Trust the Push

by Kaylee Ryan

  “You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks.

  “Yeah, just need to get past it.” With a wave, I lead Camber back to the hauler. I can’t watch him. By the way I’m feeling, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to watch him again. I guess it’s a good thing this is just a fling.

  Only three laps in of twenty-five and I feel cagey. Like something isn’t right. I can’t pinpoint what it is. The car is driving great, all the gauges are showing good, but something feels… off. Lap after lap passes by. I’m leading the race, and that’s good, that’s what I want, but I can’t seem to shake this feeling. It must be Bree and everything I’ve left unsaid. As soon as I win this race, I’m telling her. What if there is another accident, and I don’t get the chance? I grip the wheel tighter. That’s not something I need to be thinking about right now, but damn, the thought guts me. No more waiting. I have to tell her.

  When I take the checkered flag as the winner I don’t celebrate; instead, I make my way to victory row, where I know she’ll be. Instead of taking my time climbing out of my car, I rush to pull off my helmet and Kevin is there to greet me.

  “Hell yeah!” he cheers, pulling me into a hug and smacking me on the back. Rick, Jacob, and Dad follow suit, then there’s Mom.

  “You did good.” She grins up at me before giving me a hug.

  Looking over her shoulder, I try to see Bree, but it’s just Ash. She steps forward. ‘Good race, Checkmate.” She smiles.

  “Thanks.” I drop my arm that is around Mom’s shoulders and pull Ash into a quick hug, my eyes searching for Aubree. “Where’s Aubree?” I ask them.

  “Oh, she wasn’t feeling well, so she and Camber went back to the hauler. I think it was too hard for her to watch you, you know after last weekend,” Mom says.

  I try not to let the disappointment wash over me. I want her here, with me. This is a big moment—another win for me and my team—and I want to share it with her. It just doesn’t feel the same without her here. The win doesn’t seem to have the same luster as it used to. Not without Aubree. If I didn’t already know, I would for sure in this moment. I love her. I can’t wait to finish this dog and pony show, the interviews, the pictures, all of it so I can go to her.

  “Checkmate, congrats on another win. You’ve had a great season thus far. What do you think your chances are at winning your third championship in a row?”

  Is this guy serious? I’m antsy as hell. I need to go to her. I feel… off somehow. I need to wrap my arms around her and tell her. “I have a good team,” I say, shaking out of my thoughts. “They work hard, alongside myself and my sponsors. We’re having a good year and looking forward to what’s to come.” I can tell by the expression on his face that’s not the answer he was looking for. This interviewer likes to stir shit up. That’s not happening, not with me. He goes on to talk about the race, and how the car performed. By the time I finish my sponsor spiel, I’m over it. Hell, I was over it before it started. As soon as he walks away, Jacob hops in the car and takes it back to the hauler, the rest of us walk along behind him. Fellow drivers, those who aren’t jealous, call out congratulations, and I’m stopped by a few fans for autographs. That’s all fine, but I really have somewhere to be.

  As we grow closer to the hauler, I can hear the faint sound of barking. I’m not the only one to bring my dog to the track, but with each step we take, the barking is louder and my anxiety peaks.

  Something’s wrong.

  I take off in a run to the hauler and throw open the door. “Bree!” I call out, racing to the bedroom to look for her. The bed is empty, the bunks are empty, she’s not here. Still the barking.

  “Blaine!” I hear Kevin scream my name.

  Rushing back outside, I walk toward the barking, and as soon as I turn the corner, that’s when I see her. Aubree is lying on the ground, between the hauler and the trailer. Jumping over the hitch, I drop to my knees.

  “Don’t,” Mom warns. I didn’t even realize she was there. I feel her place her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t move her. We called the ambulance. We don’t want to injure her. We don’t know what happened,” she says through choked tears.

  Lying down on the ground, I brush her beautiful red hair out of her yes. “Bree, baby, open your eyes for me. Come on, beautiful, let me see them,” I say, my lips next to her ear. Nothing happens. No reply, not even a flinch or a flutter of her eyes. “Baby, please,” I beg her. Reaching out, I lace her fingers with mine, careful not to jostle her arm. “Bree, it’s me, open your eyes, baby.” Still nothing. I feel hands on my shoulders trying to pull me away from her, but I’m not budging. “No!” I shout. “Bree, please,” I plead with her, having no idea if she can hear me.

  “Sir,” a deep voice says from behind me. “You have to move so we can take care of her.”

  “Come on, son.” Dad pulls on my arm to get me to move out of the way.

  I don’t stand; instead, I move over a few feet, where I’m not crouching on my knees, her head in front of me. I watch them as they check her vitals. “Bree.” My voice cracks with emotion I don’t bother to hide. Not for her. Never again. “Please, God,” I pray. “Please let her be okay.”

  I can hear the paramedics asking questions, but I can’t answer them. I can’t do anything but sit here and watch helplessly while I plead with God and anyone who’s willing to listen to not take her from me. Not Aubree. I just found her and she doesn’t even know that I love her.

  I scramble to my feet when they load her onto the stretcher. She’s lying there so lifeless. Reaching out, I take her hand again, holding it in mine. “Bree, please,” I beg. I just need her to open her eyes. To show me she’s going to be okay.

  “Sir, we need to go.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Are you family?” he asks.

  “Yes.” It’s not a lie. My heart belongs to her. That makes us more than family. That makes her my life.

  “You can ride with us, but you need to let us do our jobs,” he tells me.

  “Where are you taking her?” Dad asks.

  “General is the closest. The physicians there will assess and go from there.”

  “We’re right behind you, Blaine,” Dad assures me.

  I don’t acknowledge him, I can’t. I keep my eyes trained on her as I walk with the EMTs to the back of the ambulance with her hand in mine.

  “Sir, you have to let us load her,” one of them says.

  Reluctantly, I release her hand and allow them to load her in the back of the ambulance. As soon as they’re settled, they give me the okay to climb on board. I’m pushed onto a metal box near her head and told not to move.

  I don’t.

  I sit here, my eyes locked on her. In my mind, I’m begging her to come back to me. The trip is a blur, but when we stop moving and the back doors open, I know this could be it. She’s still unresponsive, but I have to have faith she can hear me. Bending next to her ear, I whisper, “I love you, Aubree. Please come back to me, baby.” The words are barely out of my mouth before they are lifting her out of the ambulance and rushing her through the emergency room doors.

  “Come on, son.” I hear my dad say.

  My feet move on their own accord as we enter through the automatic double doors. The smell of hospital hits me instantly. It’s unmistakably disinfectant that takes over your senses. It’s a smell that coincides with loss and pain. Neither of which are comforting. Dad tries to lead me to the waiting room, but I turn to the receptionist’s desk.

  “Aubree Chase,” I croak out her name. “Can I see her?”

  She types on her keyboard. “Are you family?”

  “Damnit!” I yell. “I have to go back there.” I start for the door, but I feel strong arms grab ahold of each of mine.

  “Calm down, man, you’re not doing her a bit of good if you get your ass thrown out of here,” Kevin says.

  “I have to see her,” I say with less fight but no less desperation.

  “Ma’am, we’re her family. Can you please l
et us know when we can see her?”

  We don’t stick around for her reply. Kevin guides me to a small corner of the waiting room where Mom, Ashley, Dad, and Jacob are waiting.

  “You good?” Rick asks before releasing my arm and taking a seat.

  “Sit down,” Kevin says sternly.

  “Fuck you,” I say with zero heat.

  “Blaine!” my mother scolds. I’m twenty-five years old and still getting scolded by my mother. Perfect.

  I take a seat on the edge of the chair and rest my elbows on my knees. “What happened? Why was she there?”

  “S-she said she wasn’t feeling well. She was sweating and blamed it on nerves. You two have been… quiet and I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She seemed okay, just a little uneasy when she left. She took Camber with her,” Mom explains.

  “Camber, where is she?” I ask as an afterthought.

  “She’s in the hauler. The door is locked and the air is running. She’ll be fine,” Jacob tells me.

  My mind races with what could have happened. There were no signs of injury. Did someone attack her? Was she really not feeling well or was it nerves? I can’t get the image of her lifeless body lying in the dirt out of my head. “She has to be okay,” I whisper, burying my face in my hands. That’s when I feel the wetness in my eyes and on my cheeks.

  I’m crying.

  I don’t remember the last time I shed a tear. Elementary school maybe when I fell off the monkey bars in first grade? I keep my face buried in my hands, not so much to hide my tears, but to give them the freedom to fall. Please, God, if you’re listening, let her be okay. Please bring her back to me. I send up a silent plea.

  “I love her,” I say to whoever wants to listen. My voice is thick and grainy filled with emotion. “I love her and I’ve never told her, not until tonight. Right before they wheeled her in here, I told her, but who knows if she heard me. Fuck!” I scream. Lifting my head, I see my closest family and friends staring at me with sorrow in their eyes. Mom and Ash are wiping their tears, while the guys look on the brink of shedding their own. I don’t bother to wipe mine away. “I’m an idiot,” I add.

  “Blaine,” Ashley whispers. “She loves you too. She might not have told you, but we all see it.”

  I nod. I’m pretty sure I’ve known that for a while and just refused to see it. Refused to accept it and trust it. Trust in her. “Yeah,” I agree. “Doesn’t make it any easier though, you know? I’ve had all this time with her and never told her. Hell, on the track tonight, I had finally decided I was going to. I was going to tell her how I feel and that I want her. Forever.”

  “Son.” Dad’s voice is strained.

  “I didn’t do it, Dad. You told me to trust the push, to let her break down my walls and trust in that, in her, and I didn’t do it. I fought it, told myself it was just for the season.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “She deserves better.”

  “Oh, Blaine, don’t you see?” Mom asks.

  “You did trust it, trust her,” Dad clarifies.

  “Never seen you like you are when you’re with her,” Kevin adds.

  “She brought down your walls, one brick at a time. We all watched it crumble to the ground.” Ashley smiles. “You did the same for her.” She glances around the room. “I got to know her pretty well and she’s had a rough life. Never had much in the way of love and support, and she flourished with you. From the first day I met her until now, she’s more confident and she smiles all the time. You did that, Blaine. You make her happy.”

  “You all knew?” I ask them.

  “Yeah,” they all say at the same time, causing each of them to chuckle.

  “It’s hard to miss the sparks flying between the two of you.” Rick laughs.

  “I should have told her.”

  “You’ll get your chance. You just have to have faith.”

  “Aubree Chase, the family of Aubree Chase,” a nurse calls out.

  I jump to my feet, and in just a couple of long strides, I’m standing before her. “Can I see her?”

  “Not yet. Are you family?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “The doctor would like to speak with you.” She looks over my shoulder. “Who are all of these people?”

  “We’re her family.”

  “Well—” She pauses. “Come on back. I’ll put you in a conference room.” We follow her down the long, cold, sterile hallway. There don’t appear to be any patient rooms on this end of the building; trust me, I’ve looked at every door as we pass. “You can have a seat in here. I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready.”

  All seven of us pile into the tiny room and take a seat around the small conference table. No one says a word as we wait for the doctor. My hands are clasped tight together resting on the table and my leg is bouncing up and down.

  “All of you are family?” the doctor asks when he walks into the room.

  “Yes,” is a chorus from each of us around the table.

  “How is she?” I ask before he can say anything else.

  “I’m Dr. Connor, I’ve been working on Aubree since she was brought in. She’s stable,” he finally says.

  “Is she awake? Can I see her?” I ask in a rush.

  “She’s still unconscious. It appears as though her blood sugar dropped too low. Has she been taking her medication?”

  “What? Medication?” I look across to the table to Mom and Ashley, and they are wearing the same confused expression. “She’s not on any medication.”

  He nods. “Well then, it appears as though Aubree is a diabetic. Without her medical records, or her herself giving us her history, from what you’ve told me, I’m inclined to treat this as a new diagnosis.”

  “Diabetic?” I think back to the last couple of months and nothing stands out to me.

  “She’s a young healthy woman,” Mom chimes in. “How is this possible? Would we not have seen the signs?”

  “Not necessarily unless you know what you’re looking for. Has she been tired a lot, thirsty?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “She falls asleep easily claiming exhausting, and she’s always thirsty. Damn it, I should have questioned it.”

  “No, it’s possible that she’s had this for some time. It’s not something a non-medical professional would recognize unless maybe you are a diabetic yourself.”

  “So, when can I see her?”

  “As I said, she’s stable, but remains unconscious. There is a knot on her head, so I’m thinking maybe her sugar levels dropped and she fell to the ground, hitting her head. From the report I received from the paramedics that’s how you found her?”

  “Yeah, she was just… lying there,” I choke out the words.

  “We’re doing everything we can. We’re admitting her to ICU. Once she’s in a room, I’ll have a nurse come and inform you. Only two people are allowed in at a time, and visiting hours are eight in the morning until eight in the evening. You should go on home until then.” He stands to leave.

  “I’m not leaving her.”

  He looks over his shoulder at me and is quiet for more heartbeats than I can count. “Fair enough. You can stay. Cause any issues, and I’ll have you removed. The rest of you go on home and get some rest.” With that, he turns back around and exits the room.

  “Go on back. Check on Camber. I’ll call you if there are any updates,” I tell them.

  “We’re good for a while and so is Camber,” Dad speaks up. “Let’s get our girl in a room and settled and then we can decide where to go from there.”

  The room is quiet for a long time, nothing but the sound of the ticking clock and my heartbeat that I know they must be able to hear, fill the room. “Guys, I’m not leaving her. Not until she’s out of here. We might as well go ahead and get a plan together.” None of them say anything, so I forge ahead. “Get some rest and head on home. We can rent a car when she’s released.”

  “Nonsense,” Mom speaks up. “We’re only an hour from home. We’ll figure it all ou
t, right now, let’s just get her into a room and settled.”

  I don’t argue with her. I don’t have the energy. Besides, she’s right. There is time to figure it all out, and we are just a little over an hour from home. It’s not like we’re states away. That reminds me, I should call Maria, but I don’t have her number. My mind races and then it hits me. Jonah. Surely she listed someone, namely Maria, as her emergency contact at work. Pulling out my phone, I send him a text.

  Me: Hey, I need a favor. I need to get ahold of Maria. She’s Aubree’s friend.

  Can you check her file and get her number for me?

  Jonah: I can’t just give her number to you, Blaine. Work out your lover’s quarrel

  another way.

  Me: She’s in the hospital. Unconscious. I need that number.

  Jonah: What? Why in the hell didn’t you start with that, dick?

  Jonah: Give me five to log into the database.

  I stare at the screen waiting for his reply. Minutes pass by and I’m just about to text him again when the nurse knocks on the door. “We’ve got her in a room up in the fourth floor. Dr. Connor says that one of you is staying with her tonight.”

  “Me, and I’m not leaving until she does,” I say, stepping forward.

  “All right then, the rest of you,” she looks around the room, “will have to wait until morning. Visiting hours start at eight.” She reminds us. “You can follow me.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. I’m on her heels as we make our way up to the fourth floor. Our family and friends are right behind me. When we all pile onto the elevator, the nurse just shakes her head, a smile tilting her lips.

  “She’s a lucky girl to be so loved.”

  It’s an innocent statement, but I have to bite back another sob threatening to break free. She is lucky, but so are we. She would be even luckier if she knew how much I love her, how much we all do before this happened.

  The nurse stops outside of her room and pushes open the door. I follow in behind her. She steps back and lets me pass, and I stride straight to her side. “She looks like she’s sleeping,” I say aloud.