The news of Phoenix’s injuries had floored her. She couldn’t bear to picture her beautiful son under a train. How could she not have realized that Phoenix was as much a part of her as John had been? Just like when the boys were little, she felt his pain as if it were her own.
She looked past the IV line dripping fluids into him, past the tubes entering and exiting his body. She squeezed his hand.
“Phoenix, please wake up. I need you to come back to me,” she murmured. Nothing. Silence. Just the beeping of equipment keeping him alive.
His skin held a gray pallor, which frightened her. His jaw was slack, his body motionless. He lay so still that several times she checked to ensure he was breathing.
He was not dying. The doctors had said so. She worried they might be wrong.
One diminished worry only meant that another took its place. She could barely fathom his loss. She pictured his chubby-yet-firm toddler arms flung around her neck for a kiss, or his child’s long legs urging a dirt bike down the steep path behind their summer house. As a teen, he would dive over and over until he sliced through the water with perfect precision.
Unbidden as they were, ugly ideas gripped her. Her mind tried to push away thoughts of his abilities, and now, limitations. How would he take the news she’d have to tell him? The hospital staff assured her that he’d be able to do more than she imagined. She clung to the ray of hope the nurses had given her. “Prostheses are getting better and better nowadays. He’ll be able to return to an active life.”
She didn’t look closely at his bandages. She’d promised she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want him to hear her and bear the weight of her grief. Instead, she talked to him. Looking around, confirming Caleb was out of the room, Veronica brushed her lips over his cheek.
“When I first held you, I knew you were a wise soul. I said you would teach me more than I could teach you.” She paused. “This is not what you’re meant to teach me. Not this.”
Then, in a cruel twist, her mind sighed relief.At least it’s not Caleb. She imagined that losing so much might undo Caleb.
But even in her worst nightmares, she never thought this accident would undo Phoenix.
CHAPTER 8
THE AIR NEAR MY FINGERS
Phoenix
An insistent beeping stirred inside Phoenix’s brain. Its fuzzy edges grew crisper, more solid until he could no longer ignore the sound. He assessed himself, struggling to move. His mind waded through semi-consciousness to test out the weariness in his body. Eyelids resisted until he forced them open, only to close against a flash of bright white.
A pressure on his arm let him know he wasn’t alone. A familiar voice reached him from far away. His head seemed heavier than possible. So tired.
“Phoenix?” asked the voice again, closer now, and finally giving him the strength to pry open his eyes.
Caleb’s face appeared, dark eyes scowling, framed by a blinding whiteness around his head as if the tattooed scoundrel had turned angel.
“Are you okay?”
Phoenix groaned, and shut his eyes, still unaccustomed to the light.
“Are you in pain?” Caleb asked, protectively releasing Phoenix’s arm.
Christ, that’s what was wrong. Everything hurt. His arms, his legs.
His gut clenched, as he tried to roll into a position that would alleviate the fire incinerating his limbs. Moving was difficult, as if he was weighed down by sandbags.
A chair scraped the ground. “You want me to get the doctor? Or Mom?” Caleb asked.
“Wait.” Phoenix’s voice croaked from what seemed like years of disuse.
“Water? You want a drink?” His brother leaned so close that Phoenix could feel his breath.
Phoenix’s mouth felt as dry as Death Valley in August. He nodded.
He heard liquid trickling into the hollow of a cup. He opened his eyes to reach for his brother’s hand, the cup blurry.Shit.Wires restricted his movements.
His brother’s face came into focus, distraught, with his mouth set in a grim line.
“What happened?”
