Page 88 of Austin

The nurse pulls me back again. “Let them work. He’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?” I scream back at him. “Did you see him? The gash on his head?” I look down at my hands and the blood from his wound that lines the crevices of my palms.

Everything is a blur. Time stands still, yet everything around me races out of control. I crookedly park Gregg’s truck in between two spaces and somehow get back into the hospital.

Gregg and his girlfriend, Julie, show up within an hour. I’ve never met her before, but she’s quick to ask if I need anything and offers me a flask, which I decline. Gregg takes a seat next to me, and I watch as his knee bounces with worry.

“Bryce is on his way,” Gregg says. “He’s a donor for the hospital. The Sextons have a children’s wing named after them. They’ll make sure Austin’s presence here stays private.”

“That’s good,” I say because I need something to be good. Right now, everything just feels wrong.

After a few minutes, a nurse walks into the waiting room and approaches us. “Are you with the gentleman they brought in on the stretcher?” she asks.

“Yes, we are,” Gregg responds, standing quickly. “Is he okay?”

“They had to take him into surgery for some internal brain bleeding, so we’re not sure what’s happening yet.”

I cover my face with my hands as every ounce of calm I started to feel, knowing he was in the hands of doctors, disappears, and panic slaps me in the face again.

“How did the patient sustain his injuries?” she asks.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“He fell down a flight of stairs,” Gregg states calmly. “He hit his head on the wrought iron railing.”

I’m amazed that he can be so calm while he tells such lies.

The nurse glances at me and notices a cut on my arm. “Ma’am, are you okay? That cut looks fresh.”

My eyes open wide as I remember feeling the scrape against my arm as I was thrust into the car door. I place my hand over one, wincing at the pain it causes.

“They were carrying a glass table down the stairs. She must have hurt herself during the chaos of it all,” Gregg says.

I gulp. “I guess I didn’t even notice that I’d gotten cut, too,” I say fearfully.

“I’ll get you a bandage for that,” the nurse says. “You can go up to the fourth floor waiting room. A nurse will come get you there when he’s out of surgery.”

I look back at Gregg, who motions for me to follow the nurse. She gives me a large, rectangular bandage and a packet of Neosporin. When I come back, Gregg, Julie, and I head upstairs.

The floor is quiet as we walk into the empty waiting room. I don’t know if they put us here because this is where Austin is or if it’s to keep the Sexton family away from prying eyes. I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.

Time dreadfully ticks by.

Eva arrives, dressed in the jeans and silk top she wore to the race. I wrap my arms around her, holding her so tightly, trying to steal any strength she has.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” she whispers. “Is he okay?”

“We don’t know,” I sob into her shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do. He’s been in there for almost two hours. They’ve said nothing. Nothing, Eva. What if …” I sob harder, covering my face as she holds me against her. “I fell. You told me not to fall, and I fell so damn hard. Now, I’m afraid he won’t be here to catch me.”

She pulls me down to a couch. “Don’t think like that. You have to think positively. He’s going to be okay. We have to believe.”

“I didn’t even get a chance to tell him that I’m in love with him.”

She pats my head as I curl up against her shoulder. “He knows, sweetie. He knows.”

My entire body starts to shake from both exhaustion and adrenaline. What feels like hours starts to take its toll. Nausea runs through my body, and chills constantly make me shake.