Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I can see the worry on her own face. Her baby is in the hospital, too, and I know she has to be sick with fear.
“I told them not to go,” I say and wipe my hand over my face. “I had a feeling, a gut feeling, that something bad was going to happen.”
“Beating yourself up is a waste of time,” Caleb says shortly. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he maneuvers us through downtown to the hospital. Before I know it, we’re underground in the parking garage, and I can breathe a sigh of relief.
But when we run into the ER, I’m stunned to find that it’s packed.
“I’m going to the desk,” I announce and rush through the people and to the front desk, where several people are intaking patients. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but my son was just brought in on an ambulance. He’s a minor.”
“Name?” one of them asks.
“Caleb Ambrose.”
She picks up the phone and speaks to someone, then looks up at me. “They’re bringing him out to you.”
I almost collapse with that news. If they’re able to bring him out, he’s not hurt.
“And what about Drew Montgomery?” I demand. “He’s with my son.”
“Are you family?” she asks.
“Well, I—”
“Yes,” Caleb says from behind me. “She’s his fiancée.”
She speaks into the phone again, asking about Drew, then looks at me again. “He can’t have visitors quite yet.”
“Shit,” I mutter, and pace until my son comes walking out of a door, holding the hand of a nurse. “Baby!”
“Mom!”
He runs to me, wraps his arms around me, and buries his face in my stomach, crying. I look up to the nurse. “Is he hurt at all?”
“Not even a bruise,” she says. “But he’s very brave. I’ll be back in a few when Drew can see you.”
“Please hurry.”
“It shouldn’t be long.”
“Oh, baby, what happened?” I ask as I lead him over to where Caleb and Brynna are waiting.
“We got the pizza,” he says. “And we were going to pull out of the parking lot, but then I distracted Drew because I said that they forgot the breadsticks, and he couldn’t stop, and the other cars couldn’t stop, and it was like pinball. His side got hit, and he’s really hurt. His head was bleeding, and they said his shoulder is disassociated.”
“Dislocated?” I ask him.
“Yeah, that.”
“Please don’t let him have a concussion,” I say, closing my eyes. When I open them, I look right into the very worried gaze of Brynna.
“And then,” Caleb continues, “the firemen came, and Drew told them to get me first. He said, ‘Get my son first.’ He called me his son, and it made my stomach jittery, but in a good way, and then I called him dad, and is he going to be okay?”
“Yes, baby.” I brush his hair off his forehead and hug him close. “He’s going to be okay.”
Brynna’s crying now, and her husband looks miserable, but the nurse returns and flags me down.
“We’ve got him,” Old Caleb says, wrapping his arm around my son. “He’s safe with us.”
“Please keep us updated,” Brynna requests, and I nod as I follow the nurse back to where the rooms are. It feels like we’ve walked a half mile when we reach a room with a curtain pulled, and I walk in, expecting the worst.
But Drew smiles at me from the bed. He has a bandage above his left eye, and his arm is in a sling, but he’s sitting up and is fully alert.
“Well, hi there, beautiful.”
“Oh, my God.” I hurry over to him and kiss his cheek, then his lips and hold his face in my hands. “You scared the fuck out of me, Drew Montgomery.”
“Yeah, me, too. Is Caleb okay?”
“He’s with your parents in the waiting room. They said he didn’t have a scratch on him. He’s scared and worried about you.” I look up as a doctor walks in. “How bad is it?”
“You’re a lucky man,” the doctor says to Drew with a smile.
“And I know it.”
“Mr. Montgomery has a dislocated shoulder and a laceration above his left eye.”
“What about the concussion?” I ask.
“What concussion?” the two of them ask in unison.
“He doesn’t have a concussion?”
“No,” the doctor says. “And I know his medical history. He doesn’t show any signs of a concussion at all, and we’ve been keeping a close eye on that. His shoulder will take some time to heal, but all in all, he’s doing well.”
“Does that mean I can go home?” Drew asks hopefully.
“Yes. You’re on some good medication, so no driving for the rest of the day. You’ll need to follow up with a doctor for that shoulder, and you’ll likely need physical therapy.”
“We have that covered,” I reply, thinking of our extensive facilities at the training center. “What about medication?”
“Ibuprofen,” the doctor replies. “You’re going to be sore; there’s no getting around that. Ice it, take the ibuprofen, and alternate with acetaminophen. It’ll help.”