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Izzy hasn’t been conscious once in the two hours since she was found. We’ve simply been left in this waiting room alone, with no answers and no promises of answers.
“What’s taking so long?” Jon stops in front of me as Jim slumps down in the chair to my left. He drops his weight and presses his face to his open hands.
“I don’t know, Jon.” I concentrate on breathing in and out as emotions slam around inside me. Pressing my hand to Jim’s shaking back, I work on being the older, bigger brother who can take care of everyone else while keeping his own shit under control.
I consider getting up to grab coffee and find a payphone to call Kit – even if it means interrupting her birthday celebrations – when a man in scrubs walks into the room.
He shrinks back when we stand as one. “Whoa.” His hands come up between us. “My name’s Dr. Kelly, and I’m looking after Ms. Hart tonight. Which one of you is her next of kin?”
“She’s my sister.” Jon steps forward. “Is she okay?”
“Ms. Hart is awake. She has a concussion, and a mighty big bump on the back of her head.”
“She… what? A concussion? Did she fall?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Hart. I was coming to you for answers. No, I don’t think she fell. At least, not without help. Her injuries are consistent with a strike to the head, which,” he eyes us regretfully, “is why the police have been notified. They’ll be by to speak to her, and the rest of you, soon.”
Jimmy eyes snap wild with worry. “Someone hit her?”
Kelly’s head cocks to the side. “Who are you?”
“That’s Jimmy.” I step between them. “And I’m Bobby Kincaid.” I point to Aiden. “And Aiden Kincaid. And that’s Jack. We’re owners of the same gym, and brothers. We’re family.” I feel sick. I want Kit by my side. I need to see her, to touch her. I don’t even care about disturbing her night anymore. I need to see her.
“You’reBobby Kincaid?” His eyes narrow suspiciously. “I’ll need you to come with me in a moment. Ms. Hart’s asking for you. But first, like I said, she’s awa–”
“Me? She’s asking for me?”
“Yes, but first I want to talk to you all as one, so I won’t have to repeat myself.”
“But, why would she ask for me?” I mean, I love her, she’s family, but there’s no way she’d ask for me first. I look to Jon. She’d ask for him. That’s the way it is. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Kelly huffs. “Well, the sooner you stop interrupting me, the sooner I can update you and take you back. Ms. Hart has a large contusion on the lower portion of her skull, only an inch or so above her spine.” He points to his own neck. “I suspect she was hit with a closed fist. The injury isn’t consistent with being hit with an object – like a bat or something. I think it was a large, closed fist. She’s really very lucky, there have been deaths from this exact type of attack. She has no defensive marks, there was no struggle. She didn’t know it was coming, she wasn’t prepared. She has scraping on her chin, forearms, and hands from the fall. She has early signs of hypothermia, though I’m confident there’ll be no permanent damage. I don’t think she was exposed to the weather for long. We’ll keep her overnight to monitor her concussion, but other than that, she’ll be fine. Mr. Kincaid, if you’ll follow me, she requested you first, then I’ll send someone back to collect the rest of you.”
Jimmy snatches his arm. “We’re all coming.”
Kelly turns back and stares at Jim’s hand with a lifted brow. He’s not scared of the five fighters in front of him. Dealing with scared and angry families is no doubt part of his daily routine. Sighing, he yanks his arm from Jim’s hand and nods. “Fine, let’s go. If it’s too much for her, I’ll have you removed. She needs to rest, not host a party.”
“We won’t disturb her,” Jim grumbles.
Kelly leads us through a maze of corridors and locked doors, and finally arriving in a large ward, he breaks away from our group and moves to talk to a nurse. They speak in hushed whispers and sneaking glances, then with a wary sigh, he turns back and stops in front of us. “Ms. Hart has gone back to sleep. She’s okay, it’s just a regular sleep, but she’s been given pain relief for her whopper of a headache, so she conked out. We’ll be monitoring her closely, so don’t worry. I expect a full recovery.”
“Can we still go in?” Jon asks.
“Yeah, you can go in, but don’t try and wake her. She needs her rest. Be considerate of her pain, be quiet. When she wakes, be sure to buzz the nurse so she can have her vitals checked. Otherwise, Nurse Robens will be in and out often as she does rounds.”
We walk away and quietly step into her dark room. My stomach rolls at the sound of the heart rate monitor, though of course, the steady rhythm should be comforting. Her body looks so small and defenseless beside such big machines.
Izzy has never been defenseless. Not in all the time I’ve known her.
She was always going to keep up with her big brothers. It was Iz and Jon against the whole world, and no way was she going to let Jon shoulder it all, so she stepped up and became the badass she is today. But that big hospital bed dwarves her and sends Jon’s chest heaving with silent tears.
He steps forward and takes her hand in his. Bending to rest his forehead on her stomach, he cries for the little girl he’s fought his whole life to keep safe.
Jimmy snags the visitor’s chair and pushes it up on Iz’s other side. He sits down heavily, his anger the total opposite to Jon’s broken heart. Stroking strands of mahogany hair that rest over the pillow near him, he takes a deep breath and studies her passive features.
Jack hasn’t moved more than a foot from me since the gym. It’s as though he needs me for direction and comfort, since Kit isn’t here to do it.
My stomach tugs and twists as I think of her. The longer we’re apart, the sicker I feel. Leaning back against the wall and sliding down, Jack mirrors my movements and slides down beside me until our asses rest on the floor and our knees bend high. I put my hand on his head and pull him in for a moment.
