Page 9 of Love Wells Kept

“I don’t know.” I choose to be honest, though every word stabs between my ribs. “But the paramedics got here fast, and they took him to the hospital, so he’s in the best place he can be.”

Silent tears roll down her cheeks, and the back of her hand wipes her running nose. She opens her mouth to respond, pulling a string of saliva taut between her top and bottom teeth, and the only sound is a hoarse croak.

I hold my arms open, inviting her in and, like she did as a toddler, Odessa crawls out from her stuffed animal nest and curls up in my lap. I wrap around her, pressing my cheek firmly against her head. Unspoken fears hang in the air around us, and despite the endless things I want to say to ease her worries, nothing comes out. No word can be both comforting and true right now.

Once her sobs have slowed, I smooth a hand over her hair and say, “I need to go to the hospital and be with your dad, okay? I wanted to come up here and talk to you before I go.”

“I’m coming.”

“Not right now, Dess. I promise you’ll see him as soon as it’s allowed.” My lips plant a firm kiss on top of her head. “You know Daddy can’t go long without his best buddy, so I’m sure he’ll be missing you.”

“Can you tell him I love him?” She tilts her head to meet my eyes. “And to get better so we can buy me a horse like we were gonna today.”

A silent huff of laughter leaves my nostrils. “I’ll tell him.”

—

Thankfully someone other than me was of sound enough mind to get information from the paramedics about which hospital they were taking Jackson to. Of course it wasn’t the closest one, which means driving nearly three hours to get to him.

After I’ve spent a couple hours anxiously sitting in Austin’s backseat—fidgeting with every possible thing I could get my hands on to stop me from screaming—the truck lurches into the hospital parking lot, and we weave between rows of vehicles for what feels like a century as I stare out at the looming concrete building.

Austin pulls into a spot at the far side of the parking lot, and my emotionally drained body slips out of the backseat.

I clutch my purse strap, straightening up and tipping my head toward the building. “Jackson’s probably waiting in there for me to come and force the doctor to discharge him.”

“Like that time you had to rescue him from the woman at the bar?” Austin turns to look at me.

The brief memory of that day eases the nervous knotting in my guts. “I maintain that she was putting the moves on him, and he’s too polite to tell her to fuck off…but I’m not.”

Denny’s half-laugh falls flat. “Man, he’d be lost without you.”

Fuck. There’s the ache and twisting in my stomach again. I blink up at the overcast sky, fighting back the tears suddenly threatening my waterline.

“I’d be so lost without him, too.” My fingers jab into the inner corners of my eyes in a last-ditch attempt at stopping the flow.

Denny wraps an arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side. “Good thing neither of you will need to know what that’s like.”

“Yeah.” I exhale the word out at the same moment a blast of warm air hits us when the automatic front doors glide open.

As per usual, the hospital is dreary and depressing, and every ten feet there seems to be some new, overpowering smell. It’s doing awful things to my stomach, and I press a palm against my chest as if I have the magic powers needed to stop my nausea. I swallow it down and do my best not to breathe from my nose, which eventually turns into not breathing at all when we reach the busy emergency department.

“We’re here for Jackson Wells,” Austin tells a triage nurse.

Sitting on the other side of a desk, she eyes the three of us over her pink-framed glasses. “And you are?”

“Oh, uh…his brothers and wife.” He gestures wearily at each of us, as if she’s unable to tell who are the brothers and who is the wife. “He was airlifted here a little while ago.”

“He’s in surgery currently, but if you head upstairs to the ICU, that’s where he’ll be afterward.”

The three of us head in search of an elevator in silence, and when we’re stepping onto the ICU floor a couple minutes later, I blindly feel through the air for Denny’s hand. His palm meets mine, clammy and hot, and his grip tightens with every step toward the large, harrowing double doors leading into the intensive care unit.

Austin—thank God for Austin—takes the lead once again, pressing a buzzer on the wall and speaking with a cheery sounding woman on the other end, letting her know we’re here for Jackson. And with that, we’re instructed to wait….

“For how long?” Denny whispers the question to Austin, encouraging him to relay the question through the intercom.

“How long?” Austin asks gruffly.

“A couple more hours, maybe? You’re welcome to wait in the lobby area and I’ll come let you know when he can have visitors.”