My legs start to give out, and I’m vaguely aware of Knox’s hands propping me up, pulling me back from the edge.
“He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be okay.”
“They’re doing everything they can,” he says. “He’s tough, Bree. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him.”
I nod mechanically, my head moving in agreement, but inside, the storm is raging. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Knox’s hand is the only thing keeping me upright. Without it, I’m sure I would crumble to the floor.
“I need to see him,” I manage to whisper, the words almost inaudible. My throat is tight, but the anxiety in my mind screams louder than I can voice it.
He shakes his head. “He’s in surgery, Bree. It could be hours… We just have to wait.”
Wait. The word is a prison sentence. I want to demand he take me to him, but the strength in my legs falters, and I’m rooted in place. My hands tremble at my sides, and I want to move, but all I can do is stand here,waiting.
Knox shifts his focus, releasing my arm to approach Juliette. There’s an edge of concern in his voice as he guides her to a chair. “You need to sit, Jules. You’re exhausted. This isn’t good for you.”
Guilt snakes through me. How did I not think of her before now? Juliette, who has been by my side through all of this, who ispregnantand running on just as much exhaustion and fear as the rest of us.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Shit. Jules, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She just shakes her head, already sinking into the chair Knox guided her to. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice as reassuring despite her exhaustion.
“You need to go home,” I try again, because even though I don’t want her to leave, even though I selfishly need her here, I can’t ignore what’s best for her. “Get some rest. Take care of yourself. The babies?—”
“This is where I need to be,” she interrupts, her gaze locking onto mine.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
She offers a small smile, tired but sure. “Okay. Any word from your parents or Lucy?” she asks, turning her attention back to Knox.
“Aye, they’ll be here soon,” he replies, his voice rougher than usual. “Lucy’s driving Mum and Dad.”
I sink into a chair next to Juliette, my legs finally giving out. “Can you tell me exactly what happened? How did they find him?”
Knox runs a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. His eyes are distant and unfocused, as if he’s still on the riverbank watching everything unfold.
“They found him on the bank a few miles from where he went in. He was unconscious but breathing. They think he managed to grab onto something before he passed out.”
His voice falters, and for a second, the room is so quiet I can hear my own shallow breaths. “If he hadn’t…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to. We all know what would have happened.
If he hadn’t grabbed onto whatever it was, we’d be planning a funeral instead of sitting in a hospital waiting room.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands as I try to focus my breathing.
“He’s alive,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. “He’s alive.”
The waiting room fills and empties around us. Nurses come and go. The sun climbs higher in the sky outside the windows. And still, we wait.
The rest of the family arrives, their faces etched with the same worry that consumes me, and yet it feels like I’m watching them through a thick fog.
Juliette doesn’t let go of me, her hand a constant touch on my arm, holding me together. Knox, on the other hand, paces near the doorway. I can almost feel the tension radiating off him, like if he moves enough, the clock will speed up.
But the clock keeps ticking its relentless rhythm, reminding me of how little control we have. Every tick is like my own heartbeat, each one a test of my will.
And then, finally, the door opens and a nurse steps through.
“Family of Callan MacKenzie?”
