Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(154)

Panic set in, and I tried to get to him, but the paramedic held me down and my stretcher was shoved into the back of an ambulance. “Is he okay? Is he okay?” I just kept repeating it. I couldn’t stop myself.

Before I got an answer, the doors were closed and the vehicle took off. The sirens hurt my ears, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Why was he throwing up blood? Was he okay? He had to be okay.

Holding my hand, the paramedic told me, “They’ll do everything they can for him. I promise.”

His words didn’t help me much. I started sobbing.

I felt numb when we got to the hospital. Words hit my ears, but I couldn’t process any of them. Someone said I was in shock. Someone mentioned concussion. Head injury. Internal injuries. None of the words stuck, though, because a vision of Kellan heaving blood was all I could think about. I was poked, prodded, and my stomach was pushed and massaged. I was sore, my shoulder throbbed, but I wasn’t hurt. Only not knowing Kellan’s fate hurt.

He arrived at the ER right as a nurse injected a numbing agent into my head; I had to get stitches for the cut on my scalp. I saw him being wheeled past my room and hopped off the bed. Kellan wasn’t vomiting, but he wasn’t awake either. He looked completely lifeless. It scared the shit out of me.

My nurse hurried after me, telling me I needed her attention. The nurses hovering around Kellan were telling the doctor in their midst just what had happened to Kellan. I stayed back so I could listen without them seeing me; I did not want to be dragged away until I knew what was wrong. “Young male, early twenties, involved in a car accident. Was confused and light-headed at the scene, vomiting blood. Abdomen is distended, he has tachycardia and is hypotensive.”

The doctor nodded as he checked Kellan’s vitals. He pulled up his shirt, and even I could see his stomach was bulging. He tenderly pressed on it and Kellan’s eyes opened as he gasped in pain. “He’s bleeding internally. Prep him for surgery.”

That got my attention. Stepping forward, I asked the doctor, “Surgery? Is it bad? Is my husband going to be okay?”

The doctor gave me a polite smile. “I’ll do everything I can.” Blocking my path, he examined my head as Kellan was carted away from me. “You really need stitches for this cut.”

He nodded his head at the nurse behind me. She gently grabbed my arms and pulled me back into the exam room. Kellan was already gone, and I knew there was nothing I could do for him by trying to follow. Tears in my eyes, I turned to my nurse. “Do you know what happened to him?”

The nurse sat me on the table and pressed some gauze against my head. “Most likely, something inside of him ruptured. He’s bleeding. They need to remove or repair the damage as soon as possible.”

She grabbed a needle and some thread and I fought against the sudden acidic bile in my throat. “Is he going to die?” The tears in my eyes spilled down my cheeks. It couldn’t end like this.

The nurse didn’t answer me right away, and when she did, her voice was professional and courteous. “We have the best doctors in the country here. He’s in good hands.” I knew she was giving me a stock answer. I wanted a real one.

Jerking my head up, I glared at her. “That’s not an answer.”

Turning my head back into position, she told me, “I know, but it’s the only one I have for you.” Her words were gentle and kind, but firm, and I understood: My question wasn’t answerable.

They ran some tests on me after my head was sewn back together—X-rays, an MRI. They gave me a cold pack for the strain in my shoulder and told me to ice it twenty minutes every hour. Other than feeling sore and achy and having a headache, I felt fine, and I told them that repeatedly. When all of the tests backed up what I was saying, the hospital finally released me.

After filling out my paperwork, I shuffled out to the emergency room lobby to wait for news on Kellan. Nobody had been able to tell me anything yet. It was a busy day in the ER, and as I scanned the crowd, I wondered how many poor souls had had their lives altered today. Like me. Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back. I didn’t have time to break down, and I didn’t need to. Kellan was going to be fine.

My purse was strapped around my chest. It had miraculously remained attached to me throughout the entire accident. Setting down my cold compress, I dug through my bag for my cell phone. Hopefully it had also survived and still worked. I needed to be doing something. I needed to be active. If I stopped, even just for a second, I’d start to think, and I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to worry.

Thankfully, the phone was intact. Scrolling through the list of people that mattered to me, I wondered who to call first when I heard somebody shout at the top of their lungs, “Kiera!”

I looked up and scoured the patients until I found the person who had yelled for me. Eyes wide and bloodshot, my sister was running across the lobby to get to me; Griffin and Evan were right behind her. Anna engulfed me in a hug that knocked me back a step. It hurt, but I didn’t care. I tossed my arms around and hugged her back just as hard. “Anna,” I croaked, trying not to sob.

Smoothing my hair, she whispered, “You’re okay, you’re okay, thank God you’re okay.” Pulling back, she cupped my cheeks. “Do not ever scare me like that again, you hear me?”

I nodded as I fought back tears. Griffin and Evan stepped up to us. I looked around for Matt, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Both boys looked pale, somber. Griffin looked a little green as he held Gibson tight to his chest. “They won’t tell us anything. Do you know what’s happening to Kellan? Is he gonna be okay?” he asked, his voice breaking.