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“Who knows?” I bite my tongue, trying not to laugh at his expression.
For the last three hours, Quinn has done her best to get our minds off waiting to hear news. There’s still an edge of tension floating around the room, but her efforts are working to a degree. Even Sheila and Dave have cracked a small smile. Her latest effort is to write the ‘boss’ of the Navy and explain their erroneous actions reporting the wrong sailor hurt.
Poor Morgan has only spent a few hours around us before today, and he’s probably regretting his decision to stay. Crystal, on the other hand, is encouraging Quinn in her endeavors to lighten the mood. I watch as every time she looks at him, his eyes melt. Even with my growing anxiety, I’m happy for them.
“Randolph family?” An older man in green scrubs comes in, and we all stand.
“Yes,” Dave answers.
The man looks around the room, questioning the number of true family members.
“I’m Dr. Crabtree, Bryce’s surgeon. Can I speak with the parents in the hallway?”
A whimper slips through my lips, and Quinn is at my side in an instant.
“Dr. Crabtree, we can speak freely here,” Dave answers.
The doctor nods and takes the cap off his head. “Bryce had very little bleeding in the brain. We drained it, but there is still swelling. H
is lobes look good, but we will watch for memory loss and motor skill functions. There was more swelling on his pituitary gland, but we think that is from the impact. We set his collarbone and the fracture in his shoulder. The burns are superficial and will heal in a few days.”
“This sounds positive.” Sheila speaks up and reaches for my hand. I walk to her side and hold on.
“Yes, but the next forty-eight hours are critical to watch his reaction after the surgery. We’ve tried to wake him, but he’s still not responding. He was extremely agitated, and his blood pressure kept spiking. We had to sedate him more than I liked.”
“So he’s probably drowsy. He’ll come out of it,” Dave pointedly states.
“No, Bryce is in a coma. He’s semi-responding, but this could go either way. He could slip deeper or start to wake up.”
“He flexed his fingers and moved his eyes earlier with Devon,” Nate breaks in. “He was responsive then.”
The doctor’s eyes scan the room and land on mine. “Are you Devon?”
I’m so scared I can’t answer, but Sheila answers for me. “She is.”
“Then I suggest you keep talking to him. If he was reactive to you then that’s a good sign.”
My heart flips in my chest. Pressure builds, and I lose my footing. Morgan catches me and whispers how I need to be strong. Instantly, I strengthen and stand tall.
“When can we see him?” I ask with a solid sense of purpose.
“In about an hour. He’ll be in ICU for at least a day. Then we’ll re-evaluate,” Dr. Crabtree answers and looks at Sheila and Dave. “I’d like to speak to the parents alone.”
Sheila lets go of my hand, and she and Dave follow him to the hall. I turn around and face my family and friends.
“We need to get a plan together. I’m staying here—no matter what.”
“Tell me, sista.” Quinn takes out a pen and pad.
“Sheila and Dave need reservations at a hotel nearby.”
“Done.”
“My parents, too.”
“Done.”
“Morgan and Crystal need a place to stay for a day or so.”
