Page 131 of Full Tilt
“He saved me, Holt. He saved me from being attacked back when I was convinced he was a bad guy. But he turned everything around and showed me who he really is. And now …” I bury my face into his chest. “And now he could change all over again. I need him to be okay. Hehasto be okay.”
Holt runs a palm down my hair, cupping the back of my head in his huge hand. “Look at me, Jen.”
I pull back a few inches and stare up at him.
“I promise you that nothing is going to happen to Tommy. There are too many people in this room willing him to pull through and live a long, happy, and healthy life.” He rests his chin on top of my head, releasing a slow, calming breath that infiltrates my own panic. “Me included.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
JENNA
“At what point can we expect him to fully wake up?” Sitting next to Tommy’s bedside, the place where I’ve been planted for the past five days since the hit, I repeat the same question to his doctor I’ve asked over and over again.
He adjusts the oxygen mask on Tommy’s face and then walks across to a tray table, picking up Tommy’s medical file and taking down multiple notes.
“It’s hard to say, Miss Miller. But Tommy is a strong athlete and is already showing signs that he doesn’t need the oxygen mask. He’s responded well to being removed from the ventilator. Better than I anticipated, in fact.”
That’s the best news I’ve received since I walked into this hospital, and I pull out my phone to text Helen the update. She’s back at Tommy’s place, cleaning.
Like mother, like son.
I set my phone down on the edge of Tommy’s mattress and ask the doctor just as he turns to leave the room, “Is there anything more I can do to help?”
I focus back on Tommy. He looks so peaceful despite the fight his body has been—and still is—going through.
“With the increased leg and facial movements we’ve seen over the past forty-eight hours, I would suggest that Tommy’s consciousness is becoming more aware. While he cannot see anything, he may be able to hear you. Lots of patients have reported this when they’ve fully woken from a coma. To reorient him, you may want to speak with him directly and remind him that you and his family and friends are all here.”
So, basically, I need to keep doing everything I have been since he was put into the ambulance.
I offer the doctor an acknowledging smile as he turns to leave.
When the door closes behind him, all I’m left with is silence and incessant beeping from the machines that have helped keep my boyfriend alive. I’m grateful to every person and piece of equipment that has played its role, but I know there’s only so much medicine can do. Now it’s down to Tommy to wake up and confirm what the scans have all shown.
That there is no significant sign of brain damage.
My phone lights up with an incoming message, and I click into it, expecting a reply from Helen.
Collins
Jenna, since I know you’ll be nowhere else but at his bedside right now, I need you to tell your boyfriend something …
I actually went to the gym today. That’s right. I did exercise. I’m that stressed out over all of this. So, for the love of God and to save myself from having to go through that ordeal ever again, can he please wake the fuck up now and be okay? TIA.
I snort a laugh to myself.
“Tommy,” I whisper, squeezing his good hand gently, “Collins is exercising—she’s that twisted up over you. So, you should know that’s how much you are loved around here.”
I wait for a response or sign that he’s heard me, but nothing comes. I know he can hear, and I know the doctor is expecting him to wake at any time.
Keeping his oxygen mask in place, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. I’m surprised he hasn’t developed sores from where I’ve kissed him that often.
“Please, please wake up, Tommy. I miss you. So fucking much.”
Picking up my phone, I open YouTube and search for a song I haven’t yet played him. “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath.
“I meant what I said that day in your car,” I tell him. “The lyrics of this song will always remind me of you. But not in the way I know you now. They’re who you were when I met you.”
I stand from his bed and pick up his comb, parting his hair to one side and styling it in the way I know he likes best.
