Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” I adopted the same tone I used when running a code or handing out assignments to the nursing staff at work, with no room for argument. “I’m going to stay right here next to him, cell phone out. You’re going to go down to the cafeteria and eat something hot and substantial.”
“Maybe.” Sean’s jaw continued to have a stubborn tilt.
“And then I pulled a favor with the nurses to find you an empty bed in the nearby wing the hospital is remodeling. You’ll be steps away. Not even as far as the hotel room. You trust me to call you immediately, right?”
“Few people I trust more.” Sean’s eyes turned soft and watery, and I patted his shoulder.
“Good.” I gave him a hand up out of the chair. “Now, I’m not asking, I’m telling. You need to do this so you can be there for Declan when he wakes up.”
“You’re right. I’m kind of a mess.” Sean scrubbed at his short hair and stubbly jaw.
“You are, but it’s completely understandable.” I squeezed his shoulder again, massaging lightly. “However, you have to take the same advice you’d give others in this situation.”
“Yeah.” Sean’s lower lip wobbled. “Fuck. I really am falling apart.”
“You are not.” I steered him toward the door before he could protest more. “You’re being incredibly strong. But even strong people need food and rest. Now go. Denver’s waiting.”
“Are the racing folks still here?” Sean asked with a frown.
“Not at the hospital, but weather delayed the tour from pushing out.” I didn’t know the usual protocol when a rider was injured, but for the first day or so, the waiting area had been filled with racing folks. The numbers had dwindled as the hours stretched into days. “I’m sure the mechanic guy and others will check in before they leave town.”
“Good. I’m kind of glad they’re not here, messed up as that sounds. The bigger the vigil, the more it felt like he wouldn’t make it. And God, I need him to make it, Jonas.”
“I know.” I wrapped him in a tight hug. “He’s getting the best care possible to give him the greatest odds. Trust.”
“And pray. Might stop by the chapel on the way to food.”
“You do that.” I shooed him out of the room. I’d stopped talking to God a long time ago, but if it helped Sean, I was all for it.
“Going, going. But talk to Declan?” Halfway out the door, Sean gazed at me with big eyes. “They say that’s helpful for brain injuries.”
“I will,” I promised. I settled into the chair Sean had vacated, pulling it closer to the bed so I could speak in low tones to Declan.
“Hey, Declan.” I’d talked to comatose patients before, but this time was particularly hard for reasons I didn’t entirely understand. “I know you don’t really know me, but I’m a friend of your dad’s. He loves you so much.” I had to stop to look at the far wall, the monitors, anything to keep my voice steady. “You’re lucky to have such a big family. They’re all pulling for you.”
No way could I keep up the family talk. Not here in Utah where old wounds I’d thought long scabbed over had reopened, raw and painful. The Murphy family was the opposite of the Jensens, and dwelling on those differences hurt.
“You keep resting. I’m going back to my book.” I pulled out my phone, opening the e-book of the mystery I’d been reading during all the waiting. “Maybe you’d like to follow along? This series has some funny beats.”
And so I started reading softly to Declan, doing voices the way I had when reading to Eric’s kids or my younger siblings back in the day. I supposed I could have flipped on an audiobook, but reading was something active I could do.
Please wake up. I wasn’t the praying type, not anymore, but I could still offer that plea to the universe, hoping Declan came back to us, and soon.
Chapter Three
Declan
I woke in stages from a deep sleep filled with weirdly vivid dreams where I’d been alternately frozen solid or filled with fire, burning from the inside out. My limbs were heavy, practically melted into the mattress. The lure of more sleep was too sweet to pass up, so I would almost wake, only to fall back to sleep, grateful my always-hated alarm had yet to intrude on dreamland. On and on, I drifted in and out of sleep. For a while, I had a vague sense of needing to pee, but that passed, and I dozed on. Something beeped, but it wasn’t my alarm, so not my problem.
My dreams shifted to an idyllic countryside, a little village I’d never visited yet seemed intimately familiar. I was riding a bicycle, like actually pedaling through the tiny town with an overfilled handlebar basket. Somehow, I knew I was dreaming, but it was too pleasant a place to leave.