SNOW
I certainly didn’t plan on being back at the hospital at seven in the morning, but here I am.
I huddle in my seat, tucked into a corner of the waiting room away from prying eyes while waiting on news.
Xander fell unconscious after falling down three flights of stairs and the blood leaking through his hair terrified me.
Luckily, the cops arrived swiftly and the ambulance not long after, but even with everything I know about how well the people in this hospital do their jobs, the fear doesn’t leave me.
Seeing Dickson again was terrifying, but more than that was the shock at Xander immediately defending me.
Fighting for me.
When he and that asshole tumbled down those stairs, he ripped my heart right out of my chest.
I bite my nails right down to the soft nailbed as time ticks by at a crawl, playing out all sorts of scenarios in my mind.
What if he dies?
What if he wakes up but the blow to the head makes him forget me?
What if he wakes up and the blow makes him forget only the past day and he still hates me but no longer wants to talk to me?
He told me he loved me and then he fell down so many stairs.
The sickening thuds of body against stone still ring in my ears long after and I don’t think I’ll ever forget what that sounds like.
Definitely not the crack of Xander’s head bouncing off the wall.
I close my eyes and try to calm my thoughts but nothing works.
It’s a carousel of disaster in my mind until a hand touches my shoulder and I jump out of my thoughts.
“Fred?”
He stands over me with a slight smile. “Wasn’t sure if you were asleep. Sorry.”
“Is he okay?” I stand immediately and wince as dull pain throbs through my abdomen.
Fred places his hand on my shoulder and makes me sit. “You should be taking it easy. You were in a crash not three days ago.”
“But is he okay?”
He nods as he sits beside me. “He’s fine. He’s had a head CT and an MRI just to be safe because there’s no way I’m losing our little surgeon competition because he decides to die.” Fred snorts softly in amusement. “What a pair you two make.”
“He’s really okay?” Despite the calmness on Fred’s face, my stomach twists itself into knots, and a pulse of nausea rises in my throat. “You promise?”
“I promise. He did split his head open, but we’ve stitched it. Had to shave some of his hair.” Fred smirks. “But other than a few bruises and bumps and a cracked rib, he’s fine. He’s lucky, but he’s fine.”
“And…” I hesitate, half unwilling to ask. “What about Dickson?”
“The other guy?”
I nod.
“He’s got a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder. Some bruising. Cops are with him now. They actually want to talk to you, but I wanted to come and tell you that Xander is okay.”
I puff out my cheeks and groan. “I’m so tired of talking to the cops. They always make me feel like I’ve done something wrong.”
