Page 107 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
His mother.
They’d comforted him like this when Sorcha had died. He’d gotten the call to come to the hospital. He’d rushed over, knowing only that she’d been in an accident. When he arrived, his parents had been there waiting—to tell him she was dead.
They started to wheel Angie out. He followed her, barely registering that he was moving. It seemed everyone in the bar went with them.
“Who’s her family?” the medical tech asked.
“I am,” Bets said, rushing forward. “Carrick, I’ll see you at the hospital.”
He watched as they loaded her into the ambulance. The sirens tore at his ears as they drove off.
“Carrick.”
Jamie’s voice.
He bent over and vomited in the street.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Everything was throbbing.
Angie cracked open her eyes and winced at the light, moaning. Her cousin and sister lurched out of the chairs they were sitting in on either side of her hospital bed.
She was in thehospital?
“Good,” Bets said, touching her face gently. “You’re finally awake.”
“Thank God,” Megan said, taking her hand covered in plastic tubes. “I was so worried.”
She squinted, the pain searing her temple. “I fell off the bar. Those shoes…”
“Yes,” Bets said. “Plus, the excitement and my idiot dance moves.”
“And the champagne…” Megan said.
“It could have happened to anyone,” Bets insisted.
But it had happened to her. She looked down at her white hospital gown covered in millions of tiny blue dots, like a tube of paint had exploded uniformly. She had an IV and a hospital bracelet. She didn’t feel connected to her body. The meds? Then she saw the black sleeve on her right arm. “Oh, my God! Did I break my arm?”
She painted with that arm!
“No, thank God.” Bets blew out a breath, moving her short bangs. “You’ll be black and blue from the fall for a while. The doctor wants you in the sling for at least ten days, but if it hurts to move it, another week. Then you need to do some exercises.”
“The biggest concern is your concussion,” Megan said, her voice strained. “That’s why they want to keep you overnight. You’re going to have to rest for a while, Angie. No screen time. No bright light or loud noise. No—”
“No painting for a while then.” The thought depressed her. Painting had become a daily thing again, something she needed as much as food and water.
“No art classes either,” Megan said softly. “Since you hit your head so hard. You needed ten stitches. Mom says you’re lucky it wasn’t worse after she watched the video of you falling.”
Angie looked at her sister. She was that pale gray again. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Megan nodded. “Ollie was scared too.”
Her heart clutched. “I hate that. Where is he?”
“Kade and Liam have him out picking wildflowers for you even though it’s late,” Bets said. “We thought giving him a task was better than having him here at the hospital.”
She made herself ask. “Where’s Carrick?”
