Page 84 of Wrecked

“Sam, honey,” Michelle says as she gently touches his face. “Mom’s here. Rachel, too.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey. I’m here.”

I push the button to call a nurse. When she answers, I tell her Sam’s awake and that he’s in a lot of pain. She comes right in and checks his vitals. She pushes a button to administer more pain medication.

A short while later, Shane and Beth arrive at Sam’s room. Michelle and Rachel return to the waiting room. There’s a limit of two visitors at a time, and we’ve already violated that a number of times.

When Shane wheels Beth into the room, she stares at Sam, horrified by all the wires attached to him. He’s hooked up to so many monitors, and half of them are sounding alarms because Sam is agitated. His pulse rate is high. His blood pressure is high.

“Sam, look!” I say. “Here’s Beth. She’s fine, see?” I motion for Shane to wheel Beth closer.

She reaches for his hand. “Sam, it’s okay.” Her voice cracks as tears stream down her cheeks.

“Beth?” Sam looks her over. “Are you okay? I pushed you so hard, and I saw you fall. I’m so sorry.”

At least he’s starting to remember what happened. That has to be a good sign.

“Are you kidding me?” Beth says. “You saved my life, Sam.” She scans his body, looking at the bandages on his head and his leg in a full cast, from the top of his thigh to his foot. “I’m so sorry, Sam. You’re hurt because of me.”

Shane lays his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m in your debt.”

When Sam tries to shake his head, he grimaces at the pain. “I was just doing my job.”

“Yeah, sure you were,” I say. He tries to downplay his actions.

The nurse returns then and chases everyone off, but me. “Sam needs rest more than anything right now.”

I step out of the room long enough to have a quiet word with Beth and Shane. “He’s going to be laid up for a while with that broken leg. I want him to stay with us, so I can take care of him.”

“Of course,” Shane says without hesitation. “He’s always welcome. You don’t need to ask.”

I return to Sam’s room, to sit at his bedside, hold his hand, and stroke his arm.

“My head hurts, Danny,” he cries quietly.

My throat tightens. I’d do anything to take this pain from him. Anything. I kiss the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“My leg hurts, too.”

I stand up and gently kiss his cheek and then his lips, which are dry. “Here, drink some water.” I bring a cup to his face and angle the straw between his lips. “Just a few sips. Please, Sammy.”

My heart is shredded. I don’t know what else I can do right now to comfort him. We still don’t know the extent of the damage to his head. He’s still listed in critical condition.

When Sam finally falls asleep, I allow my own tears to fall. This beautiful young man is so kind and brave and empathetic. He deserves better from me. He deserves everything, and I’ve let him down so many times. And yet, he still wants me even when I don’t deserve him.

I cup his hand in mine and gaze at him through tear-filled eyes. “Please get better.” The alternative is unthinkable. “I love you, Sammy.” I swallow against the hard knot lodged in my throat. “I love you.”

When visiting hours are over for the day, Michelle and Rachel return to their room at the Hyatt Regency hotel not far from the hospital. They plan to stay until they know Sam’s going to be okay.

But I’m not going anywhere. I camp out in the chair beside Sam’s bed, holding his hand, comforting him when he cries.Fortunately, no one says anything to me about staying past visiting hours. In fact, his nurse brings me a pillow and a blanket so I’ll be more comfortable. I fall asleep in that chair, my head on Sam’s bed, never once letting go of his hand.

Chapter 28 – Sam

Everything hurts. My head. My leg. My ribs. My back. I feel bruised and broken, like I was run over by a Mack truck. The only bright spot is Cooper. He rarely leaves my side.

The next few days are an unending cycle of pain, medication, and blinding headaches. I even have a few seizures, which nearly gives Cooper heart attacks. The doctor assures us they’re normal for someone recuperating from a brain injury like mine.