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My other hand rose, pressing against my head.
No gauze.
I wasn't wrapped.
The fall, the impact, it hadn't caused any serious injury. Except likely a concussion.
Okay.
I was okay.
And safe.
Safe was even more important than okay.
Hospitals had security.
No one was going to get to me.
My hand moved out, finding the call button for the nurse's station. There was only a short pause before I heard the squish of Crocs on the floor.
We weren't allowed to wear Crocs at my job. A couple people disobeyed that rule, but I always heeded it. I kind of envied the bright pink color of hers though, in comparison to my plain white work shoes.
"Hey there, look who is finally awake," she said, giving me a kind smile as she moved to look at my monitor.
"I need to call someone."
"You had no identification on you when you were brought in. I'm glad you have someone who can be here for you."
"Concussion and a broken arm," I said.
"And dehydration," she agreed, nodding. "The doctor will be in to discuss everything with you when he has a moment.
"That won't be necessary. I want to sign myself out," I said, sitting up, feeling the pounding in my head.
"We really wouldn't advise that until you have met with the doctor."
"I know," I agreed, nodding. "But I want to leave. Can you draw up the paperwork? Can I use the phone while you do that?"
She gave me a long-suffering look, but pointed to the phone on the nightstand, and made her way to the hallway.
Thank God I knew one number by heart.
Because Huck was a Luddite who refused to ever change anything.
"Hello?" he barked into my ear, making me wince as the headache shot through my temples.
"Huck." My voice came out small, tight. Needy. I could even hear a thickness, hinting at tears.
"Fuck. Gus. Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I'm at a hospital. I'm fine!" I rushed to add, hearing his breath hiss inward. "I'm fine. I just... I'm waiting to sign myself out. I need someone to come—"
"Don't fucking sign yourself out. What happened? Where are you hurt?"
"I broke my arm. And have a concussion. And need some Gatorade. I'm fine," I insisted, even as the tears welled up and slipped down my cheeks. "Can you please just come and get me? I... I want to go home," I added, sniffling.
"Shit. Don't cry. We're on our way," he assured me. "West and me," he added, making my heart surge upward. "Tell us where you are."
I scrambled up, reaching for the chart at the foot of the bed, pulling it out, finding the name of the hospital, rattling it off.
"We are on our way, Gus," Huck assured me.
"Auggie," West's voice met my ear, making a pathetic sob burst out. "Oh, pretty girl, don't cry," he begged, trying hard to sound upbeat. He failed. But I appreciated the effort.
"I want a puppy," I burst out, making silence meet my ear for a long minute.
"You can have ten puppies," West assured me.
"A little, fluffy one," I specified. "To keep me company while I recover."
"It's done. I will get Remy on it right now."
"And a foot massage."
"As soon as I get you home."
"And and..."
"Anything, sweetheart. Anything," he told me, keeping me company while I signed my paperwork, while I was disconnected from the tubes, while I was given a pair of clothes from the lost and found, then allowed to walk myself down to the elevator, and into the lobby, where I sat down and waited.
It wasn't long.
Half an hour later, Huck and West burst through the doors, looking harried and out of place in the calm, quiet space.
They both rushed at me, but West was the one to carefully scoop me up, cradle me to his chest, carry me outside, and hold me on his lap in the backseat of the car.
"It's okay. You're okay."
"Gus," Huck called a few minutes later from the front seat of my car.
It was a question.
And I knew what he was asking.
"Two guys. One of them impersonated West. Had the bike and helmet and cut. I didn't realize until it was too late. Someone hit me on the head. I woke up in a trunk. I managed to mostly keep my wits about me. Which is a miracle since I can't seem to manage that on a normal day, let alone under intense pressure..."
"Gus, focus," Huck demanded.
"Right. Two guys. European, but you know I'm not good at accents. One has a stab wound to the cheek now. Another to the wrist."
"That's my girl," West said, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"They had me down by the Everglades somewhere. One of them twisted my arm. Just a small fracture. But when I got away and tried to climb a tree, I broke it fully. I spent the night up there with Berton."
