"Mom, I need you to calm down," I say as gently as I can while fighting my own panic. "Tell me what happened. How did he get hit with a bat?"
"It was an accident," she chokes out between sobs. "He was playing with Tommy—you remember Tommy from down the street? They were just practicing batting, taking turns. Danny was so excited because his swing was getting better." Her voice breaks completely. "Tommy was swinging and Danny must have leaned forward, and the bat caught him right in the head."
I sigh. A stupid, random accident. Danny's always been clumsy—tripping over his own feet, walking into glass doors, misjudging distances. When he was younger, we hovered constantly, trying to cushion every potential fall. But eventually we had to let him live his own life. We had to let him walk to work alone, hang out with friends unsupervised, make his own mistakes. I just never thought one of those mistakes could be this catastrophic.
"There was so much blood, Blair," Mom says again. "He was just lying there, and Tommy was screaming for help. I thought he was gone. I thought my baby was gone."
My throat tightens. "Mom, listen to me. Danny's in good hands. The doctors know what they're doing, and he's strong. He's going to be okay. We have to believe that."
"But what if?—"
"No what-ifs," I interrupt, trying to project a confidence I don't feel. "Danny's a fighter. You know that. Where are you now?"
"I'm in the waiting room. John just got here."
Good. My stepfather will be able to calm her down.
My phone buzzes—Sam calling back. "Mom, I have to go. I'm arranging a flight and I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Please hurry."
I switch calls. "Sam, tell me you have something."
“Yes.” Sam clears her throat. “The helicopter will be with you in twenty minutes. The service we keep on retainer had an aircraft nearby, so you got lucky. It'll take you to BWI where I've chartered a jet that can get you to Winston-Salem Regional in under an hour. Total travel time should be just under three hours."
"Thank you, Sam."
"There'll be a car waiting to take you to the hospital. Anything else?"
"I'll let you know."
As I end the call, I see Liv watching me through the window, her face creased with concern. I raise my hand to acknowledge her and point to my phone. She nods.
All I can think about is Danny's voice on the phone yesterday, asking when I was coming to visit. "Next week," I promised him—the same promise I've been making for months while I filled my empty days with meaningless distractions. This time I really meant it. I should have been there moreShould have made time for him. The thought of losing him now, of never getting another chance to hear him laugh is devastating, and I've never been so afraid.
31
LIV
Iwatch Blair through the windows as she paces outside, one hand running through her hair in a gesture I'm beginning to recognize as stress. She's on the phone for a long time—one call, then another, then another.
"Everything alright?" Mom asks, following my gaze.
"I don't know… I'm sure it's fine," I say, though uncertainty gnaws at me. She’s been on and off the phone for a while now. Could it be another woman? Great. Now I'm getting jealous.
Finally, Blair ends her last call and heads back inside. Instead of returning to our table, she goes straight to the manager. They have a brief conversation, and he nods, gesturing toward the back of the restaurant. Then she moves to lean against the wall near the entrance, typing furiously on her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration.
I try to focus on the conversation at our table—something about Emma and David's honeymoon itinerary—but I keep glancing toward her. She's still typing, occasionally pausing to read something on her screen before typing again.
Minutes pass. She doesn't look up. She doesn't come back to the table.
I can't take it anymore. Isn't this what a real girlfriend would do? Go and find out what's happening?
I excuse myself from the table and make my way toward her.
"Is everything okay?" I ask. "You look upset."
She shakes her head, her expression tight with worry. "It's Danny. He's had an accident. He's in the hospital."
