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I huffed a noise that would’ve been a laugh if I’d had the energy. I had told my grandmother flat-out that I didn’t want her in my life anymore, so maybe I should consider her refusal to come see me as a way of respecting my wishes.
But that’d be giving her way too much damn credit.
“I’m sorry, Talia.”
Philip rested his wrinkled hand over mine, and I looked down at it, noticing the IV placed in my arm, the small tube held in place by medical tape. A blanket covered my body, but I could see dark bruises marring the skin of my forearm.
“It’s okay.” I swallowed, forcing down the bile that tried to rise up my throat. “What… happened? I mean, I know I got into an accident, but what happened to me?”
I didn’t hurt, but that fact didn’t make me feel much better. I knew what pain meds could do, and the way I still felt disconnected from my body made me worry. Just because I couldn’t feel them, it didn’t mean the injuries weren’t there.
Philip’s face slackened, his cheeks almost seeming to droop as he glanced down at my body, hidden by the hospital gown and the sheet. “You—”
“Ah, you’re awake.”
The voice from the door pulled my focus away from my grandfather’s haggard face, and I looked over to see the same doctor who had spoken to me after Philip’s surgery.
So I’m definitely at Roseland Medical, then.
Philip glanced up too, and we both watched the doctor stride across the room.
Doctor Garrett checked the monitors near my bed, then picked up my chart, flipping through it as he met my gaze. “How do you feel, Talia? Do you know what day it is? Do you know where you are?”
“Roseland Medical,” I scratched out. “And it’s… Tuesday? No, Wednesday.”
It’d been Tuesday when I got into my new car and headed up the coastal highway to meet the Princes at Finn’s house. But unless I was imagining waking up in the dark to the sound of Mason and Cole’s voices, at least one night had passed since then.
“Yes. Good.” Doctor Garrett bobbed his head in a nod as he wrote something on my chart. “And just for good measure, what year is it?”
I almost rolled my eyes as I told him, but I knew exactly why he was asking. He was checking me for signs of brain damage or memory loss. I didn’t think I had any though—at least, not beyond the details of my accident and the time since, which were all a bit fuzzy in my mind.
He nodded again, making another mark on my chart. Then he looked up, meeting my gaze. He had salt-and-pepper hair, which he seemed a little young for, and a kind face with a thick nose and a cleft chin.
“You’re lucky to be alive, Talia. Air bags and seat belts save lives, and in this case, they definitely can be credited with saving yours.” A small smile tilted his lips as he added, “As some might say, thank fuck for seat belts.”
Philip’s eyebrows pulled together, and he drew himself up a little, casting a disapproving frown at the doctor. I knew what Doctor Garrett was referencing though. Oh, thank fuck had been my response to the news that my grandpa had come out of his surgery okay several weeks ago. I was impressed Doctor Garrett remembered that—and it could only be a good sign that I remembered it—but Philip looked deeply offended that a doctor at this elite medical facility was swearing in front of his granddaughter.
I could’ve told him Doctor Garrett was doing what adults did to kids all the time. Trying to gain my trust by proving he was “cool” and “hip” or whatever.
But my brain was still hung up on the words the man had said before that. The part about me almost dying. Had the wreck been that bad?
My stomach felt like it dropped out of my body as I remembered the sickening feeling of the car’s wheels lifting off the road, of the world outside tilting and spinning dangerously as the little blue vehicle rolled.
I closed my eyes for a second, fighting down the images. When I opened them, Doctor Garrett was regarding me seriously.
“The seat belt and airbags kept your body from absorbing as much of the impact as it might’ve otherwise, and they prevented you from receiving worse whiplash. The strain in your neck was mild, but you hit the left side of your head and received several lacerations along the left side of your body. The seat belt strap itself cut into your shoulder, leaving further lacerations and some significant bruising.”
He stepped forward, perching on the end of the bed and balancing his chart against his leg with one hand.
“You were pressing on the brake when you wrecked, weren’t you?”
Wordlessly, I nodded, trying to mesh what he’d told me so far with what I felt. The hit on my head explained the bandages over my left temple. And judging
by the bruises and bandages on my left arm, that side of my body must’ve absorbed more impact than the right.
“I thought so. The most significant injuries you suffered were to your right leg. You received compound fractures in both your tibia and fibula and fractured a bone in your ankle as well. We went in surgically and were able to set the bones and secure them. You’ve got a few screws in your leg that will stay there to help reinforce the damaged bones and secure them until they’re healed and beyond.”
What?
