I stand there, frozen, taking in her heaving breaths and outstretched arms. With my pulse thudding in my ears, and my hands curling anduncurling at my sides, I don’t know what to do. What to say. I try to swallow it down, try to stay the small version of me. The version that doesn’t make messes, that doesn’t disrupt.
But pressure builds in my chest. Steven’s face sparks in my mind. The way his smile cracked when he said he’d miss me, the ache I felt. I think about the times I want to scream, but don’t. The times I want to feel something, but I’m too scared to.
Heat creeps up my arms and settles in my chest when I realize: I want to feel everything, all at once, with him.
An idea hits me. A tiny spark of want, curiosity. It spreads through, like air rushing into my lungs after having been underwater. The thought of breaking something sounds like a relief. Having the chance to let my emotions tear through anything my hands land on might be just what I need.
But it’s not going to be art.
“Where are you going?” Ellie calls after me, but I’m already out the door, jumping in the car.
I’m going to get my husband.
Chapter forty-one
Steven
Thewaitingroomispacked. Mondays are usually the busiest in the ER. A sea of people crowd each corner, some sick, some merely impatient, all talking over one another, but all I can hear is my hammering pulse.
“Hey, Dr. Jones.” A young man with a familiar face smiles at me. “What’re—”
“Where is she?” I cut in, already leaning over the check-in desk.
“Who?”
“Emma Jones,” I grit out. My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms as he fumbles urgently with his keyboard.
“Right this way.”
He hits a button, and the automatic double doors sweep open. I’m already moving, barreling through, muscle memory dragging me down the familiar halls. Right, then left, each step sharper, faster.
Jessee, the nurse from my accident, is posted at the station. Her eyes widen the second she sees me wild and frantic. Her expression flips from surprise to concern when I reach her.
“Dr. Jones—”
“Where is she?” I demand, scanning every face in the hall. No one answers, and rage boils in my chest. Jessee tries to slow me down, but I move past her, feeling more frantic by the second.
“Where is my wife?”
The room goes quiet around me, the anger and desperation clinging to me like sweat.
“Steven.”
I turn to see Ellie standing at the end of the hall, shaking, her fear mirroring mine.
“What happened?” I rush over to her.
“Some kid was texting. He wasn’t looking and hit her on the driver’s side.” Her voice cracks. “I saw the whole thing. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry.”
“El, where is she?”
As badly as I want to console her, my focus is elsewhere. I need to find my wife. I squeeze Ellie’s shoulders as she points to the room in the corner.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even knock. I’m not wasting any more time.
I throw the door open, and my chest caves in. There, in a hospital bed, is Emma. My Emma. My wife. A black eye blooms against her skin, and a gash runs along the side of her face. Her eyes are already locked on mine, like she’s been watching the door, waiting on me.
I’m by her side, on my knees, feeling every drop of blood in my body turn to ice.
