Page 96 of Eight Years Gone

Finally, they made it to the Critical Care wing, stepping out to find Paul waiting.

“Grace.” Paul stepped forward, hugging her.

She returned his embrace—the tall, health-club-fit man she’d known her entire life. “Paul. How’s he doing? How’s my dad?”

Paul nodded to Jagger, holding out his hand. “Jagger.”

Jagger returned his greeting. “Paul.”

“It’s still touch and go,” Paul said, blowing out a long breath—his typically olive skin pale and drawn. “Doctor Hardy and Doctor Shed, the trauma and neurosurgeon who worked on your dad, were paged into another surgery about thirty minutes ago, but I can tell you what I know.”

She nodded. Because the not knowing was almost too much to bear. “Please.”

Paul sighed again. “Steve’s had significant internal bleeding. They gave him a massive transfusion and removed his spleen to stop the hemorrhaging.”

“Oh, God,” Grace whispered, gripping Jagger’s hand as he offered it.

“His femur and pelvis are fractured along with most of the left and right sides of his rib cage,” Paul continued. “There was some head trauma, hon. Your dad’s in a coma right now.”

Grace shook her head with the next blow. This wasn’t happening. Even when Paul had given her no illusion that her father’s condition was anything but bad, she’d let herself believe that everything would be okay once he made it out of surgery. “A coma?”

Paul nodded. “His impact with the car was significant. He has some swelling on the brain.”

Her legs felt like jelly as the room spun. “Is he— Will he have brain damage?”

Paul pressed his lips together in a firm line. “It’s early, Grace. Let’s get him through the next forty-eight hours.”

Jagger pulled her against him with his arm around her waist. “Can Grace see him?”

Paul inhaled. “Steve needs his rest, but I’ll see what I can do to make that happen.”

Grace tried to smile. “Thank you, Paul.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Grace shook her head as she met Jagger’s gaze. There were tears—a waterfall of them she needed to cry—but they wouldn’t come. “A coma,” she whispered.

He wrapped her up in a hug. “He’s strong. And stubborn. Those are good things in a situation like this.”

She nodded as she returned his embrace, clinging to him, wanting to believe those qualities were enough. “I need to see him.”

“Paul has pull around here. Your dad isn’t just any patient.”

She nodded again because Jagger spoke the truth. Her father was incredibly well respected in the medical community. Everyone knew who Steve Evans was. Tonight she would use that to her advantage.

She glanced toward the empty waiting area, relieved that Veronica wasn’t sitting in one of the chairs. She’d heard her dad and stepmother divorced two years after Logan’s death.

“Grace?” Paul came back with a nurse by his side. “They’ll let you see him. But just for ten minutes.”

Grace looked at Jagger with the next wave of relief and terror.

“I’ll be right here.”

“Okay.”

“Follow me, sweetie,” the older woman said as they moved past the wooden doors down a quiet hallway. “We’ll get you back to visit with your dad.”

“How’s he doing?”

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