“Calm?” Paul swivels toward her. “What the fuck do you mean, calm?” He throws a hand toward me and Jacob. “Mom, are you seeing this?”
Jacob’s fingers tighten a little around my arm. His grip is so weak, so fragile, it calls me back to myself. I don’t give a shit about Paul and his temper tantrum. I’m here for Jacob. And Dr. K, it seems, feels the same way.
“This is not helpful,” she says firmly. “I will not have my patient distressed. What keeps him calm, stays. Anything else must go.”
Paul’s face turns a violent shade of red. “You’re trying to throwusout?” he spits. “We’re his family. Dad—get in here.” He gesticulates furiously at his father, who enters the room wearing the same stunned look as his wife. “Did you know about this?” Paul demands.
I flush dark red under Jacob’s father’s gaze, but before he can say anything, Dr. K saves me again.
“Monsieur Nichols, I have removed your son’s breathing tube,” she says calmly. “This is an excellent step, but it is very dangerous if he becomes distressed. He must have calm and quiet. If your son cannot be calm, I must ask you all to leave.”
“And what abouthim?” Paul points a furious finger at me.
Jacob’s father’s eyes flick back and forth between me and Jacob and back again. “Paul, Kim, let’s just—c’mon.” He drops his eyes and hurries from the room, his wife following quietly behind. Paul shoots me one last furious glare.
“We’ll be requesting another doctor,” he snaps at Dr. K before he storms after his parents.
Dr. K closes her eyes briefly and sighs, while two of the nurses exchange wide-eyed stares.
My face is hot with embarrassment. “Should I—”
“We must keep him very calm,” Dr. K interrupts, fixing me with a level gaze. “The nurses will check a blood gas now, and we will get an X-ray of his lungs. Do you have any questions?”
“Er—no, ma’am,” I mumble.
“Very good.” She nods at the nurses, two of whom hurry out of the room after her. They slide the door shut behind them, leaving me alone with Jacob and the third nurse. She’s about five feet tall with frizzy dark hair and a no-nonsense look on her face.
“I will take the blood gas now, oui?” She steps up to the side of the bed, wielding a terrifying-looking needle. “I am needing his wrist, please.”
Reluctantly, I guide Jacob’s hand away from my shirt. She takes it from me and rests his wrist on the bed. She sticks the needle deep into his skin. I hold him tighter, but he barely even flinches. She draws out some dark red blood and then neatly bandages his wrist and returns his hand politely to me. I shoot her a grateful look, and then she slips out of the room, leaving me and Jacob alone.
I let out a long breath and close my eyes, dropping my forehead to rest against Jacob’s hair. His grip is loosening, and his breathing evening out. I hold him until his hand slips off my chest, then carefully lay him back on his pillow.
My heart is beating uncertainly, hope and fear battling it out in my chest. He still looks so fragile, lying there. His skin is pale, and the shadows under his eyes are a deep violet. But at the same time... at the same time, his breathing tube is out. I hold his hand and watch his chest rise and fall, hanging on to every small, miraculous movement.
A few minutes later, a tech comes in with a portable X-ray machine. The frizzy-haired nurse gives me a heavy lead vest to wearso I don’t have to leave the room, and then pops out for a few minutes and returns with two warm blankets for Jacob and a cup of tea for me. She gives me a small, encouraging smile before she leaves. Another ally in my corner.
For the next eight hours, I sit at Jacob’s side. He spends most of it asleep, but sometimes, when the nurses come to check on him, he stirs. His eyes open, cloudy and confused, but I stroke his hair and he settles, slipping back off to sleep. Sometime past midnight, he tries to talk to me, a soft, raspy noise, like a question.
“I’m here,” I murmur. “It’s okay.”
He tries to talk again, but it comes out as a cough.
“Don’t try to talk right now.” I run a thumb over his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
He stares at me a few minutes more, blinking heavily, and then drifts off again.
The whole night, I wait for his family to reappear. I run it over and over in my mind, every possible attack, every possible argument. But the night passes, and no one shows up. I ask the frizzy-haired nurse, Manon, if they’re in the waiting room, but she tells me there’s no one out there. Part of me is grateful for it. A much larger part is furious that they can’t put aside their obvious problems with me to be by Jacob’s side.
As the sky starts to lighten from deep navy to pale purple, my eyelids are so heavy I can’t keep them open anymore. I close my eyes for just a second. When I open them again, the room is flooded with light. I blink a few times. My head is throbbing, and there’s a monstrous pain shooting up and down my neck.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dropping my head and digging my fingers into the tight muscles of my neck. When I look up again, Jacob is watching me. An electric shock runs through me. His eyes are still hazy, but beneath the cloudiness, he’s there.
“Fuck,” I repeat. “Jacob.”
“Hi.” His voice is barely a whisper, but the sound of it draws a tight lump to the back of my throat. I reach for him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “What happened?” he rasps.
“You were in a crash,” I say, my voice almost as fragile as his. “A bad one.”
