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“Can I see her?” I ask, ignoring everyone around me.
“I’d normally tell you to wait until she’s brought to her room, but you’re not looking too good, Mr. Hayes. How about you let us take you back to your wife and we can look you over too?”
“Take care of my wife, and I’ll be fine, doc. Just make sure she’s okay.”
Becket helps me back into the wheelchair, and Ashlyn calls out for me.
I stop and look at her.
I should feel guilty because I didn’t offer to let her go back there to see her daughter, but I can’t.
I need Lindy.
I need to feel her breathe.
“Take care of my baby, Easton.”
I nod, feeling like I already failed, but I don’t say anything as the doctor moves behind me and wheels me into Lindy’s room.
The room is cold and quiet. The hum of the machines, the only sound.
The doctor wheels me over to her bed, and I rest my head against her arm as a nurse comes in and checks Lindy over. Then she looks at me, and I shake my head. She looks like she’s going to fight with me but changes her mind and leaves us alone.
I press my lips against Lindy’s limp hand. “I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry I couldn’t save you. Please be okay. I can’t do this without you.” I drop my head down and do something I haven’t done in fucking years.
I pray.
* * *
Lindy
The hum from the overhead lighting is the first thing I notice when I wake up.
The pain is the next thing.
“Lindy.” My mom’s voice pulls me further from the fog, and I open my eyes and try to focus.
“Mom.” I find her next to my bed, with Brandon behind her.
I’m in a hospital room.
The pieces of a fuzzy puzzle start slowly falling into place, and I remember the accident.
I remember being wheeled into the hospital and told they needed to take me into surgery.
“Easton?” I ask, and my mom points to the other side of my bed, where my husband’s head is laying on top of my hand. His arm is splinted, and his hair is a tangled mess.
“He hasn’t left your side since they wheeled you out of surgery last night. His doctors wanted him to go back to his room, but he refused. He followed you from the recovery room to this room once you were admitted and hasn’t moved since.”
My eyes fly open, and I lift my numb hand and run it over his hair. “Hockey boy,” I whisper, my throat dry and sore.
He doesn’t move.
“I don’t want to wake him up,” I tell Mom and Brandon.
“Oh, sweetheart. That man was ready to take on anyone who got in his way to get to you. He was barely out of surgery when he got himself down to the surgical floor to wait with us. Wake him up and show him you’re okay. That’s the best thing you can do for him. We’ll go find a nurse and tell her you’re up.”
Mom leans down and kisses my head. “I love you, Madeline. You’re never allowed to do this to me again, got it?”
