Page 53 of Forever Yours

Worry overcame the pain I was in. Where the hell was Julien?

Fallon pressed a button that called the nurse’s station, then got up and busied himself with fluffing my pillow and tucking the starchy bedsheet around my legs. It was uncharacteristic for him to dote or fuss, which was why it was so damn endearing to see.

“I’m good.” Jesus, my voice sounded horrible.

“Well, I sure as fuck am not,” Fallon replied, then stepped out of the way when the hospital door clicked open, and a nurse and doctor walked inside the room.

But it was the uniformed officer standing at the threshold that caught my attention.

“Dad.”

I burst into tears. I couldn’t stop them. At that moment, I was a scared little boy needing his daddy to tell him everything was going to be okay.

Within seconds, his thick, solid arms were holding me, and his tears were soaking into my hair.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m Dr. Li. If you could give me a second to examine him.”

Dad shifted to the side of the bed, but otherwise didn’t move. “Who did this?”

His question was directed at Fallon, his tone menacing. I’d never heard my dad sound so angry before.

Fallon leaned against the wall and took out a stick of gum. “Let the doctor finish, then we’ll talk.”

An unspoken nuance passed between them because Dad didn’t say anything else.

I mindlessly followed the doctor’s instructions as she checked me out and asked me questions. The penlight in the eyes was the worst since my head felt like it was going to explode right off my neck. And what was with the pain scale? How could I quantify my pain level from one to ten when it felt like a million?

After several tortuous minutes of being poked and prodded, the nurse adjusted my drip as the doctor swiped through her tablet.

“The neurologist on call tonight is Dr. Singh. He’ll drop by shortly.”

“Why?” I asked. The headache I had was bad, but nothing that some sleep and a few ibuprofen couldn’t handle.

“You have a grade-one concussion. The CT showed no brain bleed, but I’ve ordered an MRI just to be on the safe side.”

She continued talking, saying words I didn’t absorb, like cognitive, vestibular, fatigue, migraines, mood swings, memory loss, post traumatic, maxillary, mandibular—the list of medical terms kept coming.

“My face is broken?”

Stupid question, but I needed clear answers.

“No. Just bruising and swelling that will take a few days to go down.” She smiled, trying to be reassuring.

So basically, I shouldn’t look in the mirror anytime soon. Got it.

Since my left arm had the IV line butterflied into it, I gently touched my stomach with my right hand. “He kicked me a couple of times.”

Dad physically flinched.

“No broken ribs. No internal bleeding. In layman’s terms, you’ll be feeling it, though, for a while. The contusions you received are pretty bad, but nothing time won’t heal. We’ll keep you overnight, and if everything still looks good tomorrow, you’ll be discharged.”

“What about the concussion?” Dad asked.

With a comforting smile, she clutched her tablet to her chest. “Unless something sudden arises, Elijah should take it easy for the rest of the week. I’ll go over everything in greater detail tomorrow once I have the MRI results.” The doctor excused the nurse and waited for her to leave before she turned to Fallon. “The detectives are in the waiting room. They’ll want to ask Elijah some questions as soon as possible.”

“I’ll handle it.”

She nodded and tucked her tablet under her arm, then gently patted my foot. “I’ll be back to check on you later. If you need anything, just press the call button.”

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