Crashed(book three)(15)

Again, the whoosh of doors, but this time I don’t cringe. The beast on the inside is much more palpable then the one outside. My breath begins to even some and my heart decelerates. I am pushed down into a chair, and when I look up Sammy’s eyes meet mine, searching for something.

“What in the hell do you think you were doing? They could’ve eaten you alive,” he swears. It is such a flagrant show of emotion from the otherwise stoic bodyguard that I realize my mistake in going outside. I’m still finding my footing in Colton’s very public world; and then I feel horrible because while I’ve been in the waiting room surrounded by everyone, I realize Sammy’s been out here by himself making sure that we’re left alone and undisturbed.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” I breathe an apology. “I just needed some air and … I’m sorry.”

Concern lingers in his eyes. “Are you okay? Have you eaten anything? You almost fainted there. I think that you need to eat some—”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” I say as I stand slowly. I think I surprise him when I reach out and squeeze his hand. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, although the gesture is anything but. “As long as he is okay, then I’ll be fine.”

He nods at me as he turns to reclaim his post at the hospital doors before I can say anything else. My eyes track his movements for a moment, the callous comments from the press reverberating through my mind, while I build up the courage to walk back to the waiting room.

I close my eyes for a moment. I will myself to feel anything other than the numbness that consumes my soul. I try to pull from my depths of despair the sound of his laugh, the taste of his kiss, even his stubborn nature and staunch resolve—anything to cinch together the seams of my heart that Colton’s love stitched backed together.

Not inconsequential, Rylee. You could never be inconsequential.

The memory whispers through my mind and is like flint re-sparking to life tiny flickers of hope. I take a deep breath and will my feet to move forward down the long corridor to where everyone else waits impatiently. I am just passing the nurses station when I hear Colton’s name mentioned by two nurses whose backs are facing me. I slow my stride, trying to catch any bit of information I can. I try to force my mind from fretting that we’re being lied to about the gravity of the situation, when I hear the words that punch the air from my lungs.

Makes my heart stop.

Causes a shiver to ricochet through my body.

“Who’s in OR One with Mr. Donavan?”

“Dr. Irons is lead on the case.”

“Well hell, if there’s anyone I’d want operating on me in this circumstance, it sure as hell would be Ironman.”

Spiderman.

I gasp, the nurses turn to take notice of me. The taller of the two steps forward and angles her head at me. “Can I help you miss?”

Batman.

“What did you just call Dr. Irons?”

Superman.

She looks at me, a slight crease in her brow. “You mean our nickname for Dr. Irons?”

Ironman.

All I can do is nod my head because my throat chokes with hope. “Oh, he’s known around here as Ironman, sweetie. Do you need something?”

Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.

I just shake my head again then take the three steps toward the waiting room, but sag against a wall and slide down to the floor, as I become overwhelmed with hope, overpowered by the presence of Colton’s beloved superheroes.

A childhood obsession now turned into an adult’s grasp on hope.