Chapter 43
43
Dylan
I t was easier to open my eyes this time. I found Juliette sleeping in the same chair she’d been in before, her hand on my arm. I tried to keep still. She needed her rest, and I was happy just to be awake watching her. I needed the time to process what the hell was happening.
“She hasn’t moved since you’ve been here,” my mom whispered from my other side.
My parents were on a loveseat on the opposite side of the room, with Liam and Ryan in chairs near them. I tried to smile reassuringly at them. They looked wrecked. Even my dad’s eyes were red like he’d been crying, and my mom was still crying.
Juliette made a sound, and I looked back at her. She looked like she’d been through hell, but I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
I pulled down the oxygen mask for a moment. “Hi, Juls.”
Damn, it hurt to talk. A cough forced its way up from deep in my lungs, reverberating through my swollen throat. My whole body shuddered with the effort, except—what the hell?
“My leg?” It was heavy and still.
Juliette looked past me to the other side of the bed, so I followed her gaze to Liam, Ryan, and my parents. They all looked at each other for a long moment before my dad nodded to Liam. My eyes fixed on him, begging for an explanation as my heart pounded with growing terror.
“Compound fracture of the tibia and fibula,” Liam said. “You’ve been screwed back together. Doc says you’ll probably have a full recovery, but you’ll be in the cast for a while and need PT afterwards.”
What the fuck? When did I have surgery? “How long have I been here?”
My mom sobbed and clutched my dad’s arm, and Juliette’s cries grew louder. I wasn’t surprised Juliette and my parents were wrecked, but even my friends were. Liam was disheveled. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess as though he’d been running his hands through it, and his eyes were tight with stress. Ryan was in a similar state as he frowned at Liam, waiting for him to answer. Shit.
“Two days. You were unconscious when you came in. Your oxygen was low, carbon monoxide was high. They intubated you in the ambulance. Once your breathing was stabilized—which took a little while, man—they tested the rest of you. You’re lucky the only major injury was your leg. You had surgery to have a plate and pins inserted. When they tried to remove the endotracheal tube, that’s when things went to shit.” Liam took a deep breath.
My mom’s cries grew louder in the silence. My dad was crying too. Fuck, was even Liam blinking back tears? My heart was racing, the machine’s fast beeping ramping up the tension even more.
“You’re okay, brother. Take slow breaths,” Ryan said, placing his hand on my arm.
“When they pulled the tube, your trachea swelled, closing your airway. You went into respiratory failure, then cardiac arrest. They revived you and reestablished your airway, and everything is good now.”
“How long?”
“Not too long.”
“Liam. How long?” The rasped words didn’t come out with the force I felt.
“Three minutes.”
Fuck. I almost died. I practically did die. For three fucking minutes, I was more dead than alive.
Brain damage can start in as little as three minutes.
I ran through a mental Rolodex of random facts. My first grade teacher was Mrs. Branch. Seven times eight is fifty six. My teammates are Liam, Ryan, Brady, Cole, and Ethan. My favorite color is blue. Juliette’s favorite color is turquoise. I fisted the blanket with both hands, feeling the scratchy fabric. I wiggled the toes of my right foot. I tried to wiggle my left, but nothing happened. I pulled furiously at the blanket.
“What’s the matter, man?”
“I can’t feel my leg.”
“It’s okay, it’s to be expected.”
“Move the blanket!”
Liam pulled the blanket off, and Ryan and my dad helped prop me up when I struggled to sit up on my own.
“It’s there, it’s just in the cast.”
“Touch my fucking leg.”
Liam palpated above the cast. “You feel that?”
“Yeah, I feel it.” I sank back down to the bed.
The room was silent but somehow still loud, filled with the sounds of their combined cries, the whooshing of the oxygen machine, my heartbeat pounding in my head, the heart monitor beeping like crazy, and the heavy weight of what came next. Was I okay? Would I be okay?
I latched onto Juliette like a lifeline. She leaned over and brushed her lips against my forehead. “You’re doing great. You’re going to be okay.”
I felt my body relax, my heart slow, just from her touch and words. I nodded. I needed more reassurance from her, but there was a knock on the door and an older doctor in gray scrubs entered.
“Dylan, it’s good to see you awake,” the doctor said to me before looking at everyone else. “Why don’t you get a bite to eat or go share the good news with his entourage in the waiting room while I examine him.”
Juliette stood but didn’t move away yet. She grazed her lips over my forehead again and whispered against my ear, “I love you.”
I lifted the oxygen mask. “I love you too, baby.” I coughed, but it was worth it to say those words to her.