Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.5)(43)

“Yes, and I’m so sorry to have to be the one to call you. But are you able to go to the hospital, or have another family member meet them there?”

“Is he okay? He’s going to be okay right?” I don’t know how I’d ended up on the floor, but I couldn’t figure out how to get back up. I wasn’t seeing anything other than Parker.

The man was silent for a few seconds. “It was a pretty bad fall, Miss Hudson. You should probably get to the hospital. Maybe have someone drive you.”

Why wasn’t he telling me if Parker would be okay or not? Why was he talking like he wouldn’t be? Fat tears quickly fell down my cheeks, and my head jerked to the right when my boss touched my shoulder.

“I’m going,” I said into the phone before ending the call and letting my boss help me stand.

“What happened? I heard you—”

“P-parker was rushed—” I cut off on a sob, and pressed down onto Coen’s name on my phone. “I have to go.”

He just nodded and stepped back as I frantically searched for my purse.

I took off running down the hall and out of the building as Coen’s voice mail picked up. Ending the call only to call him again, I begged for him to answer.

Just before I ended the call again, he answered. “Hey, Ray, I’m in the middle of a shoot.” He must have heard my sobs because he quickly asked, “Babe, what’s wrong?” Panic filled his tone.

“Parker’s school called! They said—they said he fell off something on the playground and was unconscious.” Another sob burst from my chest as I cranked the engine on my car and pulled out of the parking spot. “He was taken to the hospital by ambulance, he still wasn’t waking up by the time they left. He said it was bad, Coen, he couldn’t even tell me he was going to be okay!”

Coen’s ragged breaths filled the phone. “What? No . . . no.”

I choked on my tears, and the sound must have finally broken through Coen’s denial.

“Oh my God. I’m on my way.”

“Coen, tell me he’s going to be okay,” I pleaded.

“He’s going to be fine, Reagan. He’s going to be fine. Babe, you shouldn’t be driving. Pull over, let me pick you up.”

“No!” I yelled. “I can’t sit here and do nothing, I need to get to him. I have to go!”

“Damn it!” he gritted, but I knew by his tone that he’d acknowledged I wouldn’t be waiting for him. “Reagan Hudson, listen to me. Keep yourself safe. I’m on my way and I’ll meet you there.”

I nodded and whispered some sort of good-bye before ending the call and calling my mom. The entire time I prayed Parker would be okay.

Coen—October 27, 2010

I PARKED IN the first spot I found, and didn’t even bother to check if it was a handicap space or not. I didn’t f*cking care. They could tow my car if they wanted. I’d already run out on a client after barely telling him why I was leaving, and gone over double the speed limit the entire way . . . a goddamn handicap space wasn’t going to stop me from getting in that hospital.

Running into the ER, I looked around the waiting room and rushed to the window when I didn’t see Reagan or anyone from her family. “Parker Hudson.”

The lady looked at me like I’d just ruined her day before sighing. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Parker Hudson, he was brought in here by ambulance not long ago. Where is he?” Adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I was five seconds from breaking through the locked doors and finding him myself. I didn’t know if Reagan had made it here okay, I didn’t know if Parker was awake yet . . . I was flipping the f*ck out.

Recognition hit her eyes. “His mother just came through here. You can wait out here for now, it’s only family allowed back there.”

I slammed my hand on the counter. “And he’s my son, where the f*ck is he?!”

The security guard I’d passed when I entered the ER walked up behind me. “Sir, I suggest you calm down.”

Looking over my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes at him until he took a step back before looking back at the woman behind the window. “Lady, do not keep me from them right now,” I said darkly. “Not after the phone call I just received. They need me, and I need to be back there. Now tell me. Where. Is. He.”

She forcefully swallowed and straightened. “Room thirteen.”

Pushing away from the counter, I walked quickly over to the doors and waited until I heard the beep before pulling them open and jogging through the crowded halls. Turning a corner, I saw a flag over a door with the number thirteen on it, and quickened my steps. Stepping in, I came to a stop when I saw Reagan talking with a doctor, and just past them was Parker, hooked up to too many machines.

I’d seen some of the worst things anyone could witness in this world—and, granted, I couldn’t sleep from it—but seeing Parker lying in that bed was enough to make my knees go weak and all the air leave my lungs.

A short cry burst past Reagan’s lips, and she launched herself into my arms.

“I’m here, baby,” I managed to choke out as I pressed my lips to her head. “I’m here.” Looking up at the doctor, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It didn’t matter how much it killed me to see Reagan break down, or to see Parker in that bed, they needed someone strong right now. “How is he?”