Page 29 of Sunflowers and Surrender

On instinct, I look over my shoulder just before everything goes black.

Chapter 21

Alex

Making the phone call to Sybil and Scott about their daughter’s accident is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Topped only by seeing Tuesday mowed down by that car. Running to her lifeless body, I wept when I found a pulse.

Henry allowed me to jump in the unit with Max. I don’t have the medical skills the paramedics possess, but there was no way I was letting her out of my sight. I should’ve offered to drive the ambulance, but my captain and Henry could both tell I was frantic and in no position to be driving.

We delivered her unconscious form to the medical college. It’s the closest level one trauma center in the area. She was immediately whisked into the trauma bay, clothes stripped from her, and tubes placed in ungodly places. I stayed as long as I could until it was evident this wasn’t a typical patient drop-off, and a nurse escorted me to the waiting room. It was there I made that fateful call to her parents before I allowed myself to fall apart.

I can’t remember the last time I cried. Even when I attended my grandparent’s funerals. But for all the waffling I did before I pulled my head out of my ass, it’s evident now that this girl is my entire universe.

“She’s got to be all right. She just has to,” I mutter to myself as I pace the overcrowded room. I’m sure I look like I’m the patient and am having some type of psychotic break.

“Alex, are you staying?” Max asks, breaking me from my hysteria.

“Yes. I’m waiting for her parents to get here.”

“Okay. Please tell them we’re praying for her. And could you let us know how she’s doing?”

“Of course.”

Max pats me on the arm before heading to the ambulance to mark themselves available to take the next call. Life moving on. As if the world hadn’t just ceased to exist as I knew it.

The Palmers make record time, joining me in the waiting room before heading to the triage nurse to introduce themselves and ask to speak with the emergency room attending currently providing care for Tuesday. At least they can get some intel. I likely wouldn’t have gotten far stating I was her boyfriend, much less a secret boyfriend.

Fuck that. I don’t care who knows anymore.

It seemslike I’ve been sitting out here forever. The Palmers have to come out soon and let me know something. My mind is jumping to the worst-case scenario.

As if they’ve heard my plea, I feel a hand on my shoulder and bolt out of my chair.

“It’s okay, Alex.” Tuesday’s father attempts to comfort me. “They’ve irradiated her from stem to stern. There’s no head injury that they can discern at this point. The car crushed her pelvis. They believe she lost a lot of blood. The combination of that and the trauma threw her into shock.”

Falling into my seat, I run my hands through my hair. If only I’d seen that car coming sooner. If I could have run to her. “How is she? Any change?”

“No. Not yet,” her mother answers, sniffling. “They took her straight to the OR. She’s going to have a long road ahead of her.”

My waterlogged gaze connects with her red-rimmed one, and I get the definite feeling she knows. This isn’t concern for my best friend’s little sister. But I don’t have it in me to have that conversation right now. And if she’s trying to warn me what’s ahead, she’s wasting her breath. My whole life is in that operating room right now. I can’t even think of a world without Sunny in it.

Hours later,Tuesday’s parents are called back to the recovery room to talk to the surgeon. While my mother and sisters are the praying members of our family, I take the opportunity every chance I get to plead with the man upstairs. It’s in the middle of a bargaining prayer where I promise to go to church on Sundays if he’ll only give Tuesday a chance, that her parents come out and advise she’s been moved to the shock trauma intensive care unit or STICU for short.

“How did she look? Did everything go okay?”

Her mother looks to her father, who pulls Sybil into his side. “The surgeon said she did well. Better than expected, given the mechanism of her injury.”

“But I never imagined seeing my daughter this way. She looks so frail,” Sybil cries.

“You should go on home, Alex. You’ve had a long day.”

“No,” I blurt. “I… I can’t.”

Sybil pulls me in for a tight hug, and it’s then, I’m sure. She knows. For the briefest of moments, I wonder how long they’ve known but dismiss it almost as soon as the thought presents itself.

“They have a family waiting area there. I’m not sure when you’ll be able to see her, but at least you’ll be close if that time comes.”

“Thank you,” I squeak out.

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