20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
River
D eath is defined as the cessation of vital bodily function permanently.
My heart is pumping. A wild rhythm threatening to force the fist-sized organ through my rib cage and chest. The rush of blood through my veins roars like a churning river, ready to tear through the sensitive elastic vessel walls. My lungs burn as I fight to suck in breaths.
I’m very much alive, but you might as well have killed me as I watch a barely moving Gray lying prone in the dirt below me.
“Move!” The single word is barked in my voice, but it doesn’t sound like me. The finger curling around the sleeve of the man blocking my way down to the arena aren’t mine, either.
“Watch it!” A voice yells behind me as I shove my way past those hovering around the man who stole my heart and bought me cows.
“Gray! Gray!” It doesn’t matter how many times I shout his name or how hard I fight to get closer, I’m held back.
“Let her in. She’s the team doc,” a male voice shouts.
I’m suddenly released, falling to my knees at Gray’s side.
Those long thick lashes flutter against his dirt smeared skin. Those deep brown eyes fighting to focus on my face. His hand lifts the slightest, only to slap back against the hard dirt.
In all my years caring for patients, sometimes in emergency situations, I’ve never lost my cool. My hands have never trembled so harshly I can’t still them.
“River,” a large palm cups my arm. “Let the medics get him packaged up, okay?”
“No… hospital…” Gray groans. “Not. Going.” Each word is a struggle for him to produce. His howls of pain to follow the barely put-together sentence shattering my heart.
Gray’s arms barely have the strength to move, or maybe it’s the pain, but he does his best to swat away the medical personnel, strapping him to the backboard and lifting him onto the stretcher.
“Not. Stop.” He groans and growls.
“Gray, baby, you have to go,” I plead, my feet somehow carrying me to his side.
“No.”
And suddenly, a bit of Doctor River Thompson is back. The woman who can command the office and the operating room. “Grayson Garrison, you’re going. You don’t have a choice because if you die, I will bring you back to life and kill you myself.”
The fight drains out of him. Our eyes locking for long moments before the medics attempt to shove past me. “Ma’am, we need to go.”
“I’m coming.”
“Sorry—” A beefy arm strikes out in front of me. “You’re not. He’s too critical for us to have someone in the back.”
“I’m a doctor!”
“And I don’t care,” the woman snarls in my face before circling her finger through the air.
I can only watch them roll him away, Gray fighting the entire time. Then Tate is at my side, dragging me along with him. “Come on.”
Our pace is a hurried rush through the back of the area, following the EMS crew and watching them load Gray in the back of their ambulance. My heart stopping realizing that once again he’s unconscious.
“My keys,” I heave. “I need my keys.”
Strong hands grips my biceps, Tate’s face dipping close to mine as he turns me toward him. “You’re not driving. You’ll come with me.”
I only nod, fighting back the tears. River Thompson doesn’t cry in front of anyone, especially not a man.
The ambulance is long gone before Tate loads me into his truck and tears out of the parking lot.
My body won’t calm. Each inhaled breath like daggers stabbing me with the inflation of my lungs. A sign it’s been too long since the previous one.
“He’ll be fine,” Tate whispers.
I don’t have a response. I don’t know that. As a kid coming to the rodeo, we saw plenty of bad accidents. I’ve seen men thrown from bulls and horses banged up and bruised. Some walked out of that arena, and others didn’t.
But none of them were Gray.
The visual and sounds of him crashing into the fence plays on repeat. An endless, torturous loop of the bull’s grunts and cracking bone against a solid surface. It was easy to point it out. I’ve heard it so many times.
The moment we pull into the parking lot I’m jumping from the truck and racing inside. I’m blowing down the hallways, Tate calling after me, but I don’t stop until I reach the ED reception desk.
“I need you to let me back there for Gray Garrison.”
The woman eyes me warily. She wouldn’t know me. I’m not an emergency doctor, and if I am called in urgently, I’m not coming through the front entrance.
“Are you a relative, ma’am?” she asks politely.
“Did you hear me? Grayson Garrison was just brought in by ambulance. I need to get back there. I’m the… rodeo physician.”
I paused just long enough, knowing just being a freaked-out girlfriend might not be enough if they’re having to do life-saving measures. But I thought for sure the doctor’s card would get me the entrance I needed.
She slowly picks up the phone as if trying to not make any sudden movements. I only lean in closer, eager to speed this up. Gray needs me. I need him.
“Ma’am, give me just a moment. A doctor is coming out.”
Standing straight, I finally notice Tate at my side. Yet my brain is swirling a million miles a minute trying to recall who is on call for the weekend.
And then he appears, and my day gets monumentally worse.
“Ahh, River. I didn’t expect to see you here this weekend.”
“Cut the shit, Bruckner. Gray Garrison.” My swallow hurt as I force it down. " I need to get back there to him.”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
“Excuse me, you—” Tate’s hand is suddenly on my shoulder.
“Dr. Bruckner, please. Dr. Thompson is the rodeo doctor who was with Gray.”
“And you are, son?” Bruckner stares down his proud nose at Tate. He’s seen Gray, there’s no way he wouldn’t know this is his brother.
“Tate Garrison. I’m Grayson’s elder brother. Will you please let us in.”
Bruckner sighs heavily as if he’s so disappointed with the answer he is above to give.
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that. Your brother has a number of significant injuries and is being taken up to surgery as we speak.”
“For what?” I lunge forward with a snarl.
Bruckner doesn’t even look my way, keeping his eyes trained on Tate’s face. “What is happening?” Tate croaks.
“Your brother has a subdural hematoma, and if we don’t release that blood now, the pressure could become too much.”
“What does that mean?” Tate’s breaths turn ragged.
“It means he could be brain-dead,” I whisper. “Bruckner, let me back there. Now!”
“Sorry, River. You’re not kin. Mr. Garrison, someone will come get you once we have more news about your brother.”
“You inbred asshole,” I growl after Bruckner as he turns away from us. Yet, he doesn’t pause his steps. His rotation is just slow enough that I can see the quirk of his grin before he disappears back behind the badge-protected doors.
If only I’d grabbed my things, I’d have mine here with me too.