Page 170 of Graves

“You did well,” the younger paramedic says once we’re racing toward the hospital with sirens blaring.

“Will he make it?”

“He lost a lot of blood. The artery in his right arm is badly damaged. He needs surgery and probably a transfusion.”

The thought that Aran might not survive tightens like a noose around my throat. I keep stroking his forehead while the paramedic checks the IV and oxygen.

We reach the hospital shortly after, and Aran is handed over to the doctors. I follow them inside, only to be stopped by a nurse who steers me toward the waiting area.

While she sits down with a clipboard and tries to get me to sit too, I pace like a trapped animal. She attempts to calm me with questions, but it only makes it worse. Being confronted with everything I don’t know about Aran just heightens my panic. Insurance number? Family? Allergies?

“How the hell would I know if he has allergies?” I feel so helpless. “We’ve only known each other for two months!”

“Okay,” the young woman says, a little intimidated but still calm. “Maybe you know someone who can help with that. I’ll come back later.”

I stand there lost for a moment, then start pacing again. I’m not the only one in the waiting room. A family sits in the back, an elderly couple near the window.

The nurse is right. I need help.

I call Fox.

I don’t even know what I say to him, but he promises to come immediately. I also text Olena and Nahla. Writing keeps me from losing it. It’s already bad enough that my hands are still sticky with Aran’s blood and I can’t do anything about it. I’m relieved when both reply.

Half an hour later, Liam and Fox walk through the door.

“How is he?” Liam asks.

I shake my head.

“But he’s alive, right?” he presses.

“Yes.”

Liam takes a few steps, unable to sit still.

“Thanks for calling me,” Fox says, scanning me from head to toe. His gaze lingers on my blood-soaked pants.

“Sorry, we haven’t met,” Liam says, offering his hand. “I’m Liam, the drummer.”

“Koh,” I reply. When I go to shake his hand and see the dried blood on my palm, I pull back. “Shit…” I mutter, clenching my fist.

Liam freezes. He finally takes me in, and his expression shifts with shock.

“Come on,” Fox says, guiding me down the hall to the public restroom. “Liam isn’t great with blood.”

He washes my hands like I’m a child, talking to me the whole time, assuring me everything will be okay.

“Aran is strong,” he says confidently. “He’ll pull through.”

Fox has a calming presence. He doesn’t demand anything from me, and I’m grateful for it. No “You have to be strong now” or “Don’t lose it.”

I calm down and watch as he dries my hands with paper towels. Then he leads me back to the waiting area, where Liam is filling out forms with the nurse.

I sink into a chair across from them, feeling utterly drained. The adrenaline is crashing hard.

“Do you want coffee? Or tea?” Fox asks. “I can grab something from the cafeteria down the hall.”

“Ugh…” I groan, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands. “None of that’s drinkable. Just water.”