into the hospital in the middle of the night.

I don’t know what we would’ve done without him. He kept a level head and took charge of the situation so my grandmother and I could get here safely. I should send him home to get some rest since we'll be here for a while. Tiff agrees to give us a ride home, so I send another message, instructing him to go home and get Chloe settled back in. I try to persuade my grandmother to leave with him, but she won’t hear of it. I worry about her heart and what the stress of Ethan being in critical condition will do to her, but she stands by her decision.

It takes nearly an hour for someone to come out and update us once we make it to the ICU waiting room. A petite woman in green scrubs and a white lab coat pushes through the double doors marked “Intensive Care Unit” and strides swiftly toward us. Her name tag reads “Dr. Huang, Intensivist.” My lower lip trembles and I swallow back my fear and trepidation as she lowers her small frame into the seat adjacent to us and folds her hands in her lap. Her warm, brown eyes fill with compassion once she confirms we’re Ethan’s family.

“Ethan has been stabilized, but his situation is still very serious. He’s sustained several injuries, including one to the head that is causing some swelling and loss of consciousness. He has several broken ribs and a tib-fib fracture,” she explains, pointing to the two bones in her lower leg to show us where his is broken. We all three suck in a sharp breath and hold it. “However, he’s breathing on his own and only requires supplemental oxygen at this time.” We let out a collective sigh. “We’re monitoring him closely. He’s lost some blood, but his cat scan shows no internal bleeding. We’ll know more about his prognosis when he wakes up, but it may take a little while for the swelling in his brain to go down. Right now, our goal is to keep his vital signs stable and monitor his blood count.”

“Can we see him?” my grandmother asks.

“Right now, we can only let one family member in his room at a time. It’s hospital policy.” She gives us an apologetic smile.

My grandmother turns to me, gripping both my hands in hers with pleading in her eyes. Ethan is her grandson, and although he’s my brother, I know how badly she needs to see him.

“You go.” I nod my head toward the double doors. She should be the one to see him first. “Just,” I begin, taking a deep breath to steady my voice and my nerves, “tell him I love him.”

“I will,” she promises and pats my hand.

“Since it’s outside normal visiting hours, we only allow visitors fifteen minutes. I’ll see if I can get the nurses to fudge the time a little,” the doctor offers with a conspiratorial grin.

She makes good on her promise. My grandmother is gone for nearly forty minutes and although her eyes are swollen and red when she returns, she looks more relieved than when she went in.

“He’s still unconscious and his blood pressure is low, but they’re giving him medicine and IV fluids to fix that. The nurses seem optimistic that he’ll come around in the next forty-eight hours.” Her eyes beam with hope and I pray they’re not giving us false assurances. “The orthopedic doctor will be in to see him tomorrow about his broken leg.” She wrings her hands nervously and I feel a ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

I have so many questions about his recovery. Will he be able to walk normally once the bone heals? Will he still be the same Ethan once the swelling in his brain goes down and he wakes up? What if he doesn’t remember anything?

These questions swirl around in my head as Tiff drives us home. It’s nearly two a.m. when she pulls into our driveway

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