Page 113 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
Evie kept her eyes closed for the entire ride to the hospital, and I still had no idea what had happened or who I needed to hunt down and wreak vengeance from because Evie wasn’t talking.
When they wheeled her into the ER, I was forced to let go of her hand. They sent me to the desk to handle the paperwork and I filled it out to the best of my ability. But I didn’t even know if Evie had insurance. If not, I’d put it on my card.
I paced the waiting room, plagued bywhat-ifs.
What if I’d gotten there sooner?
What if I’d skipped the damn English essay and left right after practice?
What if I’d moved her into the guesthouse sooner?
I should have insisted as soon as she told me her mom took off. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own life, in football and my coursework and all the shit that had seemed so important at the time, I would have been there for her when she needed me.
Evie was more important than any of it.
I kicked a chair over. Got a few dirty looks. Paced some more. Stormed outside and punched a dumpster and kept on punching until my knuckles bled.
I needed answers. I needed to see Evie. I needed to know that she was going to be okay. For about the tenth time tonight, I strode to the desk.
The nurse looked at me over the top of her computer and let out a sigh of resignation. “Yes, Mr. McCallister?”
“Any news yet?”
“Not since the last time you asked.” She checked her watch. “Five minutes ago.”
“Fuck. Sorry.” I pushed my hands through my hair. “I’m just….”
“Worried. I know.” She gave me a kind smile. “I’ll let the nurse know that you’re waiting to see her.” Her gaze landed on the blood dripping from my knuckles. “In the meantime, I suggest you go and clean yourself up.”
She pointed in the direction of the restrooms where I retreated and washed up, avoiding the mirror above the sink.
My phone rang as I walked out the door, and I answered without checking the screen.
“You okay?” Brody asked.
“Yeah. No. Fuck.” I grabbed the back of my neck and tried to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It wasn’t working.
“What’s going on?”
I told him what happened, what little I knew, which was jack shit, and when I finished, he cursed under his breath.
“I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll see you soon.”
He wasn’t joking. He must have broken every speed limit to get here because it felt like we’d just hung up when he strode into the ER and stopped in front of me. It looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He ran his hand through his messy hair and glanced around the waiting room. “You see her yet?”
I scowled. “We just hung up the damn phone. No, I haven’t seen her yet. And it’s fucking killing me.”
I leaned against the wall and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I should have gotten there sooner. I should have been there.”
“Hey.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You had no way of knowing this would happen to her.”
Whateverthiswas. “I had a bad feeling in my gut. Should have listened to it.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. That won’t help anyone.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to me, and we watched the EMTs roll another patient in. An elderly woman. I’d positioned myself near the door to see who was coming in by ambulance. So far, I hadn’t seen any men who could be responsible for beating the shit out of my girlfriend.
