Page 50 of Only With Me
And that sucks because I enjoyed her company and talking to someone I wasn’t related to.
“Wilder? You in here?” I call out, walking deeper into the retreat barn.
He told me he was going to eat at The Lodge, but his truck is still parked outside. It’s possible he walked, though.
Grabbing one of the rakes, I peek into the stalls to see where he left off so I can continue. After I check into the fifth one that’s been completed, I head to the next and am startled to find him passed out on the ground.
“Wilder!” I shout, tossing the rake and opening the door. “Hey, wake up.”
I kick his leg, but he doesn’t move.
“What the hell, man? You’re sleepin’ in horse shit. That’s a new low, even for you.”
I move around him, getting a better view of his face, and realize something’s wrong. There’s something around his mouth.
Kneeling, I listen to see if he’s breathing and feel for a pulse. It’s there, but his breathing is shallow.
“Wilder, wake up…” I shake him and then look for any bleeding around his legs, but there isn’t any.
When I look on the other side next to him, I find a pile of vomit.
“Oh fuck. What’d you take?” I murmur even though he can’t hear me. “We gotta get you to the ER.”
Waiting for an ambulance will take too long, so I haul him over my shoulder and carry him to my truck. His body is limp as I put him in the passenger seat and buckle him in.
“Wilder, if you can hear me, I need you to hang on, okay? I’m takin’ you to the hospital.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I speed down the country roads. I call my dad and tell him to meet me there, then send a voice memo to our sibling group chat to tell them.
When Wilder got to work this morning, he was in a good mood, which he usually is anyway, so nothing seemed off to me. As far as I know, he wasn’t hungover or drinking for breakfast, so my mind is spiraling with what caused him to lose consciousness.
I called the emergency room to give them a heads-up that we were on the way, so once I arrive, they have a stretcher waiting for him.
“He’s been out cold since I found him twenty-five minutes ago,” I explain.
“His pulse is weak,” one of the nurses states. “Stay here and we’ll get you when he’s stabilized.”
The three of them take him away before I even have a chance to say anything to him.
Not that I had any idea of what I’d tell him.
Please don’t die.
I love you.
I pace in the waiting room, reading through the sibling group chat and their responses. Though I don’t have much of an update, I tell them we made it and he’s in their care now.
Tripp: What do you think happened?
Landen: Was he still breathing?
Noah: Did you check his thighs?
Landen: Any idea how long he was passed out before you found him?
They’re worried sick about him just like I am. It’s been years since his last emergency hospital visit, but we’re still traumatized from the last time.
Waylon: When I left for lunch, he was fine. Yes, he’s breathing but irregularly. And I did check. No blood from what I could see. No idea how long or what happened. Hoping to find out.
