by Jordyn White
Whitney describes how she repelled down to him with 911 on the phone, and followed their instructions to try to contain the bleeding and stabilize him until they got there. If I’m understanding her correctly, it sounds like he would’ve bled out right there without her. Thank God she kept her cool.
Through it all, Emma’s hand is on my thigh, an anchor of comfort in the midst of yet another tragic family storm.
I just barely make it through a light before it turns red, and take a left down Alameda Boulevard, the fastest route to the hospital.
“Rayce,” Emma says, her hand still on my thigh. “Let me drive.”
“No, I’m fine. Wait, Whitney, which hospital? Swan Pointe Medical Center?” I hope to God he doesn’t need emergency care somewhere else. That would not be a good sign.
“I... What?...” It sounds like she’s talking to somebody else, probably one of the medics. “Rayce, do you know Connor’s blood type?”
I press the accelerator harder. “A positive. Swan Pointe Medical Center, right?”
“Yes.”
Thank God.
“I have to go,” Whitney says. “We’re here.”
We can’t lose him.
“Have you called anyone else?” I ask her.
“No. I called you first.”
“I’ll take care of it. We’ll be there soon.”
Hang in there, Connor. Fight.
“Okay.” She sounds on the verge of tears again.
“Whitney,” I say firmly. “Stay strong.”
“Okay.” Then she’s gone and the car echoes with the rain pelting the ceiling and the glass. Emma’s hand is still on my thigh, thank God. I need her. I need her now and forever, but especially now.
I hit the button to call Lizzy, wishing I could spare her this. I was the one to call her when Mom and Dad went missing. I was the one to tell her when they found the bodies. I was the one to tell Connor what happened when we finally tracked him down days later.
By the time this evening is over, am I going to have to tell her she’s lost a brother, too?
Emma squeezes my thigh. “He’ll be okay.”
She doesn’t know any better than I do, but it’s reassuring to hear her say it anyway.
After I’ve placed calls to both Lizzy and Corrine, who are both closer to the hospital than we are and may just beat us there, there’s nothing to do but drive. It seems every car on the road is nothing but an obstacle. I wish everyone would just get the hell out of the way.
We finally pull up to the hospital only to see at a glance that the parking lot’s packed. I growl in frustration.
“Go to the front,” Emma says. “I’ll park for you.”
God bless her.
“Thank you.” I pull up to the emergency room doors, throw the car into park, grip her hand, and turn to her. I don’t want to leave her, but have to get in there. “Come find me.”
Please.
She nods. “I will.”
Chapter 47
Emma
I’m not even thinking at this point, I’m just acting. I know it’s not the same as what Rayce has to be feeling, but I’m worried about his brother, too. And Whitney, and Rayce, and all of them.
I end up getting a spot nearby—someone else was pulling out—so I’m not far behind Rayce. I go through the sliding doors to find him on the far side of the ER waiting room approaching a sizeable group of people who are still standing and seem to have recently gathered together themselves.
I know Ms. Elizabeth Rivers from the resort, of course, but I know everyone else in attendance too, because Rayce has shown me pictures and told me all about them. Lizzy’s fiancé, Brett, is there, as well as their slender, dark-haired cousin Corrine, and her brick wall of a boyfriend, Mason. He is a giant next to her, but has his hand placed protectively on the small of her back.
The last person in the group is Whitney. Even if I hadn’t seen pictures of her, I would’ve known who she was simply because she’s wearing outdoor gear that’s clearly spent the day in the great outdoors, and because her face carries more fear and worry than any of them.
No one has spotted me, but they’ve spotted Rayce. Lizzy’s face instantly changes as she rushes toward him and clings to him, burying her face in his neck. My steps slow, unwilling to interrupt this moving, big brother moment. I’m an outsider here in general, and not sure if I should go over there or hang back and wait for him to notice me and take charge from there.
As I’m hesitating, he seems to be saying something comforting in his sister’s ear, because she nods against his neck, then pulls back and wipes her eyes determinedly.
That’s when she spots me. Her gaze sharpens and he turns.
“Emma.”
He comes toward me and I start moving toward him again. “You’re just outside the door,” I say, gesturing toward the side of the entrance where his car is parked.
“Thank you,” he says, but before I can give him his keys and leave him to his family, he grabs my hand and pulls me over to them. This is less the light, affectionate handhold of a date, and more the strength-gathering handhold of someone in crisis.
I respond instinctively, holding him firmly back.
“Whitney, this is Emma,” he says, beginning a round of quick introductions that’s peppered with curious glances between Rayce and I. But there’s hardly any time for their curiosity to turn into awkwardness. He tells me, “Connor’s in surgery,” and the group is immediately back to the more pressing matter at hand.
Rayce asks Whitney a question that gets her explaining what the medics did for his brother in transit and what else they said about his condition, but before things can go any further, we hear an authoritative female voice call, “Whitney Rivers?”
We all turn to find a nurse in yellow scrubs with tiny stethoscopes all over them coming this way. The group moves forward as one to meet her.
“I’ll take you back to surgical waiting,” she says.
“Is he out?” Rayce asks.
“No, sir. I don’t have any information. I was just told to bring the family back.”
When she tells them to follow her, I’m prepared to give Rayce his keys and tell him I’ll be praying for his brother, but instead he tugs my hand and brings me with them.
I don’t even know if he realizes he’s done it. He’s talking to the nurse, asking questions, the clear authority and patriarch of this family. He is strong and focused and... gripping my hand like his life depends on it.
I think back on what he told me in the car, turning it over in my mind. If he really was manipulating me with that story about why he was with those other employees, he truly is a master. I find it totally believable that he would fall apart like that at the loss of his parents. His deep devotion to his family has been obvious from the start and is even more clear now.
I can just imagine myself telling Pierce what Rayce said, and Pierce giving me the ‘men like that know how to put women under a spell’ speech all over again. I can just hear him reminding me not to fall for it and to assume anything Rayce says is a lie. ‘Because there’s words, and there’s evidence,’ Pierce has said. ‘Anyone can spit out words.’
Maybe he’s right about the kind of man Rayce is, and the kind of woman I am, because with or without words, all Rayce has to do is be near me and I want to be under his spell.
My damned foolish heart doesn’t even care that he’s a rascal, it just wants him no matter what. But even in the midst of all this worry over Connor and dismay at my own emotional weakness, at least my brain has the sense to remind my heart that the answer is still no.
We find our seats in the surgery waiting area, away from the only other two people here, huddled together on the other side of the room. That’s when I realize just how watchful of his family Rayce is. The other men are offering comfort to their women, too, but he seems to be keeping an eye out to make sure there is not even the slightest unmet need.
Brett is too busy speaking words of comfort to his fian
cée to notice she needs a tissue, so Rayce quietly hands her the box. Corrine rubs Whitney’s back and offers to get her some coffee, so Rayce gives an unspoken signal to Mason, who willingly says, “Stay here, honey. I’ll get it. Does anybody else need anything?”
But the person this family’s protector is watching the closest is Whitney. Her husband isn’t here to comfort her, and she seems quietly numb to everyone else’s efforts. She’s probably in shock.
But what can anybody do?
It’s not until everyone’s settled and the true waiting begins that he seems to realize he’s been gripping my hand this entire time. He blinks at it, then looks at me apologetically.
He leans slightly closer and I lean in slightly, too. My pulse kicks up a notch, and I catch a soft whiff of his cologne.
“I didn’t even ask if you wanted to stay,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” I whisper back. “I’ll wait with you.” I don’t care what else is going on. I’m not leaving him at a time like this.
He squeezes my hand tightly and holds my eyes like he has so much to say, but between the sorrow of this situation and the mess between us, he can’t.
“I’ll wait,” I say again.
“Thank you.” Then he does something to make me want to crawl right into his lap and beg him to change his womanizing ways just for me: he puts a gentle, almost tentative kiss on the back of my hand.
I catch Lizzy watching him do this. Her eyebrows raise slightly, then she looks at me in surprise. She looks at Rayce with a kind of wonder. Is she not used to seeing that kind of tender affection from her sturdy, older brother? Or is she surprised he should be so ballsy to be this openly affectionate with the employee with whom he was having an illicit affair?
Is he being surprisingly sweet or shockingly cocky?
The RN comes around the corner from the nurse’s station and everyone straightens, hopeful, but she heads for the couple on the far side of the room. We all settle back in, resigned to more waiting. But I am watching Rayce, and Rayce is watching Whitney, and Whitney is staring pale-faced at a spot on the floor.
Chapter 48
Rayce
We’ve been waiting an hour, and still no word. The couple who had been in the waiting room with us initially has since gone, and later been replaced by an older gentleman. The same nurse who brought us here comes in again, but this time for the old man.
This not knowing is maddening for my own selfish reasons, but is only made worse watching Whitney get more and more agitated.
The nurse leaves the room.
Whitney drops her elbows on her knees and presses her fingers against her eyes. Noticing this, Corrine rubs her back. But Whitney doesn’t need more back rubs. She needs information. We all do.
I stand, Emma’s hand still in mine. “Come on.” I gesture to Whitney and she rises immediately.
I lead her around the corner to the nurse’s desk and draw our nurse over with the crook of my finger. “What can you tell us about Connor’s condition?”
“I’m sorry,” she says in a practiced, professional voice. “We just have to wait for the doctor to get out of surgery.”
“Anything you can go back and find out for us would be appreciated.”
“I’m sorry but—”
“She needs something,” I say firmly, putting my hand on Whitney shoulder.
The nurse looks between us then nods. “Yes, all right. I’ll see what I can do.”
As the nurse shuffles off, Whitney turns to me. “Thank you,” she says softly, still looking so pale.
“Of course,” I say, turning toward the waiting area and wishing I could do more.
“Wait,” she says.
I face her. She’s looking uncertainly between me and Emma. For a second I think she’s going to ask Emma to leave, because she clearly has something she wants to say, but then she goes ahead with it. “There’s a part I didn’t tell you.”
I don’t even have the chance to ask what when she says, “The boulder.”
“The boulder?”
“It wouldn’t have hit him except...” Her eyes well up with tears. “...He... he pushed me out of the way.” Her expression crumples and she covers her face with her hands.
“Hey, now.” I let go of Emma’s hand for the first time and bring Whitney into my arms. She falls against my chest, crying into her hands. I tighten my hold on her, trying to help her settle. This won’t do. She has enough to worry about without adding to her own burdens. “It was an accident.”
“But if I’d reacted quicker he wouldn’t have had to.”
“He would rather it be him than you, I promise you that.” I let her cry a bit longer, but not too long. She has to stay strong. She can’t fall apart.
Not yet.
I pull her back and hold her firmly by the shoulders. I give her a resolute look. Following my lead, she forces her crying back down, blinking up at me.
“Whitney, listen to me. You did everything right.”
She’s looking at me like she wants to believe me, really needs to believe me, but is afraid I’m wrong.
I’m not wrong. Connor’s sweet wife does not need to start spiraling downward into a pit of self-blame.
“This was not your fault. There’s not a person here who would fault you for anything. It was an accident. That’s all.”
“Okay,” she says quietly.
“Do you hear me?”
She nods, her eyes holding mine as she grows more resolute.
“You kept your cool today, and soon Connor will be thanking you for it.”
Please don’t let me be wrong about that.
She gives me a slight smile, and though the worry is still there, I can see a portion of her burden has been lifted. “Thank you.”
There’s that strength I knew she had.
I’ve always liked Whitney. She’s been good for Connor, and he’s been good for her. I just pray to God I’m not now looking at my brother’s widow.
I give her shoulders a final squeeze, and let go.
Chapter 49
Rayce
An hour later, Connor is finally out of surgery but still in critical condition. The doctor gives us a thorough report, thankfully being patient about answering our many questions. Connor’s back and neck aren’t broken, which is nothing short of a miracle, but we’re not out of the woods yet as it’s unclear whether his body will recover from the onslaught of injuries and repairs. There’s a long list of places they had to stitch him up, inside and out. The next twelve to twenty-four hours will be critical.
The truth is, we could still lose him.
The surgeon encourages us to go home and get some rest, as it’s a waiting game now. When Whitney asks if she can see him, he tries to tell us it’s past visiting hours for the ICU. I convince him otherwise. Whitney and I are allowed to go back first.
I don’t know why the hell I didn’t insist Emma come with us. Seeing Connor lying there unconscious, in that state, with his tearful wife telling him to fight for them while she kisses him over and over was almost more than I could stand. And still the question of will he make it or won’t he continues to go unanswered.
When we head back to the waiting room to give Lizzy and Corrine the next turn, Lizzy, Brett, and Mason are there, but both Emma and Corrine are nowhere to be seen.
A flight of panic catches in my chest. “Where’s Emma?”
“She went to the restroom,” Lizzy answers, getting to her feet. I exhale, relieved. “How is he?”
“Sleeping. Sprouting tubes. You and Corrine can go in now. Where is she?”
“In the chapel. I’ll get her.”
The chapel’s in the other direction. “No, you go ahead. I’ll get her.”
Whitney plops down next to Brett, who pats her on the knee, and I go to fetch Corrine.
The hospital’s little chapel is a denomination-neutral round room with soft benches around the edges, a few side tables with artificial floral arrangements, and strategically placed box
es of Kleenex. The lighting is soft and muted, and a stained glass mural of a tree and lilies serves as the focal point of the room.
Corrine is sitting across the room, her forehead resting on her hands, which are clutched together in prayer.
I’m halfway to her when she realizes I’m there. She hops up, the fear of bad news in her eyes.
“There’s nothing new,” I say, and she takes a breath. “Do you want to go see him?”
“Is it getting too late? Will they let me?”
“They should. Come get me if they don’t.”
“All right.”
She comes in for a hug, and I hold her firmly. “Not used to being on the other side of the hospital bed, are you?”
She lets out a little laugh, still hanging on to me. “Damn right. This sucks.”
“He’s a fighter. He’ll be okay.”
Please let him be okay.
She nods, “Yeah.” She lets me go and leaves the room, the door closing with a soft whoosh.
In the silence that follows, I simply stand here.
Right in the middle of the room.
This is the first I’ve been completely alone since I got the call.
I drift to the bench where Corrine had just been sitting, my legs a little unsteady, and slowly sink onto it.
The door opens and there’s Emma. My throat tightens at the sight of her. I need her. I need her so much.
She slowly comes toward me and something in me starts to unravel.
She draws near and I reach for her waist, pull her to me, press my cheek to her stomach, and hold on.
Her arms wrap around my shoulders and head and I just squeeze and squeeze her. The whole world is rocking and bucking, threatening to turn everything upside down again.
This entire evening, all I could think about was, ‘What will this do to Whitney? What will this do to Lizzy?’
But not until this moment have I allowed myself to ask, ‘What will this do to me?’
“I can’t lose him. I can’t do this again.”
