“Kelly?” Seb muttered, desperately clinging on as he waited for the answer.
“We’ll find her.”
Everything after that was a mixture of noise and light fading in and out, nothing discernible, just sounds and images. Seb tried to make sense of what was going on around him, desperate to know more about Kelly, but it was a losing battle. Easier to just close his eyes and sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Tim paced the length of the hospital room, willing Seb to wake up so that he could kill him already.
What the hell had Seb been thinking? For what seemed the fiftieth time that day, he dropped heavily onto the hard plastic chair next to the bed and ran his hands through his hair. He’d done it so often now, he was probably a horrendous mess, but fuck it, he felt so helpless just sitting around.
“Hey.”
Tim looked up as his brother came in brandishing Seb’s chart. “Tell me.”
David hesitated, then said softly, “You’re not down as family, Tim. I should really check with the patient before I—”
“Please. I’m his doctor. Won’t that do?”
David frowned and stared at him for a couple more seconds, then walked into the room with a sigh and closed the door behind him. “Technically you’re not listed as his doctor, but since he’s classed as pack and you’re the pack doctor, I guess I can bend the rules this time.”
Tim smiled, grateful it was his brother on shift tonight. “Thank you.” He pointed to the chart. “How bad is it?”
“Well, it’s not good, but it could have been a lot worse, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Yes, Tim was all too aware how bad a shifter attack on a human could be. He’d treated a few and had identified two fatal cases in the past year. On the surface, Seb looked virtually untouched. He had a graze across his cheek and forehead from where he’d hit the ground, but that was all. The real damage would be on his back and inside his body. “Just tell me.”
“Fine.”
Tim closed his eyes and slumped back in his seat willing himself to remain calm—something that had been increasingly difficult since he’d received Gareth’s call three hours ago.
“Mild concussion, broken right ulna and radius, two-inch cut on right palm that required stitches. Bruised ribs on the right and five lacerations on his back, crossing from right shoulder to left hip. Three of them were deep enough to require stitches. He lost a lot of blood.”
“Fuck.”
Tim felt sick; something he’d not experienced much of until Seb came along. Unfortunately that kind of pain wasn’t anything his shifter DNA could fix, and Tim rested his head in his hands in an attempt to will the feeling away. Falling apart wouldn’t help anyone, and he didn’t want Seb to see him like that when he woke up. “Is that everything?”
“They had to recast his ankle too.”
“Bollocks.”
“But at least it didn’t need surgery.”
Tim stood, needing to move or do something, anything to relieve the stress of waiting around at a hospital. He walked over to the side of the bed, his gaze sweeping over the sharp lines of Seb’s face. “Can I stay?”
He trailed a finger along the edge of Seb’s jaw; soft stubble prickled his fingers.
“For a little while. I’m due to check his vitals in a sec. You can stay for that, and then I’m going to have to kick you out.”
Tim nodded. “Okay.”
He didn’t want to leave Seb’s side, but Seb would probably be in and out of sleep for the rest of the evening. Plus, Tim wanted to speak to a few people about what had happened.
His hands curled into fists as he remembered getting the call; he closed his eyes again, breathing through it. Getting angry wouldn’t help.
A few moments later, David touched his arm. “I’m about to wake him. You ready?”
Tim rolled his shoulders and reached for Seb’s hand, the one not currently wrapped in bandages. Again. “Yeah.”
