What if he couldn’t walk? What if he needed a lung transplant because a broken rib punctured his? My inner Nurse Hailey went to all the dark places.
“Can you tell us anything?” James barked at the front desk lady for the twentieth time.
She glared at James. “I can tell you that we are doing everything we can to help your friend and I’ll send a doctor or nurse out to speak to you shortly.”
Then she slammed her glass door shut, cutting us off.
“I gotta call the boys.” James looked a bit unhinged. “We lost a buddy to a motorcycle accident a few years ago. He was a new member of the crew. It was … bad. Accidents are bad.”
Maybe I wasn’t the only one losing my shit. “I’ll call them,” I told him, and he gave me a grateful smile.
While James sat, rubbing his hands through his hair, I called Angela and told her the news.
“Holy fuck, girl!” she screamed. She said they were on their way. Everyone showed up, including douchebag Nick and his girl.
We overflowed that waiting room. Four dangerous-looking biker dudes and three chicks who didn’t know what to do with themselves. It felt like hours before a nurse finally walked through the double doors. She was wearing a surgical cap and had blood on her scrubs.
Ethan’s blood?
“Family of Ethan King?” she called.
We all stood.
When she raised an eyebrow, I stepped forward. “I’m a nurse. What’s going on?”
Okay, slight lie, I was a nursing student, but she wasn’t going to check my credentials, and it might get me back there.
She nodded, stepping forward. “Mr. King was in an accident and sustained multiple injuries. We’re taking him back to surgery, but he’s stable. I just wanted you to know.”
Accident. Multiple injuries. Surgery.
“What … kind of injuries?” I pressed her.
What if he was brain damaged or couldn’t work with his hands anymore? He loved working on motorcycles more than anything.
She gave me an apologetic smile. “Hard to tell until we get in there. Nothing seems internal. Shattered femur for sure, definitely broken ribs.”
Angela burst into tears and I literally felt my soul leave my body. Shattered femur meant months in a cast and at least a year of physical therapy. But he was alive. And his organs were okay.
I nodded, trying to keep the tears inside. “Thank you.”
She turned to leave and then spun back around. “Oh, and I’ve called the police. They’ll come by after he’s recovered to take his statement.”
I frowned as James stood from his seat. “Statement?” the strong and silent biker asked.
She nodded. “Before we delivered anesthesia to him, Ethan told us that it was a hit and run. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She left out the double doors and my whole world came crashing down.
Hit and run.
Hit and run.
Hit and run.
Hit and run.
Those words spun around and around in my head until I felt sick.
