Not wanting to leave Noah's side for even a minute, I promise to eat and drink throughout the day. Confident I'm not lying, he transfers me from an inpatient to an outpatient, then permits me to leave.
On route to the intensive care unit, Jacob and I detour to a vending machine in the corridor to stack up on supplies. It's not exactly a balanced diet, but it is the best we can do in our situation.
Once my belly is full of sweets, I press the buzzer on the intensive care unit entrance door to advise the nursing staff someone is waiting in the corridor.
I step back when a middle-aged nurse with kind eyes unlocks the double doors. “Who are you here to see, darling?”
“Noah Taylor.” My voice is as shaky as my thighs, butI pretend a sugar-high is responsible for my jitters instead of nerves.
After checking the sheet of paper she’s grasping, the nurse steps to the side, wordlessly granting me entry.“Okay, darling, come in.”
When I break through the double doors, Jacob’s cell phone shrills loudly in his pocket. The nursetskshim before straying her narrowed eyes to the sign that advises all electronic devices are to be switched off in this section of the hospital.
“Sorry.” Although Jacob is apologetic, he still answers his ringing phone.
After thoroughly cleaning my hands, I enter the hub of the intensive care unit. Noah is in the same station I left him in hours ago. Wanting to sit as close to him as possible, but untrusting of my shaky legs, I drag over a hard plastic chair. The heaviness on my shoulders eases when I scan his face. Other than his eyes occasionally moving underneath their lids, he doesn’t appear to be in any pain. He looks like he’s resting.
When I gently grab ahold of his right hand, my brows furrow. His wrist is wrapped in a bulky bandage. It wasn’t like that before I fainted.
My eyes float up when a soft voice says, "He had a shard of glass from the taxi's window embedded in his wrist. It went unnoticed during his surgery. The doctors removed it without needing to sedate him, but we won't know if he'll have any restrictions in the movement of his hand until it heals.” The nurse who let me in checks Noah’s IV line. “I need to give him some more sedation.”
After smiling to assure me she isn't hurting him, she pierces his IV line with a needle filled with clear liquid. As the fluid is dispersed through Noah's veins, the rapid movements of his eyes lessen, and the strain on his face physically relaxes.
Once the needle is empty, she places it onto a medical trolley on my left before raising her kind eyes to mine. “You can talk to him. You never know, he may hear you.”
I wait for her to leave me alone with Noah before devoting my attention back to him. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say.
After a few minutes of silent deliberations, I murmur, “I’m here waiting for you to come back to me, Noah. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I take a second to ease the crackle of my words before pushing on. “I don’t care how harsh the weather forecast may be, when you wake up, we’ll jump off the waterfall at Stoney Creek again. You just need to wake up.Please. I can’t do this without you.”
When my fifteen-minute block of visitation is over, I carefully press my lips to Noah’s cheek. Guilt swamps me as my heart races in turmoil. I hate leaving him alone, lying defenseless in a hospital bed. I understand the nurses and doctors have a job to do, but can’t that be done without adding more stress to an already volatile situation?
Jacob greets me with an uneasy smile when I exit the double doors of the intensive care unit. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Nodding, I follow him into the waiting room. Ryan is standing at the back of the space, talking on his cell phone. When he spots Jacob and me, his eyes silently question if everything is okay. When Jacob nods, Ryan warily smiles before he returns to his phone conversation.
“I just got off the phone with Cormack. The record company is in the process of having Noah transferred to a private hospital in Ravenshoe. Cormack said they’re organizing for a neurologist from New York to fly in and assess Noah. They are making sure he has the best team of specialists looking after him,” Jacob advises as a smile tugs on his full lips.
Knowing Noah will have a dedicated team taking care of him awards me a small amount of comfort, but my stomach won’t quit swirling. I doubt it will settle until Noah makes a full recovery.
“This is good news, Emily,” Jacob assures, uneased by the groove burrowed between my brows. “Specialists from around the world are being flown in to ensure his every whim is taken care of. You can smile about this. It is good news.”
I muster up my best fake grin, but before I can add words to my assurance I am happy, Ryan joins Jacob and me at the side of the waiting room. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Jacob, you have my number, so please keep me updated on Noah’s progress.”
When Jacob nods, Ryan turns his gaze to me. He stares at me for several heart-thrashing seconds, appearing as if he wants to say something, but incapable of speaking. I squeeze his hand in assurance. We’ve only met in passing, but I know he cares for Noah. He’s watched over him since Chris’s death, so I’ll be forever indebted to him.
After squeezing my hand back, Ryan briskly strides out of the waiting room.
Noah, Jacob, and I aren't offered the same reprieve.
6
Early the next morning, Slater, Marcus, and Nick arrive at the hospital looking as exhausted as I feel. While Marcus offers me his condolences with a hug, Jacob updates Nick and Slater on Noah’s condition. His condition hasn’t changed since they brought him in. His brain is still swollen, causing his comatose state, but the bleeding he initially had was successfully repaired.
Hopefully, with time, Noah’s brain will return to its original size, then he’ll wake up. The doctors say they can’t give us any guarantees, but the fact he made it through the first twenty-four hours is a good sign.
Unfortunately, because Noah is in the intensive care unit, only his next of kin and direct relatives can visit him. Jacob told the nurses he’s Noah’s brother, Chris, so they let him in, but Slater, Marcus, and Nick will have to wait until Noah is transferred before they can visit him.
Jacob and I make sure one of us is sitting with Noah during the intensive care unit’s strict visiting hours. I understand the hospital has set policies, but they need to be more lenient for patients in critical condition. The guilt we feel leaving Noah unattended for hours at a time is overwhelming.
