They take off, and I fall into step next to the Doc as we all rush toward the back of the arena. Doc looks over at me and explains, “It’ll be a smaller transport ambulance, so you likely won’t be able to go with her.”
I frown, panic rising up as I retort, “Well, I don’t want her to go alone?”
He gives me a sympathetic look, then says, “Your mom might fit, but there’s zero chance they’ll take you. I suggest you and your dad go find a car and try to get a head start on traffic.”
I glance at my watch, cursing loudly. My dad speaks up on my other side, “He’s right, Ren. Let’s get a move on. Your mama’s got her.”
We burst out the back exit just in time to hear the sirens attempting to break through traffic. I move next to Cassidy, looking impossibly small and pale, my fingertips brushing the back of her lifeless hand before stepping back.
“She’s gonna be ok, right Doc?”
Doc looks me dead in the eyes and then says, “Just get your ass to the hospital, Raf.”
Dad grabs my shoulder, pulling me as he turns toward the parking garage. I give Doc a final nod, and with a last look at Cassidy, I turn and run.
32
THE COLD HAND OF GRIEF
REN
I explodeinto the emergency department waiting room, fully prepared to start busting some shit if anyone gives me any trouble.
“Where’s my wife?!” One of the nurses moves like she’s going to say something stern to me, but then my mom is there in front of me, her hands squeezing my arm.
“She’s being assessed, but I haven’t heard anything yet,” Mom whispers, worry creasing her brow.
I turn back to the nurse and ask, “Any update on my wife, Cassidy Logan-Rafferty?”
The nurse shakes her head. “Not yet. Someone will call you as soon as information is available.”
I stare at her, scowling, jaw clenched, but she doesn’t waver, her tired eyes don’t blink. Cursing under my breath, I turn away, pacing in front of the desk for a moment when the door bursts open again, revealing Dave. “What are you doing here? What about the game?”
“Coach told me to get lost,” Dave explains. “Figured the game was well enough over they’d manage.”
“We can’t have a crowd in here,” the nurse states clearly from behind the desk. She points down the hallway. “Cafeteria is that way, third floor. It’s open twenty-four hours.”
We both smile and nod, then I turn back to Dave and ask, “Did anyone call Conrad?”
“I did,” he responds. “He’s on his way.”
I turn to Mom, motioning toward the hallway the nurse had just pointed down. “I just need a minute.”
She nods, turns back to my dad and I walk with Dave a short way down the hallway. Stopping short, I press my back against the wall, bending over at the waist, hands braced on my thighs. My breath catches in my throat and I choke, coughing roughly as I attempt to manage the fear and panic churning in my chest.
Dave stands next to me, his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “She’s gonna be okay, man.”
I huff out a humorless laugh then look up, finding some comfort in the pain on Dave’s face, the glassiness of his own eyes. I attempt to speak, but only to choke again, annoyed when the moisture burning in my eyes overflows.
Dave steps closer, his hand squeezing more firmly, a silent support as I quietly lose it, allowing myself to feel every second of the unknown for a few moments.
“Rennick,” I hear a loud male voice
Declan catches sight of me, eyes wild as he rushes down the hallway, and I barely manage to straighten before he’s right there, yanking me into a full body hug. I freeze for a moment, arms outstretched, but his arms only tighten, jostling me around until, slowly, I hug him back.
He pulls back, his hands moving to my upper arms as he sets me away from him, his eyes searching mine. “What happened?”
Still unable to speak, I shake my head, and then Dave responds, “Cassidy collapsed at the game. We’re waiting for news on how she’s doing.”
