I breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up the phone and dash out of the office to my truck.
Glancing at my phone, there are over a dozen missed calls from Sutton. Shit. I know she’s at work right now, so my only hope is that she’s with Troy.
But that leads me to my other questions as I peel out of the parking lot.
What the fuck was Troy doing in a car by himself and where the fuck is Missy?
It seems like every person in the entire city is out as I try to navigate the busy streets to get to the hospital.
My brain is going to every worst-case scenario on what could have possibly happened. Everything was fine when I packed Troy up for his day with Missy today. Shit, shit, shit. I can’t take this. Pulling up to the hospital, I find the closest spot to the ER doors that I can and rush inside. As soon as the glass doors slide open, Sutton is there.
“Thank fuck.” I run into her arms and squeeze her tight. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Troy. He’s?—”
“Is he okay? What happened? Where is he? Can I see him?”
“Take a breath,” Sutton tells me. Worry lines her face, and it does nothing to calm the nerves that have taken over my entire body. “He is okay. Jameson is with him now.”
Thank God he and Sutton work here. I don’t know what I would do if I had to talk to a stranger. “What happened? Someone named Linda called and said they found him in a car?”
Sutton grimaces, and whatever comes next, I know I’m not going to like it. She nods. “Yeah. We’re trying to get the full story of what happened, but he’s okay.”
Taking my hand, Sutton leads me down a hallway. Machines are beeping and people are coming and going. The last time we were here, it was for a broken arm. At least there’s some relief that this isn’t worse.
“He’s in here.”
Looking through the mint green doors, I’m relieved to see Troy sitting on a gurney with Jameson on a stool next to him. He looks fine. Pushing open the door, Sutton follows me in. Troy’s eyes light up the minute he sees me.
“Daddy! Look what Jameson made me.”
He holds up a hockey stick balloon with a puck attached to the end. Thank fuck. Rushing to the side of the bed, I scoop him into my arms and squeeze him tight.
“He’s okay,” Jameson tells me.
“Don’t squish my hockey stick,” Troy tells me.
“Are you okay, buddy?” I ask him, pulling back and looking him over. There’s an IV attached to his arm, but other than that, he looks okay.
I think I might be in worse shape than he is.
“Mommy was supposed to take me to see a movie, but we had to stop first.”
“And where is she?”
Troy shrugs a shoulder and sits back down on the bed. “I dunno.”
Rubbing a hand over his hair, I press a kiss to the top of his head. He smells like the shampoo I always use for him. It helps soothe my frayed nerves.
“What else can we make?” Troy asks Jameson. “Can we make a hockey stick for Lydia?”
“She would love that,” Sutton tells him.
“Can we make a unicorn too?” Troy asks. “I want a unicorn to give to Lydia.”
“Yes. We’ll make both,” Jameson says. He pulls out a fistful of balloons from his pocket and dumps them on the bed. Troy starts fishing through the bright colors and hands them over to Jameson to start creating his next work of art.
