Page 4 of See My Words

“Anyone here for a Mr. Ashworth?” a woman dressed in scrubs called. “Scott Ashworth?”

Rylan jumped up and, with Minh at his side, hurried to her. “I am. We are.”

The nurse looked them over. “Only one of you is allowed back at a time.”

Rylan touched Minh’s shoulder. “You go. You know him best.”

“Maybe.” Minh backed away, toward the chairs. “But you’re the one he needs.” He made a shooing motion. “Go on now.”

The nurse turned to lead the way, and, with a grateful glance back at Minh, Rylan followed. There were lots of noise and murmured conversations going on in each emergency bay as they passed, machines beeping stridently, a few groans of pain.

At last, they reached a room set off to the side near the back, and the nurse whisked back the ugly paisley curtain surrounding it. “Mr. Ashworth is in here. He’s got a lot of painkillers on board at the moment, but he’s semi-awake. Dr. Parnell will be in as soon as he can to talk to you.” She swished away.

“Scott!” Rylan ran to the side of the bed and tried not to gasp in horror. Scott’s face was hideously bruised, his eyes already blackening. Blood was caked around his nostrils and the corners of his mouth, and his jaw looked—weird, sort of lopsided, despite the bandages wrapped around his chin and the top of his head to hold things in place. No sign of a breathing tube anymore, thank fuck.

“Hey,” Scott slurred, and a thin ribbon of bloody drool trickled out to dampen the bandage at his chin. “Ryl—”

“Shhh. Don’t try to talk.” Rylan hooked a nearby chair with his foot and dragged it next to the bed before sitting down on it and reaching for one of Scott’s hands to thread their fingers together. “I’m here. Minh’s in the waiting room, too, if you want to see him later.”

Scott blinked woozily in acknowledgment, and for the next twenty minutes or so, Rylan sat holding his hand, watching him doze in and out. The curtain being yanked back startled him, and he turned to see a harried-looking, bald man in a white coat standing there.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Parnell,” the man said, holding his hand out for Rylan to shake. After the introductions were over, Dr. Parnell walked over to the bedside and peered down at a sleeping Scott, lifting one and then the other eyelid gently to check his pupils with a small light.

“How is he?” Rylan could hear how husky his voice sounded, and he cleared his throat.

“Probable concussion,” the doctor said, “but the good news is, testing shows no evidence of a skull fracture.”

Rylan blew out a breath of relief. “Thank God. The cut on his head?”

“Twenty stitches,” was the reply, and Rylan winced. “However,” Dr. Parnell went on, “he does have a jaw fracture that will most likely require surgery.”

“What—” Rylan squeezed Scott’s hand when he noticed he was awake again and listening. “What type of surgery?”

“A maxillofacial surgeon will have to make that determination, and we have a call out for a consult, which probably won’t be until sometime tomorrow. But basically, like with any other broken bone, the fracture needs to be realigned and fixed in place so it can heal.”

Scott made a sort of incoherent mumbling sound, and Rylan asked, “You can’t put a cast over his face, so what are you talking about? Wiring his jaw shut?”

Dr. Parnell nodded. “Yes. Depending on what the surgeon says. Maybe a plate and screws as well.”

Scott moaned, and Rylan rubbed his chest soothingly. “The thing is, he’s—uh, he’s a model and—”

“Ah, I see.” Dr. Parnell gathered up his charts. “Well, the swelling and bruising look scary now, but there aren’t any deep facial lacerations. The scar on his head will be covered by his hair once it grows back. We had to shave that area, of course, to reach the wound and stitch it.”

Scott closed his eyes as if in pain, and the doctor said, his tone sympathetic, “The surgeon will be able to answer the more definitive questions you have about the reduction procedure and healing time. Right now, just get some rest. We’ll have you moved up to a room as soon as possible.”

Then he was gone.

When Scott opened his eyes again, they were swimming with tears. Rylan wiped them away with his thumbs, whispering, “Hey, you’re going to be okay. It’s okay.” Then he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Scott’s nose. “I’m not going anywhere. Minh’s here, too, and I bet by now all your friends are out there waiting to see you.”

Scott didn’t—couldn’t—answer, and Rylan just sat with him until he drifted off to sleep once again. A passing nurse poked her head in and said a room should be ready for him within the next hour, so Rylan stood and stretched, intending to head back to the waiting room to fill Minh and the others in.

When he pushed through the doors, he expected to see the plastic chairs crowded with people anxiously hoping for word, and he gaped in disbelief. Minh was still there, slumped with his head against the wall as he tried to doze. Patients were scattered throughout as they waited to be seen, but other than that—no one. Even Chris was nowhere in sight.

Rylan strode over and shook Minh’s shoulder. “Hey,” he hissed. “Where is everyone?” Minh sat up with a start.

“Who? Your friend had to take off, but he said for you to call him anytime if you need anything.”

Rylan gestured around the half-empty room. “All Scott’s friends! Corey? Simon? Anyone?”