“River, I swear. Don’t make me call your granny. You worry about that boy laid up there. He’s a good one. We help family.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and the first tear spills.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hug him close. “Thank you, Uncle Willy.”
His large palm claps my back twice before he holds me, too. “You ain’t called me that in a long time.”
Stepping out of his hold, I quirk a watery smile his way. “Time to bring it back. Ya know, since we’re family and all.”
I swear something glistens in his blue eyes before that normal grimace finds its way back to his face. “Now get out of here. We’ll make sure things ‘round here are handled, and I’ll feed the mutts this evening.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before speed walking back toward the house.
It’s only another twenty minutes before I’m dressed, with a bag of clothes packed for Gray. The dogs only whimper, watching me shuffle to the door with the duffle.
“I’ll be back tonight, boys. I promise. We’ll cuddle again.”
My words do nothing to appease them as sad eyes watch me close the front door. They both stand at the edge of the porch, but they don’t follow. Gray really has taught them well.
It’s a race through town and along the mountainside to the hospital. Pulling out my issued badge, I scan myself into the staff parking lot. No way I’m weaving up and down aisles trying to find the closest spot possible.
Clipping that same badge to the loop of my jeans, I make my way through the hospital with purpose. No one stops me, but a few of the nurses and doctors wave as I pass them.
I don’t stop to give them the same greeting; it’s normal behavior for me. This cold and distant exterior I’ve curated here in the hospital. A toughness I had to exude, so I was taken seriously as a surgeon.
No doubt my outburst with Buckner last night ruined some of that image. Both in relation to my normal cool and the man laid up in that hospital bed.
Not wanting to knock, I slowly shift the door open just enough to slip into the room and then close it until only a sliver of light peeks through. TBI patients often have sound and light sensitivity while they are healing, and I would hate to cause Gray anymore pain.
The moment I’ve made it around the divider curtain, his head slowly swivels in my direction. His dry lips turning up into the softest of smiles.
Dropping the bag, I race to his side. “Baby, you’re awake.”
There’s no stopping the tears or the sob that breaks free. With no one here to witness this but Tate and Gray, I don’t try to hide how I feel about him. How scared I was and how grateful I am that he’s still here with me.
My palms lightly cup his cheeks as my lips press to the tip of his nose.
“Don’t cry. I’m fine,” he croaks. That normal bravado he walks around with is missing. Whether it’s because of the injury or he’s trying to hide his own fears from me is an issue for later. I already know how he feels about hospitals after his last bad injury.
Being here can’t be easy on him. The same place they brought him last time, urging him to quit.
I turn to face Tate. “Has the doctor been in yet?”
“Yes, but I asked him to come back once you were here.”
“Thank you.” Wrapping my arms around Tate’s neck, I hold him the same way I’d held Wilber this morning. “Thank you.” I pull back, cupping the back of his head, staring up into those brown eyes just a shade lighter than Gray’s.
He awkwardly clears his throat before I step away. “I’m going to go grab a shower and check on Joy.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the man I love.
Sitting by Gray’s side in the same chair his brother had been in, I grab hold of his hand.
“Tell me what happened.” His voice is so hoarse. I wonder if they’ve allowed him water yet. Digging in my pocket, I pull out my chapstick, smearing it across his mouth. The minty sensation will at least give him a little reprieve.
“Gray, I don’t think I could bear living that again.” My eyes cast down to where his fingers lightly squeeze mine.
“Tell me.”
So I do. Everything from how amazing his ride had been to the sound of his spine cracking against the metal fencing. His reluctance to come here, which only makes him chuckle, resulting in my narrowed eyes laser-focused on his face as I continue. I tell him about his injuries and what they could mean, each explanation only darkening his expression.
