Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“How’s Rafe?”
“Rafe,” Dr. Costa muttered. “Do you have family in the waiting room?” She shook her head as he led her down the hall and into a small room that fit no more than three or four people.
Before he had a chance to say anything, she knew.
“He’s hurt badly, isn’t he?”
There wasn’t a nod or a shake of his head, but the answer was in his eyes.
“How badly?”
Dr. Costa closed the door behind them and motioned for her to take a seat. She refused.
“I don’t know everything that happened earlier; what I do know is Rafe suffered severe trauma to his head and neck. Despite the quick efforts of bystanders and the paramedics, we were unable to save him.”
Nadia didn’t hear him correctly.
Surely, he hadn’t . . .
But he had.
“Wh-what?”
“I’m very sorry to tell you, but your husband is brain dead.”
Nadia shook her head. “No. No. He was running and . . .” She paced the small room. “He’s healthy and he’s running.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting her shirt. “He’s not . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word. She refused.
He saved that woman’s life.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Dr. Costa reached out and touched her elbow.
“But how?”
“We won’t know until the crash report comes in. Someone will be by to talk to you about this shortly. Without the details, I can only assume from the damage to Rafe’s body . . . his legs are shattered, which is where he took the brunt of the impact. According to the paramedics who brought him in, Rafe flew a distance and landed on his head. Right now, he’s on life support,” he told her. “The machines are breathing for him until we could find his next of kin. Would you like me to take you to your husband?”
The finality of his words sank into her mind. Her husband, her best friend, her lover, her partner, was gone.
Nadia fell to her knees, caught by Luca before she crumpled to the ground. “I’ve got you, Mrs. Karlsson,” he said as he helped her stand. She could barely walk and leaned heavily onto Luca for support. They followed Dr. Costa to Rafe’s room. He held the door while Luca guided Nadia to her husband’s side.
“Rafe.” His name came out of her mouth in a wail. She covered his body with hers and cried at the sound and feel of his heart beating. It didn’t matter to her that a machine was keeping him alive; to her, he was there. Sound, mind and body.
His beautiful face, the one she’d loved from the second she’d met him, was marred with road rash. She touched him gently, needing to feel him under the pads of her fingers. “Open your eyes, baby,” she said to him, knowing deep down he’d never leave her.
Nothing.
Nadia took him in. He was stock still, with a tube coming from his mouth. His arms—stilled at his side—sat atop the white blanket. She cupped his face, pressing kisses on his dry lips.
“Come back,” she whispered. “Come back to me, Rafe. Don’t leave me.” She had watched enough medical drama shows to know talking to patients always made them miraculously wake up, but deep in her bones, she knew they wouldn’t get a miracle. Not today.
“Is there someone we can call for you?”
Nadia shook her head. She’d have to be the one to make the calls. Even though she didn’t want to say the words out loud, the news about Rafe needed to come from her.
“What are our options?” she asked Dr. Costa. “Surgery?”
“No, I’m sorry. There isn’t anything more we can do for him.”
“Nothing at all?”
He shook his head slowly. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
None of this made sense. How could her husband, someone who was running with hundreds of other people, get hit by a car?
She looked from Dr. Costa back to her husband. “He’ll wake up.”
Dr. Costa walked toward one of the machines. “This one is monitoring his heart. It shows rhythm because the machine is keeping him alive. This one here”—he pointed to another one, which had a continuous straight line going across the screen—“this is his brain activity. The brain isn’t like the heart, where we can restart it. The trauma he suffered, it’s irreparable.”
Her husband was gone.
A nurse brought her a chair, along with a pitcher of water and a cup. “There’s a bathroom through that door if you need to use the restroom,” she told Nadia. “If you need anything, please press this button, and I’ll come running. What’s your name?”
“Nadia Karlsson,” she told her.
“And your husband’s?”
Nadia knew the nurse asked because they needed his name for their records. He would become someone to them now, and not just “Patient X” or the standard “John Doe.”
“Rafe Karlsson,” Nadia said through a haggard breath.