“Yeah.” He swallowed and nodded. “I, um…you were having a hard time breathing. I found your stethoscope. You had a pneumothorax. So I did a needle decompression right there.” My brows rose slightly. No wonder my chest hurt. “Turns out your questionably accumulated medical supplyreallycame in handy.”
I grunted out a laugh, then winced. “Oh…don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry.” He stiffened and brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “All in all, you’re pretty damn lucky. The worst of it was the pneumo. You have a nice little cut on your brow, but they hadplastics come in, so you shouldn’t have a scar. Some scrapes and bruises, but…you’realive.”
His voice cracked at those last two words as his grip on my hand tightened. Tears pricked my eyes, my emotions ricocheting. “Blake…”
“You scared the absolute hell out of me,” he whispered through a shaky breath. “I thought—thought that you…” He trailed off, refusing to voice the worst-case scenario out loud. His hand came up, carefully running over the top of my head as he let out a breath before he leaned forward, brushing his lips against my temple. “You need to rest.” I tightened my hand around his. “I’m not going anywhere. Just rest.”
I didn’twantto. I wanted to stay in that moment with him—to talk to him—but my body had other plans. Between whatever meds they had me on and his gentle voice and soothing touch, I drifted back to sleep.
The next twenty-four hours were the worst in terms of pain and some shortness of breath. Blake and my mom hadn’t left my side.
My brother and Morgan had to work, but they decided to wait to come back until I was feeling up to visitors. I still hadn’t figured out what my brother knew, if anything, but it was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.
On Friday, Blake had to work, but since he was just downstairs, he came up to see me when he could, alternating visits with Marie and the other nurses while my mom stayed at my side. And that evening, after my updated X-ray confirmed the reinflation of my lung, they did a clamping trial to ensure the pneumothorax wouldn’t return.
By Saturday morning, they’d removed the chest tube, andthat afternoon, I was moved from the ICU to a step-down unit for observation for at least the next twenty-four hours. They said if all looked well, I could possibly—hopefully—be discharged tomorrow. I was feeling better, but I was still sluggish and sore, which was expected. However, they were pleased with my progress so far, all things considered.
My mom finished arranging my get-well flowers. I had some from the ER nurses, a couple from the doctors, one from my brother and Morgan, one from Gabe, one from Lucas and Callie, and even one from Blake. After she was done, since I could now eat solid food, my mom went to grab me something for a late lunch, so I wouldn’t be stuck eating hospital food.
I was in the middle of one of my breathing exercises when a light knock came on the door. Blake walked in a moment later, dressed in his navy blue scrubs—he had to work that day.
“Hey.” He smiled as he closed the door behind him. “How are you feeling?”
“Still sore, but better now that the tube is out.”
He chuckled. “I bet.” He pulled a bandage and ointment from his pocket, and I gave him a look. “The nurse was coming in to change your bandage,” he said, gesturing to my brow. “I told her I’d do it.” He sat on the edge of the bed, slipped on a pair of gloves, and reached up to gently peel the old bandage off. “Doesn’t look bad.”
He carefully cleaned the small wound. Then, he took a Q-tip and began applying the ointment. While I let him work, I became curious enough to finally ask—plus, it was the first time we were alone without someone else in the room.
“Does Wes…does he know?”
I saw the corner of his lips twitch as his eyes dropped tomine. “Yeah. He knows…” He put the cap on the ointment and opened the bandage package. “He figured it out that day based on where the accident happened. Plus, my being there was even more of a giveaway.”
Oh shit. “Was he pissed?”
“Yeah, at first,” he quietly answered with a nod. “But we talked. We’re good.”
I didn’t know what that meant.We’re good. Who? He and Wes? He and I? All three of us?
The day of the accident, I was supposed to go to Blake’s after I got done with work. He said he’d cleared his head and that we needed to talk, but I still had no idea what he wanted to say. Now, knowing my brother knew, paired with him saying “we’re good,” I was left confused and with more questions.
I wanted to ask about the conversation he wanted to have, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was still slightly anxious about it, unable to stop myself from thinking the worst. But he’d been here with me. So, that had to be agoodsign…right?
“We still need to talk…” I said it in hopes of gauging him, to see if I could get a feel for what it would be about.
He finished placing the small bandage on my brow, his eyes concentrating on what he was doing and not meeting mine. “Yeah, we do. And we will.”
That was it? That was all he was giving me?
It only put me more on edge and made me more anxious, but I didn’t push him for more. Not yet. Not here.
Late the following morning, after being examined and assessed again, the doctor told me I was okay to be discharged. I was relieved. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there and be back in my own space.
My mom had already packed a bag for me with clothes and brought it yesterday. I couldn’t shower yet—I felt so gross, but I had to wait at least another day because of the incision from the chest tube. Marie made fun of me while she was helping me wash my hair with a shampoo cap yesterday—we always joked about how those must be the worst. While it wasn’t the greatest, it got the job done.
While I was waiting for my mom to get there, since I assumed she’d be coming to take me home, there was a knock on my door. Blake walked in a moment later. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, not his navy blue scrubs like he should be, as today was part of his weekend shift.
