Page 114 of Loving the Legend
“Ty, wake up.”
I jolt awake, causing an acidic burn to shoot up my chest.
“What’s happening?” I ask, staring between Ishan and Adam.
“He just stirred. I think he’s waking up,” Ishan says.
We hover over Adam, searching for movement.
“I swear, he just moved,” Ishan says, a desperate tinge in his voice.
Ishan’s watch lights up, and I scan that it’s a couple minutes past ten in the morning.
I nod. “Adam, can you hear us?”
He doesn’t move an inch.
Then, a minute or so later, his eyes begin to move.
My gaze darts to Ishan, who nods, confirming that I didn’t imagine it.
“Hey, Unc…it’s Ty. Ishan and I are here with you,” I say gently.
We wait for a response…or any sign that he’s heard me.
Ishan looks at me and frowns.
“Maybe he’s—” Ishan starts but freezes when Adam groans.
“I’ll get the nurse,” he says, darting out of the room.
“Ishan is getting the nurse, but I’m here with you,” I say, taking his hand.
He groans again as his eyes slowly crack open. He winces.
My eyes well up as his gaze searches my face. I wipe them quickly, remembering Dr. Rivers’ advice to appear calm. He looks so confused. His eyes droop closed again.
Ishan returns with Nurse Ford on his trail.
Ishan and I stand back as he observes Adam and checks his vitals. The nurse tries to elicit a response from Adam, but he’s out cold.
“He’s pretty heavily sedated, so it may take him a while to become fully conscious. Everything looks good here. I’ll be back to check on him in thirty minutes. If you need anything, just push this button right here,” he says, gesturing to a button on the inside arm of Adam’s bed frame.
Ishan and I settle back down into our chairs. I retrieve my phone from the floor where it’s charging and see missed calls from Sid, his mom Lily, and cousin Kieran, and a few texts from my teammates checking in.
I listen to Sid and Lily’s voicemails—both checking in for an update. A few seconds into Kieran's voicemail, I jump to my feet.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ishan.
He nods, keeping his eyes glued on Adam.
I head down the corridor and make a left turn. When I enter the waiting room, a bunch of heads turn in my direction. The room seems less crowded now that Adam’s co-workers are gone.
A young kid pats an older man’s arm and then points to me.
Ugh. This is the last place I want to be recognized.
I’m about to double back to Adam’s room when I hear, “Ty.”
