“Reid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m part of the trauma team caring for Noah.”
“Can I see him?”
“Not yet.”
“What happened to him?”
She closed the door. “He sustained several injuries in the collision. There are fractures to his left arm and the right side of his pelvis. He has internal bleeding from a damaged spleen, and the surgeons are addressing that now.”
“All right.”
The words felt detached from meaning. Bones could be fixed. Organs could be repaired. Medicine knew how to do those things.
Dana watched me closely.
“He also suffered a significant head injury.”
My vision narrowed.
“What does significant mean?”
“There was bleeding around the brain. The neurosurgical team is operating to relieve the pressure.”
“Is he going to live?”
“I can’t answer that yet.”
“He was alive when they brought him in.”
“Yes.”
“So he’s going to live.”
“I know you need certainty. I wish I could give it to you.”
I walked to the wall because my legs no longer trusted themselves. The paint was textured beneath my palm.
“Does he have allergies?” she asked.
“No.”
“Any medications?”
“No. Sometimes ibuprofen. He had antibiotics last winter for an infected cut, but he finished them.”
“Previous surgeries?”
“Appendix when he was nineteen. Shoulder repair at twenty-four. Right shoulder. He has two screws.”
She wrote everything down.
“Blood type?”
“O positive.”
