When we landed and got in the waiting town car, my mind was numb. And when the car pulled up in front of the hospital, after a series of ID checks and verifications, I was the first one out of it. I offered Larry my hand. He took it as he came out, holding on to it for support as we made our way in through the revolving glass doors.
Dad walked beside us, his tie loose, and his security behind us. I glowered at him. “You brought them here?”
“Yes, Carrie, I brought them here,” he said, his voice tired. “They go where I go. And, as you obviously know, where you go, too.”
I turned my head, not wanting to do this right now. Not able to do it. “Do we know where to go, Larry?”
“They said the third floor.” He pointed at the elevator. “So I’m guessing we start there.”
We walked to it in silence, holding hands still. By the time the elevator arrived, and we rode it to the third floor, I wasn’t sure my legs would work anymore. But somehow, when the doors opened, I walked out. And then I took the steps that led us to the receptionist, who wore a scrub top with cartoon turkeys on it.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.
Larry stepped forward and rested his hand on the desk. It looked casual enough, but I knew he rested on it for support. “Y-Yes, we’re here for Sergeant Griffin Coram. We don’t know if he’s…”
When he didn’t finish, instead covering his mouth and closing his eyes, I stepped forward and I squeezed his hand tighter. “If he’s still alive, he means.”
God, even saying that hurt.
The nurse’s brown eyes flashed with pity, and she looked at her computer. “Go have a seat, and someone will be with you.”
“Can you tell us anything?” Larry asked, his face pale. “Anything at all?”
She hesitated. “It’s not my place to do so, sir. There’s protocol and rules…”
“P-Please?” I added, catching her gaze. “Even something tiny.”
She sighed. “He’s here. That’s really all I know. I don’t know where or how he’s doing. I don’t even know if he’s…living. I just see his name in the system—and that’s all I can tell you.”
Tears fell down my cheeks and I nodded, biting down on my lower lip. “Th-Thank you,” I managed to say before I led Larry to his seat.
Dad followed, his fists tight at his sides. “That’s bull. They can’t tell you anything?”
“It’s the way the military works,” Larry said, collapsing in the plastic chair. “It’s always been this way.”
“Someone ought to fix that,” Dad grumbled.
Larry and I both gave Dad a pointed stare, and then we all fell silent again. We sat there for what had to have been two hours before we saw anyone. A nurse in pink scrubs came up to us—her eyes empty and her face carefully neutral. “Sir? I can take you to your son now. The rest of your party will have to wait out here.”
I stood up, almost falling over in my haste. “Can’t I come, too?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Please?”
“Family only, ma’am,” the nurse said, her eyes showing me she didn’t want to refuse me. “I’m sorry.”
I bit back a sob and covered my mouth. I didn’t want to stay out here. I wanted to be with him. With Finn. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”
“You’ll let her go back,” Dad said, his voice clear and strong. “I’m Senator Wallington from the United States Senate, and that boy back there is one of mine. I’ll gladly follow your rules and wait, but you’ll let her go back.”
I looked at him in surprise, tears still blinding my vision. “D-Dad?”
“Sir…I can’t.”
Larry rested a hand on her arm. “He’d want her back there. Whether he’s alive or not…he’d want her there.” He paused. “Please.”
She hesitated, still gazing at my father, who stared her down until she finally nodded. “All right. She can come, but not for too long.”
Not for too long? Did that mean he was alive? I was trying to dissect everything she said and it was driving me insane. When would they tell us something?
I looked at Dad, but he didn’t look at me. Instead, he headed for the elevator without a word. Larry tugged me into the back room, and then we were entering a room with beeping noises and a lot of bright lights and…oh my God.
He was there. Finn was there, but he didn’t look like Finn at all.
His head had white gauze wrapped all around it, and he had scratches all over his face, a black eye, and a bloody lip. It looked as if they’d shaved all his hair off, too. All I saw was skin, scars and stitches. There were stitches over his forehead that ran long and deep, extending underneath the bandage around his head. And he looked so pale. Almost as if…
As if he wasn’t alive.
But the machine was beeping steadily. He had a heartbeat. He was alive.
I kept echoing that in my head.
I took a step closer, my own heart squeezing so tight that it hurt to move, let alone breathe. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved restlessly, as if he was having a bad dream or talking in his sleep. They were all scabbed up and dried out, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a drink in days. His left arm was in a cast from the elbow down, and then a sling, too, as if it needed all the support it could get. His legs were covered with a blanket, but I didn’t think he had any casts on underneath.
“Oh my God,” I said, taking another step closer. “Finn.”
Larry cried out and rushed to Finn’s side, and I watched as if I was out of my body. Unable to move or talk or do anything besides stare. I wanted to feel relieved that he was alive, but how could I feel anything resembling relief when he was in a bed—bloody and bruised and hurt?
The arm that wasn’t in a sling rested at his side, but he had his hand fisted tight. As I watched, he loosened the fist, then tightened it again. He was holding something. I leaned closer, squinting. It took me maybe three seconds to recognize it. It was tattered, but I’d know it anywhere. It was the picture he’d taken of me outside his apartment. I hadn’t even known he printed it out.
My gaze flew to his face, but his eyes were still closed. “I’m here, love,” I whispered, even though he probably couldn’t hear me. I stood there, not sure where to touch him…if at all. It didn’t look safe to touch him anywhere. “I’m with you.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Larry asked, his eyes on Finn. “Will he recover?”
“He’s been confused and in pain,” the doctor said. He walked to Finn’s side and checked his vitals. “We’ve been keeping him dosed with morphine, and he’s been pretty out of it because of that, so it’s hard to tell what kind of effects the explosion might have had on his brain. We did an MRI, but we’re still waiting on the results from that. With crude IEDs, you never know.”
Larry covered his mouth. “What got broken?”
“He was lucky,” the doctor said. “It was just his arm. Lots of bruises and stitches all over his body. There will be scarring on his face and his arm. And he got a concussion, as I said. We won’t know the long-term effects until he wakes up. When his arm broke, the fibula came through the skin, so it was touch and go for a while. He lost too much blood before they could get him here, so he’s weak. But he really lucked out.”
I walked toward Finn slowly, my eyes on his cast. That was lucky? How could that be considered lucky?
“The rest of his unit died,” the doctor said, watching me closely. “That’s how he’s lucky.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d said that out loud. I reached Finn’s side, the one without the broken arm, and I slowly closed my fingers over his hand. I made sure not to crumble the picture, even if it was almost unrecognizable already. Even though he didn’t so much as blink or wiggle his fingers, I swear…