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“Thanks for coming, sis.”
“What can I do to help? Have you called her sister?” I pull back and look at her.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Trent . . .” She inclines her head. “She’s her sister.”
“Fine, call Baker, have him contact her.”
Ivy nods her head and walks toward Cyrus. I turn away from them, granting them privacy.
Time goes by. One hour, to be exact. I know because I studied the clock on the wall as if it would tell me the secret of life.
Finally, the door opens, and a nurse smiles at me.
It’s my time to go in.
I take a step inside where Payton is lying on the bed unconscious, hooks and wires attached to her.
She looks so helpless.
Fragile.
It feels like I’m being stabbed as I look at her.
My emotions are all over the place.
I want to scream. I want to punch something. But most of all, I want to pull her into my lap, kiss her, and tell her I’ll take care of her.
Bruises litter her face.
Red welts, scrapes, and cuts from where her head hit the pavement.
I continue to look at her.
My heart lurches in my chest with each bandage I see. There is one on her head. Her wrist. Her leg is elevated and wrapped as well.
With the concussion and bruised ribs, I imagine she will be holed up for at least a few weeks in my place.
Payton doesn’t open her eyes as I make my approach.
I’m sure whatever drug they gave her for the pain has knocked her out.
I take the empty chair beside her bed. Again, I’m surprised that she doesn’t wake up and am slightly unnerved as well, but I sit by her bedside.
Her hand is in mine, my gaze glued to her face when I hear a groan.
Her eyes are still closed, but they start to blink.
With confusion still heavy in her gaze, she stares up at me, and when her eyes go wide, the machine next to the bed starts to beep faster. Her heart is beating rapidly.
“Payton, you’re okay,” I promise. “You’re safe.”
She tries to speak, but her words don’t make sense. It’s as if she’s gargling rocks.
“It wasn’t me, Payton. I was still in my car across the street. I ran to you as fast as I could.”
“The-the car.”
