3. Braxton
Chapter 3
Braxton
“ I can’t stand this,” I mumble under my breath as I push through the doors and head out into the corridor to find a nurse, or a doctor—anyone who can give me answers. I also need a break from those two.
Christine is slumped in a chair, crying. Stephen tried to comfort her at one stage, but the daggers she shot him had him retreating to the corner of the room. She’s hurting—we all are. None of us know what condition Jemma’s in, but I know she’s going to need all our love and support. She hates what has become of her once tight-knit family, and their constant bickering would just upset her.
I head straight for the first counter I see, and force out a small smile when the nurse looks up from the computer screen in front of her.
“Hi. My wife, Jemma Spencer, was brought in earlier. She was in a car accident. Is there any news on her condition? I’d be grateful if you could help me, we’ve been waiting for almost half an hour. Anything, please.”
She gives me a sympathetic look before typing something into the keyboard. “She’s being looked at by the trauma team at the moment. I’ll see if someone can come and talk to you.”
Trauma team .
Those words are like a knife plunging straight into my heart. “Is there any way I can see her?” She’s probably frightened, and I know she would want me there, and I need to be with her.
“Not at the moment, Mr Spencer. I’m sorry. I’ll have someone come and give you an update ASAP.”
The desperate part of me wants to scream at the nurse and demand she take me to Jemma. Thankfully, the logical side of me wins out. She’s only doing her job.
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Turning, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk back towards that cramped room of torture; the thought of going back in there has me feeling stifled.
Stopping, I take a moment and roll my shoulders a few times. I feel lost, and completely alone. Jemma has always been my rock; we have always faced everything together. I’m craving her comfort, which is ironic—I’m not the one who was in a car accident, the one who is somewhere in this godforsaken hospital being worked on by the trauma team.
I feel even more helpless when I meet the hopeful eyes of Jemma’s parents. “No news yet, I’m afraid.”
Christine just buries her face in her hands and continues to cry.
“What’s taking so long?” her father asks.
I wish I knew. In my heart, I know her injuries are serious, but I refuse to let my mind go there. I’m not sure how much more I can take, or how long I can hold it together.
Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before the doctor finally enters the room. Please let this be good news . I know I’m grasping at straws; if things weren’t serious, we wouldn’t be in the hospital.
“Hi. I’m Doctor Bolton. I’m in charge of the trauma team looking after Jemma,” he says as he looks at each of us.
“I’m Braxton Spencer, Jemma’s husband.” I reach for his extended hand. “How is she?”
“Her injuries are serious.” His words have my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach, but at least that means she’s still alive. I have to grab onto anything positive; it’s the only way I’m going to get through this. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I’m Stephen, Jemma’s father,” he says, stepping forward. After shaking the doctor’s hand, he gestures towards Christine. “And this is my wife, Christine … Jemma’s mother.”
“Ex-wife,” Christine snaps.
My eyes briefly meet hers and I don’t hide my anger as I shake my head and retake my seat. “I’m sorry, Braxton,” she says, placing her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry, okay.”
I tune her out as I focus my attention on the doctor. “We’ve stabilised her,” he says.
I run my hands nervously down the front of my trousers. That doesn’t sound good, but in this moment, I honestly don’t care what condition I get her back in. I just need her back.
“What do you mean by ‘stabilise her’?” Stephen asks. “How bad are her injuries?”
“They are extensive,” he replies. “She’s been in and out of consciousness since she arrived. There appears to be some swelling on her brain, some internal bleeding, lesions and multiple broken bones. She’s been sedated and we’re taking her down for some scans now.”
“Christ.” The glimmer of hope I’ve been clinging to since the officer arrived at my house is dwindling at a rapid pace. “She’s going to pull through, right?”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s touch and go. The next forty-eight hours are going to be critical, but I assure you we’re doing everything possible to save your wife.”
I cannot bring myself to reply as the doctor’s words sink in. Forty-eight hours? I can’t wait that long. The last forty minutes nearly killed me. Sheer panic consumes me. I can’t lose her, I just can’t. I rub my hand over the tightness that has now settled in my chest. I can’t breathe without her. She’s my air.
She’s got to pull through this. She has to.
An hour passes and we’re still waiting for another update. How long does a scan take? I can’t seem to settle and haven’t stopped pacing since the doctor left. I’m going to wear a path in the linoleum floor pretty soon.
I’m pulled from my internal turmoil when my phone rings in my pocket. Glancing down at the screen I see Andrew’s name. Presumably, he’s wondering why Jemma hasn’t arrived at work. It’s unlike him to call me—the last time he did, it wasn’t pretty. Jemma had left for the day, and when he couldn’t find something in the office, he called her; when she didn’t answer her phone, he contacted me. He dared to tell me if she wasn’t back there within the hour to find it, he would fire her. He was just being unreasonable as usual, and I took great satisfaction in finally speaking my mind.
He was lucky to have someone like her working for him, and he knew it, it was the first and last time he ever spoke about her like that in front of me.
I have a good mind to ignore his call, but I know Jem wouldn’t want that. “Andrew,” I say in a clipped tone when I answer. I don’t even give him a chance to reply. “Jemma was in a car accident on the way to work. She won’t be coming in today.”
“I need her here,” he snaps. When he lets out an exasperated breath, I feel my temper rise.
“Well, it’s not possible.”
“Can I expect her on Monday?”
“No, she won’t be in on Monday either.” At this stage, I want to hang up on him, but again, I hold my temper for Jemma’s sake. “It’s serious. We’re at the hospital. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.” With that, I end the call. That’s all the explanation he needs.
As I go to place my phone back in the pocket of my suit jacket, it rings again. My thumb moves to press the decline button, thinking it’s him again, but I see Lucas’s number on the screen instead. Christ, our meeting .
“Where the hell are you?” he screeches into the phone. “I’ve been trying to call you for nearly an hour. Please don’t tell me you’re still stuck in traffic. I’ve been stalling for as long as I can. We need those plans.”
“Lucas.” I’m so glad to hear his voice, even if he’s shouting at me. I need to draw on his strength because I’m about to crumble. Pushing through the door, I step into the corridor. “I’m sorry, mate. I should’ve called … it slipped my mind.”
“Jesus, Brax. Slipped your mind? What the fuck is going on?” he grumbles down the line.
“I’m at the hospital.”
“What?” He pauses briefly before asking, “Why?”
“That accident,” I say, my voice cracking. “It was Jemma.”
“Shit!”
The line goes quiet, and the shock I felt when I first got word comes crashing back down. Saying it aloud makes it too real, and I know how badly Lucas will take the news. He not only adores Jemma, but he cares about me too.
Growing up, it was always just Jem and me, and then I went away to university, leaving her behind. It was the first time we’d ever been separated, and it was hard. We spoke every day and drove back and forth to be together each weekend, but it wasn’t the same. I struggled without her. I was lost—and Lucas saved me. Jemma was the other half of me, but I never realised how much I needed a bro, a best mate, until I found him.
“What hospital are you at? I’m coming to you now.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. In the eight years we’ve been friends, he has never let me down. “Don’t. Finish the meeting, it’s important. There’s nothing you can do here. We’re still waiting for news from the doctor.”
“I can be there for you. I know what she means to you. She’s your life.”
“She is,” I whisper, as tears sting my eyes, but I flat out refuse to cry. I need to stay strong for her. “Lucas, I don’t think I can survive without her.”
“Hang in there, buddy. Jem’s a fighter. She’ll pull through this.”
He has no idea how much I needed to hear those words.
“God, I hope so.”