Not knowing.
My mind, free from the urgent tasks of driving the boat and the truck, was now a playground for my darkest fears. I imagined the surgeon’s face, grim. I imagined a world without Iris’s bright energy, without her G-rated exclamations, without her laughter. The thought was a black, bottomless abyss.
I couldn’t do this again. Not alone.
A desperate, clawing need for someone who understood rose in me, and one name came through immediately. The one person I knew would understand not just my fear, but my connection to Iris.
Brenna.
My hand was shaking as I pulled out my phone and found her number. The act of reaching out, of admitting I couldn’t handle this on my own, went against every instinct I had. But the memory of that empty water, of that soul-crushing loneliness and grief, was stronger than my pride. I placed the call.
She answered on the second ring. “Austin? Hello? What’s wrong?”
She could hear it in my silence, in the breath I couldn’t quite catch.
“It’s Iris,” I finally said, my voice cracking. “There wasan accident. At the house. We’re at the hospital in Marathon. She’s… she’s in surgery.”
“Oh my God. Will she be okay?”
“I don’t have all the details,” I said. “She’s got a broken leg. A concussion. But Brenna… I… I can’t…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn't admit that I was terrified, that I was falling apart.
But I didn’t have to.
“I’m on my way.” Her voice was firm and steady, a lifeline in the swirling chaos of my terror. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The forty-five minutes it took for Brenna to get there felt like forty-five years. The muted television droned on, a flickering nightmare of smiling faces and bright colors that were a personal insult.
A soft hand on my shoulder made me jump, a strangled sound escaping my throat.
“I’m here.” Brenna’s face was etched with concern, her green eyes clouded with worry. But she was here. A solid, comforting presence in the sterile, chilling emptiness of the waiting room.
“Hey,” I managed, my voice a rough croak.
She didn’t offer cheap platitudes or ask a barrage of questions. She just dropped into the chair next to mine and laid her hand gently on my arm. We sat in silence for a long time, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of my swirling emotions.
Finally, in our corner of the waiting room, away from the other family huddled in their own private bubble of worry, the words I’d held locked inside me for so long began to break free.
“What if she’s not okay, Bren?” I murmured. “I just found her. And now… what if I lose her?”
“She’s strong,” Brenna said softly, her grip on my armtightening. “And she’s in the best possible hands right now.”
“I should have been there,” I continued, the guilt a familiar, bitter taste in my mouth. “I should have done something. It’s happening again. I can’t… I can’t lose someone else, Brenna. I can’t do it.”
“Oh, Austin.” Her voice was thick with love and pain that mirrored my own. She scooted her chair closer. “This is not the same. You are not the same twenty-one-year-old boy you were then. You are not a monster. You are a good man who has been through a terrible trauma.” She looked me straight in the eye, her gaze fierce, compelling. “And you are falling in love with her. She knows that. She feels it. You just need to be here for her. That’s all that matters. That’s all you can do.”
Her simple, direct words cut through the fog of my panic.Be here for her now.
Just as I was about to respond, the double doors at the end of the room swung open. A man in blue scrubs walked toward us, his expression calm, professional. My heart stopped.
“Family of Iris Holloway?” he asked.
I stood, my legs feeling unsteady. “Yes. I’m Austin. How is she?”
The surgeon, a man with kind, tired eyes, approached our quiet corner and gave us a reassuring smile. “The surgery went very well. The breaks were clean, a spiral fracture of the tibia in a couple of places. We were able to set them with a rod and a few plates. She’ll have a recovery ahead of her and some physical therapy, but I expect her to heal completely.”
Relief, so potent it made me dizzy, washed through me. I reached out and grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself.
“What about the concussion?” Brenna asked, her voice steady beside me.
