There’s a pause, and I want to reach through the phone and grab my brother by his collar. “For fuck’s sakes, is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. They found her work ID, and she had Jane’s number down as her emergency contact, and they called like fifteen minutes ago. We don’t have any details, but we’re driving to New York City right now.”
I check my watch. The last flight to New York would be booked by now and who knows if I’ll even get on if I try to fly standby.
Caleb.
“Austin, I need you to do me a big favor, please.”
“What?”
“I need you to ask Caleb to arrange a private plane for me.”
“But, Casey, you’ve got the first game of the World Series tomorrow. You can’t leave.”
“I don’t fucking care about that. You’re telling me that the woman I love is lying in a hospital bed and could be dead for all that we know, and you want to talk about a stupid game?”
The line goes silent. I would have thought Austin had hung up on me if it weren’t for the wind in the background. “I’ll call him right now.”
“Thank you. I can be at the airport in thirty minutes.”
It will take at least six hours between flight time and travel to and from the airport before I can see Sage.
I slam my fist against the parking garage wall, uncaring if I break every bone in my hand.
Six hours before I’ll know if she’s all right.
Six hours before I know if my heart will still beat without her.
27
Sage
It’s dark and quiet. There’s only the beeping of the monitor and whispers around me.
“Do you think she’ll make it?”
“What if she doesn’t wake up?”
“Do you think she can hear us?”
I try to speak, yet nothing comes out. I want to tell them that I’m fine, but my mouth and my brain are not on good terms.
I try to open my eyes, but there’s a sharp pain at the side of my head that feels like ten thousand needles on my temple. Exhausted by the exertion, I let go and fall back into darkness.
I think I’ll sleep for a little while longer.
*
I’m not sure how much time has passed, whether it’s been ten minutes or ten hours, but the voices around me are louder and angrier.
“What do you mean I can’t see her? Everyone else has.”
“Sir.” The nurse’s voice is stern. I recognize the New York accent from earlier when she told everyone to leave the room. “Her blood pressure rises every time there’s someone in here. Now keep your voice down before I throw you out of the hospital and not just this room.”
I smile and flutter my eyes.
I squeeze them shut when the light is too bright. “Turn off the lights,” I whisper.
