“Some dumb kid ran a red light. His monster truck smashed into the cab.”
“Drew?”
Brandon’s face tightened. “He’s alive.”
Maggie’s breath caught. “But…?”
“He’s still in surgery.” Her brother inhaled deeply. “He took the brunt of the impact. Emergency responders spent an hour cutting him out of the wreck.” Brandon reached out and grabbed Maggie’s hand. His warm hands seemed to burn against her cold fingers. “Hey, hey, you stay with me, all right? Breathe. You looked like you were about to pass out.”
“I…I want to see him.”
“You’re only badly bruised, according to the doctors, but you’ve been in a major accident, and you’re still going to hurt like hell. I don’t think the doctors will let you out of bed for at least another twenty-four hours. Besides, Drew’s in surgery. No one can see him.”
“Is he going to make it?”
Brandon was briefly silent. “We hope so.”
Maggie exhaled, her breath shuddering. She forced her mind away from Drew. If she lingered on him, she would not be able to think, let alone talk. “Did anyone else get hurt? The cab driver?”
“Shaken, but managed to walk away from the accident.”
“And the boy in the truck?”
“I don’t know, but if he survived, I’m going to sue his ass.”
“I want to see Drew as soon as he’s out of surgery. You have to find out how he’s doing.”
Brandon studied her. “Okay, I’ll do that,” he said. “You just rest. You’re not going to help him by worrying.”
Maggie pressed her face against the pillow as Brandon walked out of the room. Tears leaked from her eyes to dampen the sheets. Her thoughts whirled until, exhausted, she finally fell asleep.
~*~
The doctors did not permit her out of bed until noon the following day. When they did, Brandon escorted her down to Drew’s hospital room. Greg, Drew’s younger brother, was in the room and stood when she entered. “Maggie, are you all right?” He took both her hands in his. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
She looked past his shoulder. “Drew. How is he?”
Greg and Brandon exchanged glances. Greg spoke, “The doctors managed to save his legs, but they can’t really tell how badly hurt he is until he regains consciousness.”
“He hasn’t yet?” Maggie sucked in a shuddering breath.
Surrounded by quietly humming machines, Drew looked like he was merely asleep. The cuts on his torso and upper arms had been bandaged, but the worst damage—the crushing impact to his back and legs—was hidden beneath the sheets.
“No, he hasn’t waken. The doctors think it may be a while before he does.” Greg grimaced. “It’s déjà vu…living the nightmare all over again.”
“You mean ten years ago? In Drew’s accident?”
“Yeah, it’s the same thing.” Greg dragged his hand through his hair. “You. Drew.”
“Me?”
Brandon shot Greg a warning glance.
Greg caught himself. “Nothing. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No.” Maggie shrugged off Brandon’s restraining hand. “You were saying…I had something to do with Drew’s first accident? But I wasn’t even there.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Brandon said.
“Yes, we do,” Maggie said. “Tell me what happened ten years ago.”
Greg glanced at Brandon and then said, “What do you remember from the night of Drew’s accident?”
“It was almost Christmas. He was back for vacation.”
“Right, but you…what did you do that night?”
“I was at a party. But Drew wasn’t there.”
“Actually.” Greg inhaled deeply. “He was. You called me, drunk, and asked for a pickup. But I was asleep, and it was Drew who answered the phone.”
“He…” Maggie grew cold.
Greg nodded. “He picked you up from the party.”
“But I don’t remember seeing him.”
“You were piss-drunk.” Greg sighed. “You would have gone home with anyone who pointed you in the right direction and kept you from falling face-first onto the ground. Drew said he went into the frat house, found you almost passed out on the couch, and carried you back to the car. He took you home that night.”
Maggie did not want to hear the rest of story, but she had to. “And then…?”
“On his way home, a drunk driver—from the same damn party—plowed into his car. Sent it into a tree. And you know what happened after that.”
Drew had gotten into that accident because of her? “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Greg glanced at Brandon, who took over the painful revelation of facts. “We decided not to.”
“What?” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Drew hurt his knee. He lost his football career because of me, and you decided not to tell me?”
Brandon held his hands up. “Drew made that call.”
Her jaw dropped. “He what?”
“When Drew woke up and realized you didn’t have any memory of what actually happened that night, he told us not to tell you. He insisted it wasn’t your fault—which, of course, it wasn’t—and he didn’t want you to be burdened by guilt.”
“He did that?” Maggie asked, her voice quiet.
Greg nodded. “I think he was already in love with you then. It was not something he could confess to, though, seeing how you and I were dating at that time.”
“Oh, God.” She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. “I wrecked his life…”
“Come on, Maggie,” Brandon said. “That’s exactly why he didn’t want you to know. Guilt’s just such a nasty thing to have to live with. He didn’t want it tainting the relationship he wanted with you.”
“But I was responsible!”
“If you’re going to blame yourself for his accident, you might as well take credit for his recovery too,” Greg said firmly. “After the hospital discharged him, Drew became depressed. The doctors told him the damage to his knee was permanent.” Greg shook his head at the memory. “When Drew realized his football career was over, he talked less, ate less; he didn’t want to see anyone. He couldn’t work up the energy to get out of bed, let alone go to physical therapy. Then one day, you showed up with CDs, videos, and a pile of books, marched into his room, and closed the door. That day, after you left, Drew called me in and asked for the physical therapist’s phone number. No matter how bad each day got after that, he never complained. He just focused on seeing you again.” Greg tipped Maggie’s chin up and looked her in the eyes. “You got my brother through the single worst event of his entire life. He owes you. I owe you.”
“And no one holds you responsible for what happened to Drew, least of all Drew,” Brandon added.
“But this time—”
“It’s not your fault,” Brandon said.
“He came to the photo op because of me…because I walked out on him and let him think I was leaving for Milan. Oh, God. Don’t you see?” Maggie dug her fingers into her scalp. If only the physical pain were sharper, it might have distracted her from the stabbing ache in her chest. “It’s just like ten years ago. He came to take me home from the party. I wake up from the accident, practically unhurt, and he’s the one lying there in bed, hurt, unconscious—” She doubled over in the chair. Sobs tore her apart.
Brandon cursed. “I’ll take you back to your room, Maggie.”
“No, I’m not going!” She raised her tear-streaked face to him. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”
A knock sounded on the door. A nurse cleared her throat. “Anyone of you a family member of Drew Jackson?”
“I’m his brother,” Greg said.
The nurse held out a clear plastic bag and an official-looking form. “These things were in his pockets. Can you please sign for them here?”
Greg scribbled his signature on the piece of paper as Maggie and Brandon stared wordlessly at the distinctive light blue box
mixed in with Drew’s wallet, keys, and smartphone. Greg dipped into the plastic bag and pulled out the box. He flipped it open and stared at its contents. A bittersweet smile spread across his face. “I’m guessing he got this for you.” He turned the box toward Maggie.
A diamond engagement ring glittered in a pale blue velvet pad.
“Oh…” Her lips parted.
Greg placed the box in her trembling hands.
Brandon and Greg communicated through wordless glances. Greg went to the door. “I’ll ask if the nurses can bring in another bed, or at least a more comfortable chair.”
Brandon sighed. “Maggie—”
She stared at the ring. Drew had loved her. He had wanted to marry her. “I wish you’d told me.”
“Drew would never have told you.”
Chapter 15
The steady hum of the machines buried the quiet sounds of Drew’s breaths. Maggie looked up from her computer tablet to stare at his chest. She needed to know he was still breathing. On the wall across from her, the hands of the clock moved through time.
Hours passed, but Drew did not wake.
Hours passed, and Maggie did not leave. Greg, Brandon, and Drew’s parents looked in on her frequently. The nurses brought trays of food to her. Day became night, and the bustle of the hospital subsided. It was nearly midnight when Maggie glanced at the knock on the door. “Felicity?”
Felicity Rivers, Drew’s former girlfriend, stood by the door and glanced at the bed, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. “How…how is he?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Maggie said. She uncurled from her seat on the corner of the couch and pushed to her feet. “Do you want to come in?”
Felicity took a few steps into the room and stopped several feet away from Drew’s bed, as if she were afraid to go any closer. “The doctor said he might not be able to walk again. Is it true?”
Maggie’s heart clenched, and she struggled to keep her tone even. “We don’t know yet. How did you find out about the accident?”
Felicity twisted her fingers into the strap of her handbag. “I…” She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily. The words rushed out of her. “My brother, Darrell, was driving the truck.”
Maggie’s breath whooshed out of her. “Your brother?”
“I’m so sorry.” Felicity’s eyes filled with tears again. “I…I don’t know what else to say. I’m just…so sorry.”
“Is your brother all right?”
Felicity swallowed hard. “He’s…he’s dead.” Her voice broke.
Oh, God. Maggie threw her arms around Felicity. The other woman wept against her shoulder. “He was coming back from a party,” Felicity said between heaving sobs. “He was drunk. I don’t know what happened. He never drinks. It’s just not like him.”
Maggie stroked Felicity’s back as her thoughts churned with turmoil. Felicity’s brother had crippled Drew, but at that moment, it was impossible to feel anything except sympathy for his devastated sister. They were all victims of life’s cruel hand.
“Do you have someone to go home to?” Maggie asked after Felicity’s sobs stilled into periodic hiccups.
Felicity shook her head. “Our parents died five years ago. Thank God,” she said, her tone filled with irony. “Or this would have broken their hearts.” She sniffled. “It was just the two of us. Not anymore.”
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Maggie said. At that moment, she was painfully aware that Felicity would not have been alone if she had not taken Drew away from Felicity. In fact, if she had not staked her claim on Drew, he would never have been in that cab with her. He would never have been in the accident. Perhaps Felicity’s drunk brother might have made it past that intersection safely. Perhaps he might even have made it home safely. Perhaps no one would have gotten hurt…crippled…killed.
How much of it was her fault?
“I’ll be fine,” Felicity said, though her voice lacked conviction. “You’ll let me know, won’t you, how Drew is doing?”
Maggie nodded.
“Please tell him I’m sorry.” Felicity asked.
“He’ll want to see you when he wakes.”
“Maybe.” Felicity pressed her lips together and looked away. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you, even if he…”
“Yes, of course, for as long as he’ll let me.”
Felicity shook her head. “He won’t let you, not if he’s too badly hurt. You know that.”
Maggie did know that, and she had no idea how to work around Drew’s damnable compulsion to protect her, especially from himself.
~*~
Drew awoke into a world of dampened sensation. Colors blurred into shades of gray. Sounds echoed quietly as if from far away. His surroundings stank of mass-produced disinfectant.
From his waist down, he was a mass of pain.
Pain was good, he reminded himself. Sometimes, just feeling something, anything, was a win.
A familiar fragrance wafted toward him. It blasted alertness through him. Beautiful. Maggie…
He tried to raise himself up on his elbows, but shards of pain shot up his spine and tore a gasp from his lips.
“Drew.” Maggie shifted into the frame of his vision. She blinked repeatedly, as if she had just woken up. Tendrils of blond hair had come loose from her ponytail to frame her face. “Don’t move. I’ll call the doctor.” She pressed a call button on the side of the bed. Her blue eyes roved over his face, as if trying to memorize his features. Her slow smile widened. “You woke up, thank God.”
“You weren’t sure I would?” his voice rasped as she placed his glasses on his face. The world leaped back into focus. How long had he been out? “What happened?”
“A drunk driver in a truck hit our cab.”
“You okay?”
She nodded. “The cab driver too. You got the worst of it.” Maggie’s gaze flicked away briefly.
She was lying, but he did not have to energy to ferret out the lie. “How bad?”
“You were in surgery for a while. How do your legs feel?”
“Hurts like hell.”
“But you can feel them.”
A chill passed through him. Had she been worried that he would not be able to feel his legs? “Maggie—”
A middle-aged doctor walked into the room. “I’m Dr. Hendricks, the orthopedic surgeon who handled your surgery. I also have the medical records related to your prior accident. I’d like to examine you.”
Drew nodded.
Maggie scooted to the head of the bed and slipped her hand into Drew’s as the doctor turned back the sheets. The poking and prodding started out gentle, but escalated quickly. By the time the doctor was done, Drew was pale and sweating. His fingers dug into the sheets, his knuckles white.
The doctor tugged the sheets back over Drew’s legs and stepped back from the bed. “Your lumbosacral injury is classified as a B on the ASIA—American Spiral Injury Association—Impairment Scale. What it means is that you have sensory, but not motor function below the waist. Not what you wanted to hear, I know, but the good news is that B-category injuries frequently improve with significant physical therapy, and possibly additional surgery.”
“So, he’ll have a full recovery?” Maggie asked.
“Can’t promise that,” Dr. Hendricks said. “Spinal injuries are especially tough, and he’s got a preexisting knee injury to work through. Best I can promise you is that if he goes to PT and sticks with it, he’ll see some improvement.”
“When do I start?” Drew asked.
“Probably within a month, once the inflammation subsides.” Dr. Hendricks hesitated. “I’d caution you not to push too hard too fast. I know your type. You think you’re invulnerable—”
“I stopped thinking I was invulnerable ten years ago.” Drew’s chuckle was ironic.
“The key to long-term improvement is steady progress. If you try to do too much too early, you may only injure yourself and set back your recovery.”
Drew nodded. Focus. He had to focus on
the present. His past was too despairing, and his future too bleak to give him anything to go on. Just get better.
“I’ll send the nurses in to remove the IVs. I’m sure you’ll want something real to eat,” the doctor said. “Visitors are fine. Just take care not to get overtired.”
“When can I be discharged?”
“Probably within the week. I suggest you practice with the wheelchair as much as you can. We’ve got patient care assistants who can help.”
Wheelchair.
Drew squeezed his eyes shut.
Ten years ago, he had left the hospital on crutches. He would not even be as lucky this time.
~*~
Drew said little to Maggie. It was easier to let her believe he was tired, which was the truth. She had wanted to stay with him, but he sent her away. Shadows bruised her eyes, and caffeine was probably the only thing propping her eyelids open. Brandon, fortunately, had taken his side and dragged Maggie away after swearing to bring her back once she had eight hours of sleep.
When Maggie left, she took all the light with her. Darkness swarmed into the room. Drew was certain the suddenly dismal physical environment reflected his mood, but logic provided little comfort.
A knock sounded on the door. “Hey.”
Drew glanced up. His brother, Greg, wore a hesitant smile. “Brandon called and said you’d woken up. Mom and Dad wanted to come too, but I persuaded them to hold off for an hour or so. I figured we’d give you a chance to process visitors one at a time.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Maggie?”
“I sent her home with Brandon.”
“Oh. Your stuff is in the drawer.”
Drew glanced at the side table. It was too far to reach for someone who could not even turn onto his side without getting tangled in IV tubes and sending screaming pain shooting down his spine.
Greg moved to the side table and slid the drawer out. A light blue box, sealed with a white ribbon, lay next to Drew’s wallet, keys, and smartphone.
Maggie’s engagement ring.
Drew sucked in his breath. His head felt swollen, as if stuffed with too many thoughts he had begun but left unfinished. He couldn’t think. If he tried, the ache in his chest intensified until he thought it would burst.
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