Page 100 of Surviving the Merge
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm my limbs.
“Justin!”
My eyes snapped open. I took my first full breath as if breaking the surface of the ocean. Damon stood in front of me with his hands gripping my shoulders. I wasn’t trembling—he was shaking me, trying to get my attention. How long had he been calling my name?
“I’m... I’m…” I’d lost all feeling in my tongue. It lay heavy on the floor of my mouth.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, taking me tentatively into his arms. Awkward at first, but he relaxed in fractions, rubbing circles along my back and whispering that it would be okay. He placed soft kisses atop my head. “I’ve got you.”
“What if she doesn’t make it?” I balled my fists and beat into his back. My tears collected in the soft cotton of his shirt, and... heheldme. A memory resurfaced:Are you saying I have never held you before?Damon had asked one night.
“I’ll never say it again,” I murmured for my ears alone.
Ash stormed through the stairwell door with a focused determination in his stride. His lab coat flapped behind him like a cape. He came to a sudden stop, seeing me and Damon on the floor, hugging. “What the hell? I came as soon as I heard.”
“She was riding that bike in the fog. Damn it, I’m so mad at her.” Releasing Damon, I stalked a few feet away, working both hands through my hair and then entwining them behind my neck.
“Let me go see what I can find out,” Ash said.
“The surgeon came out not too long ago and gave us the most updated information.” Shit, I completely forgot about Norman and Mrs. Bailey. Turning on my heels, I spotted them sitting in the waiting area across the hall. Sam hadn’t yet been brought out of the operating room.
“I’m going to find out the unfiltered version. I’ll be right back.” He left without waiting for a response.
Sensing Damon behind me, I leaned back into him, seeking his strength. He wrapped his arms around my waist.
Ashton returned a moment later, but before I could tell him I didn't want the untarnished truth, the OR doors opened, and Sam was wheeled out on a gurney. We moved closer to Norman and Mrs. Bailey in order to get a view of her as they passed. Between the tubes, bandages, masks and machines, all I could make out clearly was her hair. We stood there silently as she moved further and further away from us. It took everything in me to keep it together.
“The Bailey family?” a nurse inquired. She removed her surgical mask and hair cap.
“Yes, I’m her mother.”
“We’re going to get her all set up in a room, and then you can visit with her briefly. We ask that you not talk to her. We have her heavily sedated to keep her asleep. Talking to her may cause agitation.” She saw our mutual concern. “She’s a fighter. We’ll get you guys in there as soon as possible.” She walked off, and I enfolded Mrs. Bailey in my arms.
A low whine and something nudging at my leg brought my head down. Two sad puppy-dog eyes stared back at me. “Hey, Pluto, what are you doing here?” I knelt down to scratch behind his floppy ears, peering up at Max’s approach.
“He’s a service dog today,” Max said. “I came as soon as Ash called. I’m so sorry, Justin. She told me she was headed to your house for the car key. I should have known something was up when she insisted on driving around to your house instead of walking through the backyard.”
“It’s not your fault.” That honor belonged to Sam. Damon watched me like a hawk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d read my mind.
I made introductions and filled everyone in on what I knew, the reason why the accident occurred. The mood was somber while we waited for word that we could go in and see her, nearly tripping over each other once we got the okay.
Machines beeped. Tubes pushed air, fluid, and medication into her body. Tubes pulled fluids out of her body too. Red, yellow, and green neon lines rose and lowered on screens—and a contraption hooked to her finger caused numbers to raise and lower at an alarming rate on a monitor to the right of the bed. Tape held needles in place at the crook of her elbow and the top of her hand. The scariest thing of all was the imposing, whirring ventilator helping her to remain alive.
Hooked up to so many things we were afraid to get too close. Fearing we would set off alarms or worse.
No one talked. We had strict orders not to speak, and when Mrs. Bailey became overwhelmed with emotion, she dealt with it out in the hall. Norman too.
She looked fragile. I wanted so badly to hold her hand. Her hands were just about the only thing visible, and it pained me to think about what she looked like under the layer of blankets and sheets. We were told that the first night out of surgery was the most concerning. If she was stable by tomorrow, they’d start discussing when to go back in to remove the packing around her liver and close her up. Everything else after that would be done in stages: removing the draining tube from her lungs and the breathing tube and bringing her out of her induced sleep. They’d assess the head trauma at that point. The scan didn’t show swelling to the brain, only light bruising. We were told this was good news.
Damon signaled for me to come with him into the hall. We left Ash and Max to watch over her. “I’m not leaving,” I said defensively as soon as I stepped outside her room.
“I wasn’t going to suggest you do. Ash was able to get us an empty room on the floor below. I’m sure her mother and uncle will want to sleep in here with her tonight. Max volunteered to run to the house and bring us a few things.”
“Okay, good. Hopefully, we’ll be able to stay there tomorrow night as well,” I said. His lips thinned. He wanted to disagree with that plan, but before he said anything, I warned him, “Pick your battles, Damon.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his jaw clenched. Coming forward to kiss my forehead, he gave in. “All right. Whatever you need—but if he can’t get us an empty room, then the topic of going home at least to sleep is back on the table.”
I leaned back to argue, but he pinched my lips between his thumb and forefinger. “Pick your battles, Justin.”
