Page 10 of Midnight and Mine

She slaps me. “No way. I thought maybe middle school when Beau and Vanessa got together was when you started having a thing for Wynter.”

I let out a half-laugh. “Well, I remember chasing her on the playground in kindergarten, so I guess that’s where my infatuation started. For nearly two decades, she saw me as a friend and later a friend with benefits.”

“If it’s any consolation, she said the benefits were good… really good when we were in high school. She was just scared, then when Mark died… she just didn’t want to go through the pain that I did. She’s loved you as long asI can remember, but Wynter being stubborn, she had to come to terms with it.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing. Like I said at our wedding, ‘It’s our journey and… I… just don’t want it to end, not like this.’”

Jess sits up straight, taking my cheeks in her hands. “It’s not going to end. Only positive thoughts.”

My mom trades places with Jess, wrapping me in an embrace full of love. “Scotty, she’ll pull through.”

She will. She has to.

Squeezing my mom, I agree, “I know. Thanks for being here.”

“Honey, I wouldn’t be anywhere else. We’ve loved that girl since the day she came into the world. Did Drake give any clues about why she went to the gorge?”

“No, but I’m going to ask.”

Drake sits by himself in the corner, fidgeting. Although Drake is a couple of years younger than us, we played football and baseball together, but it wasn’t until Beau was in the military, and Mark passed away that our friendship developed into what it is today. One day, Drake called and asked me to play in a softball league. That turned into coaching a Pop Warner football team with him, which turned into coaching middle school baseball together.

Since Vanessa is the CEO of Barron’s Bourbon, and Jess and Maverick travel a lot, Drake has become one of Wynter’s best friends too. He’s single, so he’s always hanging out with us, eating dinner, watching games or movies, and before she got pregnant, going to bars and dance halls.

I slump into the chair beside him as he strums his fingers against the plastic arms of the hospital chairs. “Hey, do you know why she went to the gorge? She had planned to be writing most of the day.”

He sighs, tilting his head back. “No, why? It doesn’t change the fact that she’s unconscious,” he snaps, but in a hushed tone.

We’re all scared, so I give him the benefit of the doubt. “I know. She usually texts me if she’s going to do something other than what was planned.”

“So, you make her report in? She didn’t call you… all day?” Drake asks.

“Wynter knew the surgery would be at least six to eight hours, so no, I didn’t talk to her. She messaged me to get her Bojangles on the way home. Hey, maybe the smell of Bojangles will wake her up. Can you get Maverick or Beau to take you to pick up my car?”

“Sure, I can’t see her anyway.”

Does he think she’s going to die? Is that why he won’t look me in the eye?

“Thanks, man. I love you for being here for both of us. Text me when you get back.”

When her dad returns from her room, he says, “No change, but she looks like she’s sleeping peacefully.” Brief comforting expressions rest on our friends’ faces. “You go back in. We know you’re the face she’ll want to see when she wakes up.” Her dad’s lids are filled with water, but none has fallen yet. “My baby girl is strong. She’ll make it, and it will be one more story to tell in the Adventures of Wynter. That’s the book she should write,” he says, grinning as he shakes his head.

My lips tremble as I nod.

As I walk down the corridor, some of the doors are open, and worry stretches across the faces of people beside their loved ones. I’m not the only one going through this type of devastation. For some reason, it helps knowing I’m not alone.

The wipe-off board in her room gives the name of the nurse, doctor, allergies, and medication list. It’s something I’m used to since I spend about thirty percent of my time in hospital operating rooms. Often, I go in with the doctor beforehand to explain the device the doctor will be implanting.

I rest my head on the bed rail while I hold her hand and drift off to sleep. I’m awakened by the transport nurse coming to take her to get her CT scan. She also informs me that I can’t go with Wynter, but I’m welcome to stay in the room.

Thirty minutes later, she’s back in the room, and the nurse informs me, “The doctor will be in after he has a chance to review the scan. It won’t be long, maybe an hour or three.”

“Thanks.”

The nurse takes her time hooking Wynter back up to all the monitors and cleans the wound from her stitches. “Will it hurt the baby if she doesn’t eat? I don’t know when she ate last. I think she ate a sandwich earlier yesterday afternoon, but I don’t know if she had anything after that.” I start to panic, nerves prickling me all over. “I’m a terrible husband not knowing if my wife had dinner.”

“Accidents happen. This isn’t your fault. But we’re hydrating her through the IV, so the baby will be fine. If it goes too long without her waking up on her own, we’ll feed her through a tube.”

She taps a few buttonson the computer, checks the monitor, and leaves me with my thoughts. I stroke my wife’s hair, kiss her forehead, and tell her about all the people waiting in the lobby for her to wake up.

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