BEAUTIFUL BROKEN MESS (Broken, Series #2)(106)

When the buzzing doesn’t stop, I lift up my heavy head and glare at the device causing my disturbance. The alarm clock is not flashing like it typically would, and it’s then that I realize it’s my cell phone that’s actually going off. Shit, sleeping in the hospital is really messing me up. I reach and grab for the phone and without looking at my caller, I slide my finger across the screen and answer.

“Jace, it’s your brother.” My mom’s voice kick-starts my heart and I almost don’t want to hear what she’s going to say next. “He’s awake. I need to tell Em, but I had to tell you first.”

“Shit! For real?” I scramble up to my feet. “Shit, mom.”

“Yeah, he started fluttering his eyes all night, but the nurses told me that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. That sometimes this happens. But about an hour ago, he started trying to open his eyes. They rolled him off to do a CT scan and EEG, but he should be back real soon. He wasn’t fully awake or anything, and who knows what he’ll be like when he comes back.”

“What the f*ck? Why didn’t you call me AN HOUR AGO?” I yell.

“Excuse me, Jace...language,” she replies sternly. “I’ve been running around signing paperwork and talking to doctors. They needed to run some tests, so none of us would have been able to see him anyway. Now you can come up here and be in the room before he gets back. I also need you to grab some clothes for him when you come.”

“MOM, A FUCKING HOUR AGO. How could you do this?” I roar.

Click.

Okay, maybe I deserved that. Put another check mark in my * box, but I still feel like she should have called a century ago. I knew coming back here to sleep was a bad idea.

I hurriedly change out of my dirty clothes. Rifling through my drawers, I grab articles of clothing that resemble a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, although I don’t stop to check. Then I run out into the hallway, sprint into Jax’s room, and throw items I think he will want into a bag. Em rushes into the apartment with wide, terrified eyes, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday. She doesn’t have to speak. We don’t need words, instead we both run.

In true Southern California fashion, we get stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for an extra thirty minutes. I should have expected this. I don’t know why I took the freaking highway. Em clutches her seat tightly and sways impatiently back and forth, but she doesn’t say a word. She’s been weird this week, like off-her-rocker weird. She smiles way too much, and I still haven’t seen her get upset once about Jax’s situation. She just repeats the phrase, “He’ll be okay,” over and over again.

When I pull up to the hospital, thankfully there is one open parking spot in the front row. I would have probably ended up illegally parking again otherwise, because the parking garage is all the way behind the hospital. My tires squeal as I whip it in between the white lines and slam the gears into park. Em already had her door open before I was fully stopped, and I run to catch up with her on the sidewalk.

We quickly rush inside to the information desk so we can get our visitors’ badges. Sheryl, a kind, elderly lady, smiles to acknowledge us, but when she sees the looks on our faces, she quickly tosses the badges to us and we continue running. I’ll thank her later. I’d take the stairs, but it’s probably not the best idea to run up six flights when I can’t even remember the last time I ate.

Em’s twitchy finger presses the correct floor number and we wait an eternity for the elevator to crawl up to where Jaxon is. Awake, hopefully. Em stands in a locked and ridged position while I stand ready to peel the doors open, if need be. When it finally chimes to let us know we’ve reached our destination, we rush out. Passing by the vacant nurse’s station, we make our way to the correct room.