For some reason, theJeopardytheme song started playing in Mack’s head, and he could hardly stand in one spot. He was so antsy after sitting on the long flight. And he wanted to get to Addy. Desperately.
“Okay, yeah, sure.” She nodded as she spoke. “Yeah, I can do that.”
She hung up. “Beth Ann is coming out to talk to you.”
“Thanks.” He moved to the side.
A woman wearing bright orange scrubs stepped through the locked door, running a hand over her black hair slicked back into a ponytail. “You must be Mack. I found your name in an address book in Addy’s purse, so I’m okay with sharing. She’s in ICU. Room three. But I’m not sure they’re going to be as flexible and let you in to see her. They’re real sticklers on letting only family or emergency contacts in. Since you aren’t listed as her emergency contact in our system, I’m guessing she didn’t want you added when they entered her data.”
He would ignore that part for now and focus on learning about her condition. “So she’s awake then?”
“Yes. We’re uncertain how long she was unconscious. She’s confused about the accident. Doesn’t remember it. Not at all.”
Memory loss.He didn’t like the sound of that. “Is that concerning?”
“Could be, but it can happen after a traumatic incident and brain injury.”
“How serious is the injury?”
“Like I said, we don’t know how long she was out, and time is a huge factor when assessing an injury of this nature. A minor or mild brain injury is defined as loss of consciousness for thirty minutes or less. Then thirty minutes to an hour and you have amoderate injury. More than an hour, severe. She was conscious by the time she arrived here, though she wasn’t completely lucid, and we had trouble keeping her awake.”
“So which one is it?” He was starting to get frustrated. “Mild? Severe? What?”
“The doctor is uncertain,” she replied. “Imaging wasn’t remarkable for hematomas, but she has brain swelling and many other symptoms consistent with a traumatic brain injury. The type of swelling she’s experiencing generally doesn’t peak until forty-eight to seventy-two hours from the time of injury and then diminishes from there. So her status could change.”
“What happens now?”
“They’ll watch her intracranial pressure in the ICU and act fast if it rises to unsafe levels.”
“And if it does?”
She clamped down on her lips and then shook her head. “That’s a bridge they’ll cross if needed, and we really don’t need to talk about it yet. I prefer to think optimistically that the swelling will stabilize or go down.”
He’d like to think that way too, but his worry wouldn’t let him. “Will she make a full recovery?”
“It’s uncertain. If the swelling doesn’t progress to those unsafe levels and the other deficits she’s experiencing resolve, she’ll be discharged soon. As to a full recovery, it’s not unusual for someone who suffered a TBI to have lingering effects.” Her phone rang, and she grabbed it from her pocket. “I have to take this. Sorry. ICU’s on the first floor.”
“Thank you,” Mack said, though he didn’t know if he was thankful or not. He just didn’t know what to think. Other than when he reached Addy’s room and saw her, he would likely lose it unless he took a few moments to process this news and gather his composure.
He got directions to the ICU, but once he reached the locked unit, as much he wanted to see her, he couldn’t pick up thephone to call the nurse to let him in. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to deal with hearing any bad news. It was almost better not knowing.
He leaned against the wall. Closed his eyes. Breathed. Just the way his counselor taught him when he started into one of his flashbacks. Find his center. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Problem was, Addy was his center. She was where his mind went when he had to clear out the horrors of war. To find a place where he could keep breathing and moving.
Father, help me to be the man Addy needs right now. And heal her. Please. Heal her. Not for me. Forher. For the amazing woman she is. For all she has to do in this world still. All the peopleher crusading personality will help.
The ICU door opened. He let his foot fall to the floor and opened his eyes.
“Oh, hi,” a female nurse with a bright smile and wavy blond hair said. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Addy—Addison Leigh’s husband, Mack,” he said. “Mack Jordan.”
“Husband?” She appraised him, and her smile fell, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. Addy didn’t say she was married, and she isn’t wearing a ring.”
“We’re separated,” Mack explained but didn’t like the way the nurse’s eyes tightened even more when he did. “But I’m still her emergency contact so the ER called me.”
“Oh, right. Right.” She nibbled on her lip. “Did she go back to using her maiden name?”
