Page 80 of Wrecked

“Sir, your son—”

“He’s not my fucking son! He’s my—” I say the only thing I can think of that will guarantee me access to his room. “—my husband!”

Her eyes widen. “All right, then. Come inside but please stay quiet and out of the way. Let us do our work.”

I nod. Hell, I’d agree to anything she said as long as I can be near him.

I follow the nurse back into Sam’s room and stand off to the side, out of the way. I try to be inconspicuous because I’m afraid they’re going to chase me out of here.

Sam is attached to all sorts of machines that are beeping and whirring. He’s connected to a blood pressure cuff, and it looks like a young woman is in the process of inserting an IV line in his arm.

I can’t see all of him, but I can definitely see that his head is bandaged. His face, chest, and arms are splattered with blood. He’s lying there, still as a statue, unconscious.

My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. There’s a roaring sound in my ears, and my vision starts to dim.

“Somebody either sit him down or get him out of here!” yells a man in a white coat who’s shining a flashlight into Sam’s eyes.

Another man, this one younger and taller, grabs my arm and steers me to a corner chair. “Sit down, sir, before you pass out.”His nametag says Dr. Kyle Newman, Neurology.

As I sit there and stare at these people hovering over Sam—shouting orders, talking so rapidly I can’t follow what they’re saying—all I can think is,God, please, I can’t lose him.

I can’t. He’s—he’severything.

Sam, please, hang in there, baby.

Another woman pops her head into the room. “They’re getting a bed ready for him in the ICU.”

ICU—the intensive care unit.

“I want that CT scan now!” Dr. Newman yells.

A nurse scurries off to make arrangements.

I sit here, frozen, in shock as I stare at Sam’s seemingly lifeless body. If it weren’t for the machines tracking his pulse and blood pressure, I wouldn’t even know he was alive.

And the blood! He’s covered in it. A nurse is working on getting him cleaned up.

And Beth! God, she’s hurt, too. She must be somewhere nearby, but I can’t leave Sam.

God, how could this happen?

Lia walks into the room. “The front desk told me you wanted to see me,” she tells the doctor.

“Yeah,” the man says. “You’re one of the witnesses? Tell me what happened. What did you see? Did you see him hit his head?”

Lia glances at me and nods a silent greeting. “We were crossing the street when a car ran a red light and came speeding right at us. Sam pushed our friend Beth out of the way, but he got hit in the process. The impact sent him flying into a streetlamp.He hit his head on the metal base. We called 911, and here we are.”

“Was he conscious at the time of the accident?”

“Not really. Once he hit his head, he didn’t regain consciousness.”

“Thank you,” the doctor says.

Lia walks over to me and lays her arm across my shoulder. “Hang in there, Cooper. Sam’s a tough one. He’ll be fine. If he can survive falling out of an airplane, he can survive this.”

* * *

Sam is wheeled off to the imaging department for a CT scan. They image his head to check for fractures and internal bleeding. I wait outside the room as he is scanned.