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Charlie wasn’t supposed to be on this side of medicine. He just wasn’t. He’d been there, done that with his grandfather. His mother had died instantly in her car wreck and his father had been ill for a while but, stubbornly, had died in his sleep at home rather than at a hospital where he could have received medical care. Only with his grandfather had Charlie sat at the hospital. He’d felt so helpless then.
He felt so helpless now.
Even more so as the nurse led him through to the recovery room where Savannah lay on the hospital bed. The scene that met him had his knees threatening to buckle.
Her face had multiple bruises and lacerations. Her left upper and lower eyelids were a purplish blue and significantly swollen. Her lower lip was swollen and busted in the middle. Her neck was in a stabilization brace. Her left leg was propped up on a pillow and covered with the white blanket that was tucked around her.
“This is Dr. Keele. He works in cardiology,” the nurse introduced him to the recovery room nurse who was hovering over Savannah.
The recovery nurse gave Charlie’s escort an odd look, one that clearly asked why he was there.
“I’m a friend of your patient,” he explained, realizing the woman wondered why the nurse was bringing a cardiologist to see her post-op vascular patient.
At his voice, Savannah’s eyes opened, her left only partially parting beneath her swollen lids. Her eye was bloodshot where capillaries had burst and bled, trapping the blood.
She didn’t speak, just touched her tongue to her lips as if to moisten them. The recovery room nurse, in tune with her patient, dabbed Savannah’s lips with a moist swab.
“There. That should help.”
Savannah moved slightly, as if trying to nod, then let out a soft moan.
“Don’t try moving right now other than to take some big, deep breaths,” the nurse instructed. “I’m going to step over here for a few minutes to give you a bit of privacy.” Her gaze met Charlie’s. “Make sure she keeps breathing deep.”
Charlie wasn’t sure he wanted to be left alone with Savannah. Then again, having the nurse observe their conversation couldn’t be a good thing either. Who knew what Savannah was going to say to him? She’d probably tell him to go to hell.
The past few hours, he’d felt as if that was where he’d been.
What did it matter what she said? She was alive, could say whatever she wanted, and he’d just be thankful that she had the ability to speak.
He stepped next to the hospital bed, placed his hand over hers, grateful for the warmth he felt there, for the lifeblood still flowing through her body.
“Dr. Trenton says you’re going to be okay,” he said, his thumb rubbing over her hand and his voice choking up. Should he touch her? How could he not? He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close and protect her from the whole world.
As if he could protect her.
He couldn’t. Just as he’d not been able to protect his mother. She’d died and it had been his fault.
He stood next to Savannah’s hospital bed, caressing her hand and wishing he knew what to say to make everything better.
Wishing he could take away her pain.
She stared at him from between her swollen eyelids that looked as if they were getting heavier and heavier. Her oxygen saturation alarm sounded, indicating that her level had dropped and earning them a concerned glance from the nurse.
“Take a deep breath, Savannah. You’ve got to breathe deep to keep your sats up.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she mumbled, but took several deep breaths after doing so.
“I just want you to be okay.”
“How can you say that?”
His heart cracked at her question.
“How can you think otherwise?” he countered.
“You left me.”
