Page 72 of Chasing Clouds

“Drive safe.”

It takes five hours and fifteen minutes between walking out my door and into the automatic doors of the hospital. I pushed the limit on how fast I should’ve been driving, but I couldn’t help it. All I could think about was getting to him and seeing that he’s okay.

The first thing I’m hit with is the smell. I hate the smell. There’s this funky mixture to it of disinfectant and sickness that permeates everything it touches. It reminds you that hospitals are full of death, and I can’t help but wonder how many people have already died here today.

Died . . . hospital . . . Clare.

I haven’t been back in a hospital since Clare died, and hate isn’t a strong enough word for how I feel about being here. Plus, I’m going to have to tell Reid soon. He deserves to know, and know it all.

Jack meets me at the elevators, wraps his arm around me, and smiles as we climb in to make our way to his room. Jack is a little bit taller than Reid, and wider. Being this close to him, although slightly comforting, is weird, and I can’t wait to be in Reid’s arms instead.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He squeezes my shoulder.

“Me too. How did you get my number?” I ask as the doors open and we step out into the hall.

“The team has it on file.”

“Oh.”

He nods at the two nurses at the central station then stops in front of Reid’s door.

“He looks worse than he is, just remember that,” he says in a low voice.

“What exactly happened to him?”

“Stepped out from between two parked cars crossing the parking lot, not paying attention, and he got hit.”

“Oh, no.” My hand flies to cover my mouth.

“He broke his left wrist and his left collarbone, and he has a concussion.”

“Is the concussion why he was admitted?”

“Yeah. For the first couple of hours he was sick a lot and kept repeating the same things over and over again, but the CT scan showed no fracture or bleeding, and neither one of his breaks required surgery, so that’s good.”

I’m certain my face shows exactly how I feel: relieved and then panicked. “Football?”

“Doctor says the breaks are clean and he’ll be as good as new in six to eight weeks with some rehab on his wrist. The silver lining here is it wasn’t his knee, leg, or ankle. Those require more time, and some never fully recover.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

“Yeah, it is.” He pats me on the back and then opens the door.

As we walk in, I see there are two beds. It’s a shared room, and I’m incredibly grateful that the first bed is empty. I know Reid is just sleeping, but he looks dead, and I can’t help the anxiety this causes or the tears that come.

His face is scratched up on the left side with what looks like road rash, and his head is wrapped where he must have landed on it. His wrist is bandaged, and they’ve wrapped an elastic bandage over his arm and around his body to keep it immobile and pressed against him.

Jack was right, he does look terrible, and my heart aches for him. No one wants to see someone they love in this situation.

Love.

Yep, there’s no more denying to myself what I feel for him. I do love him, and even if it’s not reciprocated, at least for a short time I was the lucky one who got to show him that love, a love he so deserves.

Jack briefly touches my elbow to draw my attention, and it takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from Reid.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Now that you’re here, I’m going to head out. I need to get some sleep before my workout in the morning. If you need anything, you have my number, and don’t hesitate use it.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks again for calling me, Jack. I really appreciate it.”