Changing Course (Wrecked and Ruined #1)(10)

"Sir, she doesn't have a room assigned yet. Give me a minute and I'll ask the doctor where she is."

"Forget it," I snap, motioning for her to buzz me through the doors into the emergency area. She pauses, unsure if she should let such an obviously unstable man into the back. Looking over my shoulder at Dave for some sort of answer, he motions for her to let us in.

Dave darts in front, stopping me by shoving his hand into my chest, "You have to calm down! I know you're upset, but no one is going to tell you where she is when you're acting like this. You're scaring the nurses. Even if you do find her, do you think her seeing you this crazy is going to help her? Take a deep breath and chill the hell out!"

He's right. I know he is. But a few minutes ago, I thought my wife was dead. I just need to lay my eyes on her to truly convince myself that she's okay. I take a deep breath and allow Dave to take the lead asking doctors and nurses for Sarah's whereabouts.

Finally, a doctor informs us that she is awake and they are running a CT scan. He leads us into her room while we wait for her to return. In the corner, draped across a chair, is a plastic bag where they placed all her belongings. I reach inside and pull out her jewelry, trying to find something that will make me feel close to her right now. I just need something of hers to hold, something tangible to ground me. I decide on her wedding rings, but the first thing I pull out is a silly half of a heart that says, "Be Fri." I know that Manda has the other half, and when joined together it says, "Best Friends." The girls wore these silly necklaces everywhere. While I would love to tell you they have had them since their middle school years, the truth is they bought them last year while away on vacation together.

"Oh God, Manda." Suddenly, it hits me that she's gone. I fall back into the chair, tears springing from my eyes. "This isn't happening."

Dave’s leaning against the door jam, allowing me just enough privacy without actually leaving me alone.

"Where's Caleb?" I manage to choke out.

"He's with the body, they got here a few minutes ago."

"I need to find him."

"No, you don't. You need to be here for Sarah when she gets back. There is nothing you can do for Jones right now."

Again, I know he is right, but that doesn't stop the stabbing pain in my heart at the very thought of what Caleb is feeling right now. I sink deeper into my chair trying to calm my nerves by reminding myself that Sarah is alive and well. I'm the lucky one in this situation. That's a joke though. This hurts too damn bad to feel lucky about anything.

An hour later, they wheel in a battered woman who barely resembles my wife. I jump out of the chair and the moment our eyes lock Sarah bursts into tears. I rush over, needing to hold her (although by the way she looks, it's going to hurt like hell). As gently as I can, I lean over her bed drawing her face into my neck.

"What happened, Brett? No one will tell me anything. They just keep telling me I was in a wreck, but I don't even remember being in a car. Everyone keeps staring at me, and I can't help but feel like I'm missing something here."

"Shhhh, it’s okay baby. I've got you now," I whisper into her blood-streaked hair. I realize this is the only comfort she has before I have to tell her all about the accident.



"SARAH, CALM down."

"Who was driving the f*cking car, Brett? I swear to God, if you don't tell me, I'm going to get out of this bed and ask Caleb myself."

"You have to calm down, or the doctors are going to kick me out."

"Who was driving the f*cking car?" she screams with a guttural intensity that makes me know she will make good on her threat of asking Caleb. The last thing in the world she needs to do was talk to Manda's grieving fiancé.

"We don't know, beautiful. Witnesses at the restaurant said you were driving, but the first on scene said it was a redhead behind the wheel. You were both thrown from the car, we honestly don't know." I try to explain as gently as I can.

"Oh my God, I killed her. I killed Manda!" she yells slapping her hand over her mouth and dropping her chin to her chest.

"Hey, stop! You didn't kill her. Even if you were driving, you did not kill Manda." I move closer, trying to find a part of her body to rub that isn't covered in a bruise. I fail miserably, instead deciding to just lean my forehead to hers.

"Get out," she whispers from behind her hands.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

"Get the f*ck out of my room. I don't want to look at your face right now." Her tone is filled with hate, a strain in her voice that in all of our seven years together, I have never heard her use.

I look around the room, clueless as to what to say or why her rage is aimed at me. Just as I decide that maybe leaving is the best option if she is going to be this upset, she starts hitting the nurse call button and screaming for help. I stand rooted to the ground as she unravels in front of me.

Kicking and screaming, she starts trying to get on her feet. She hysterically starts to remove her IV and other monitoring wires, but only succeeds in reopening the gash on her arm. I watch frozen as blood drips down to the floor. Finally, I snap out of my stupor and grab her battered body to restrain her movements.

"Jesus Sarah, what are you doing? Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself."