I thought I’d lost you too.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Devora. This is normal. I’m going to go let Dr. Cantrell know that she’s starting to wake up.”
What does that mean? Who else did she lose?
“Thank you—” Everything around me cuts to black, and my body goes limp as the dark hole sucks me in again.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Warm lips touch the side of my head. I have no sense of time, but I hope I wasn’t out too long. “I go home for thirty minutes to take a shower and change clothes, and you wake up. What’s that all about, huh?” My eyes flutter open and I catch a glimpse of Wyatt’s handsome face before they drift shut again.
“She’s stubborn as hell.” Bailey! Wyatt laughs at my sister’s accurate description, and the bed dips low next to my hip. “Always stubborn. Even when you’re unconscious.” Bailey’s breath fans the side of my face before she kisses me on the cheek. She whispers I love you, kisses me once more and pulls away.
Every muscle in my body screams when I try to shift in bed. My body feels bruised and battered, and I’m stiff as hell.
“Katie?” I peel my eyes open, and this time two faces are peering down at me. “Don’t move, sweetheart.” Wyatt is watching me with open adoration. That look, combined with the unshed tears glistening in my sister’s eyes, causes my chest to constrict. My gaze bounces around the room, and alarm bells begin ringing in my head when I notice the IV pole sitting off to the side. My eyes follow the tubing, which is attached to an IV in my arm, and a pulse oximeter is wrapped firmly around my middle finger.
Everything floating around in my head is still a jumbled mess, and I start to panic because, for the life me, I can’t figure out why I’m here.
“Wyatt?” My voice is hoarse and raw, and I desperately need something to drink.
Beautiful blue orbs are watching me, filling with tears, and I feel a few of my own slip down the side of my face. Wyatt reaches out and brushes them off my cheek. “I’ve missed you so much, Katie.”
“What happened? Why am I here?” I ask, trying to make sense of what’s going on. Why did he miss me? How long have I been here?
Bailey slides Wyatt a sidelong glance that he quickly returns, and it’s almost as though they’re having some sort of silent conversation. My eyes bounce anxiously between the two as I wait for someone to answer me. Obviously something bad happened or I wouldn’t be laid up in a hospital bed feeling like I got hit by a train.
I watch as my sister’s head lowers. She swipes a hand across her face and I can see, despite her attempt to hide it, that her chin is trembling. “I ca—” Her voice breaks and she shakes her head. “I can’t.” Lifting my hand, I reach for Bailey, but she spins away from me and runs out of the room.
Shifting in bed, I make a move to go after her and my entire body screams in protest. Sucking in a sharp breath, my gaze snaps to Wyatt and he runs a shaky hand down the front of his face. “What—” I shake my head, panic and fear settling thick in my bones. “What the hell is going on?”
“Katie—” Wyatt sighs and looks away. His jaw ticks several times, and when his eyes find mine again, they’re full of grief. “I think we need to wait for your mom to come back.”
My stomach churns as my mind races to try and make sense of what’s going on. I come up with absolutely nothing—and that frustrates me even more. “No, Wyatt.” With my eyes locked on his face, I reach for his hand. He wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes them lightly. “Tell me,” I beg.
But even as I say the words, snippets of memories and broken conversations flash through my mind.
My mom crying.
I’ve already lost so much.
I can’t lose her too.
I thought I’d lost you too.
“Damn it, Wyatt,” I growl. His eyes search mine, and I can tell that he’s trying to decide what to do. “Please. Please tell me.” Frustrated, I lift my free hand to my head and wince when something pricks my finger. What the hell?
Gently, I run my hand further into my hair and follow what I presume to be stitches, finding that they stop just above my ear. Rubbing my thumb over the pads of my fingers, I hold my hand in front of my face, inspecting it closely. My hand shakes when I see the blood smudged on the tips of my fingers.
Blood on my head.
Sore, stiff body.
What the hell happened to me?
“You had to get fifteen stitches to close the gash above your temple,” Wyatt states softly. The distinct sound of tires squealing ricochets through my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut as memories start flooding in. “It took them forever to get it to stop bleeding.” I hear what he’s saying, but the flashbacks are pouring in too fast for me to stop and ask questions.
Headlights flashing. Honking … swerving.
“You also have twelve stitches to a laceration on your left arm.”
Metal crunches, glass shatters, tires squeal.
My heart races inside my chest and I grip the fabric of my gown, trying desperately to anchor myself to something.
“Three fractured ribs…”
My body flies forward, then it’s yanked back again before being tossed violently from side to side.
I wince, clutching my head. Too much … this is all too much. My breaths are becoming more and more shallow as anxiety trickles through my veins.
“And you have a bruised left hip.”
Moaning … gurgling … my head lolls to the side and I crack my eyes open.
My eyes drift shut. The memory of the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.
Blood. Lots and lots of blood.
My eyes snap open and I search the room. Someone is missing. Where is Dad? Oh God. No. No, no, no. Please, no.
My mom comes barreling into the room at the same time realization hits me.
“Da-ad!” I scream. Mom comes to an abrupt halt at the end of my bed and her hand flies to her face, covering her mouth. She blinks once and tears start rolling down her face.
“Katie …”
I hear Wyatt say my name, but everything seems to be happening in slow-motion and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from my mom, who’s watching me with a look of fear mixed with pain. She takes a hesitant step forward, as if I’m a wild animal and she’s trying to decide the best way to approach me. My eyes follow every move she makes, and when she sits next to me on the bed, opposite from Wyatt, she drops her hand from her face so she can brush her fingers along my cheek. Her beautiful eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and the dark circles around them tell me just how much pain she is in. I swallow hard when her bottom lip trembles because I know—I can feel it in the pit of my soul—that whatever she’s about to tell me is going to rip my life to shreds.
“Katie,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.
“Dad. Where’s Dad?”
“Daddy—” Her voice cracks, and once again she plasters a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. A tight band constricts around my heart. Lifting my hand, I rub absently at the ache in my chest.
“Shhh … it’s okay.” Bailey’s soothing voice catches me off-guard.
“Bailey?” I ask frantically, needing to see my sister. She walks to my bed and drapes her arm around mom’s shoulder. Tears are dripping down her flushed face and she looks at me for a brief moment, her lips pinched together, before she gives a slight shake of her head.
That one movement is monumental and packs a mean punch of silent words that slam straight into my gut. And that’s all it takes to confirm my worst nightmare—the one thing I was most fearful of.