Page 118 of When We Are Old

I shook off her grip and tried to sit up. Nausea climbed up my throat and I swallowed it back down. I fought against the black spots and their domineering attempt to take over my brain.

“Ronnie. He’s sleeping, love.”

“No. I need to see him now.”

I blinked up at Ryan, who'd thrown himself into the easy chair by the side of the bed. “Help me please.” I offered my hand, relieved when he got up and seemed keen to help me reach my goal.

He held his hand up to Lynn. “I’m not standing in her way; she looks like she could take me right now.”

He was right. I could. Desperation charged though my veins and despite my wobbly legs, and the spinning in my head making my eyes sting, I stood from the bed.

The side room I’d been placed in after my face plant was only around the corner from the waiting room we’d initially been in.

“He’s in recovery.” Lynn, deciding I wasn’t going to be held back, bustled ahead. “They'll only let one of us in at a time.”

“Have you been in?” My pulse thudded in my throat and I resisted the urge to throw up.

“Just briefly.” She grabbed my hand. “Ronnie. He’s in a bad way. You need to be ready.”

She said it, but all I could think was that he could be like anything other than dead. I could cope with anything other than that.

“Have you told the boys?”

“Yes, they are both okay. Hannah is amazing with them.”

I nodded, my hand resting on the door. “She’s been through this before, you know. Paul… Paul went skiing for a boy’s weekend and never came back.”

Lynn reached for my face and cupped my cheek. “I know. Matthew told me, years ago.”

I nodded, my eyes aching as though acid had been dropped into them. “He came to find me, you know?”

Lynn smiled. “I know.”

I had a feeling she knew everything. “Are you happy for me to go in for a while? Then I will get back and take Hannah off your hands.”

“Ronnie.” Lynn’s face frowned. “You don’t have to take Hannah anywhere. She’s family.”

“But you hardly know us.”

Lynn shrugged, but Ryan sighed loudly. “I’m aging a hundred years here. Can you just go in already, then you can see that he’s okay and stop passing out all over the place. I’ve got to go and get Hugo from the vets soon, and we're still waiting to hear from the police.”

“Oh, sorry.” I stepped away from the door. “Do you want to go in first? You should, you’re his brother.”

“Oh, good lord. No wonder you two have spent nearly two decades apart moping about each other.”

He pushed on the handle and opened the door, forcing me through the gap just as his words registered about the police… the bloody police… what?

A nurse by the bed looked up, but my feet stuck to the floor. A small room, it only held a bed, a chair, and the nurse’s equipment. On the bed was my six-foot-four Scot with a face like beautiful thunder.

Except it wasn’t.

His legs, covered in a splint, were raised off the bed. His face, oh God, his beautiful face was black and blue. Not a little bit, but all over. Eyes swollen, his nose covered in a bandage. The top of his head had been carefully wrapped in gauze and had a tube running out of it. Across the bruising, nestled an oxygen mask that almost hid him from view.

“Don’t worry, come closer. It’s mainly bandaging from the surgery; he had a nasty head wound.” The nurse beckoned me forward, but my legs wouldn’t move. My boots stuck to the shiny floor. The mechanical sound of a pump filled the silent room.

“He’s…” I didn’t have a suitable word. “He’s…”

“Being in a car crash will do this to you. Would have been much worse if the airbag hadn’t deployed. Although I hear he might have been trying to save a dog, so,” she shrugged, “maybe he could look a little better.