Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(3)

“The truth, Erin,” she bit out.

“His left arm was completely severed near his… his elbow, Mom. There was nothing we could do.”

The way her eyebrows crinkled, I knew she was confused that such trauma could come from an automobile accident. I tried not to speak in complicated medical terms.

“What does that mean?”

I squeezed her hand in mine. “If he pulls through this, he’ll need to wear a prosthetic arm. There was no way… They can’t reattach it.”

She sucked in a gasp.

Losing part of a limb wasn’t the worst of his injuries. “What concerns us the most right now is his head injury. He was unconscious when he came in.”

She wiped her nose while her tears made rivulets down her cheeks. “Oh my God. Is he? Is he going to make it?”

I was proud of her for trying to be brave. Should I lie? Fill her with false hope? Does she even need to know that he went into cardiac arrest during air transport?

“I don’t know, Mom.” In his current condition, it was a miracle he still had a pulse. I gave her the standard benign answer that we all recited from rote. “We’ll know more as we assess the test results.”

She nodded while her pale lips trembled.

“He has the best team looking out for him right now, Mom. Our chief orthopedic surgeon, Doctor Sechler, is working on him. He and Doctor Giffords are experts in their fields.” I squeezed her hand. “Just pray for him, okay?”

My mother’s gaze grew distant. I knew she was in shock. “Can I see him?”

“Not right now. He’s in surgery.” I adjusted my hospital pager as a way to divert my telling eyes. “I’ll go get another status update in a little bit.”

“Okay. And Karen? How is she?”

I took her momentary distraction discarding tissues to peg my father with a knowing stare, our silent communication that we’d perfected over the years when we wanted to keep her from overreacting. When his shoulders slumped and the sob erupted, I knew he understood.

Anguish tore through me with renewed force. I’d seen my father go through the gamut of emotions over the thirty years of my life but this was one of the few times I witnessed him shed tears.

The last time he’d cried openly was when the police had led me away in handcuffs when I was sixteen.

My eyes blurred and I wanted to leap into my dad’s arms to hug his pain away, but like that day, I felt shackled. Helpless. My Uncle Cal and Aunt Karen were their best friends. Cal was my mother’s twin and her only brother. The four of them did everything together—vacations, weekly dinners, shows, you name it. I knew this was killing them. It had to be as it was killing me.

I held back my sob while the spot above my breastplate started to burn, ripping fire up into my throat. “She, ah…”

My mom’s focus narrowed, questioning me.

“Their car flipped and rolled, Mom. She’s gone.”

“No. No. They were on their way home from Nate’s. We were there for Noah’s third birthday party. No. What do you mean, she’s gone? What are you saying? Oh, no. Please, no.”

Nothing. I was saying nothing. The flight nurse had informed me that my aunt had been partially ejected and then crushed under the vehicle. All I could manage was an unspoken no. As soon as my mom comprehended, her body started to convulse. Thankfully my father pulled her into his chest when she succumbed to the realization. Seeing my mother go through this level of anguish was my undoing.

I covered my mouth, trying to hold back my sputtering, but it was no use; my professional fa?ade lay in a heap in my lap.

My cousin Chris came rushing into the private waiting room, stopping abruptly when he found us.

“What happened to my parents?” Chris frantically demanded, looking directly at me for answers. “Where are they?”

His brother, Nate, was a few steps behind and white as the snowflakes dusting the shoulders of his heavy winter coat. His wife, Andrea, was clutching his hand, looking just as sickly and scared. “What the hell is going on?” Nate asked.

The Chaplain came in behind them, gently urging them farther into the waiting room with sympathetic smiles and soft-toned instructions.

After the Chaplain and I told them what they needed to know, I placed their father’s simple gold wedding ring into Nate’s hand.





“DAD, TAKE MOM home. It’s late. There’s nothing more you can do here. He’ll be in surgery for a few hours.” I held my dad’s arm, encouraging him along. “Go and get some rest, okay? I’ll call the second I have an update.”

He nodded stiffly, unable to fully converse with me.

I held his vacant stare, hoping he’d listen. “He’s not in good shape, Dad. You understand what I’m saying?”

He ran a hand back through his peppered hair. His voice hitched when he softly muttered, “Yeah.”

“Are you going to be able to drive home? I could drive you.”

My father shook his head. “No, no, I’ll be all right, sweetheart.”

I glanced over at my mother. She was holding Chris, consoling him. They both still had hope Uncle Cal would pull through, sharing their thoughts of his rehabilitation already. I, however, knew better. Part of me felt obligated to stay at work so a family member would be present when the Chaplain administered last rites. I’d seen too many traumas to know the difference, and my uncle was dangling on a very fine precipice.