23. Chapter 23
Chapter 23
River
I barely slept. Though we never let the dogs sleep with us, I’d carried Bronc and then Bull into the bedroom and put them both in bed with me.
I needed the warmth of their bodies. The softness of their coats to wrap around me, pretending it was Gray snoring instead of them. It was the only way I was going to sleep, and still I couldn’t.
Lying on my back, eyes trained on the ceiling, I lazily ran my fingers down their spines. The monotonous movement serving as no distraction from the movie on repeat in my mind. A loop of Gray slamming into that gate. Every sound, sight, and smell torturing me.
It wasn’t until my phone rang, with Tate’s name on the screen, that I finally bolted out of bed, knowing sleep wasn’t finding me anyhow.
It was three in the morning.
A witching hour of good or devastating news. The latter sure to send anyone into a bottomless pit of depression crippled by helplessness.
“He’s awake and asked for you,” Tate had whispered through the line.
It took everything in me to keep standing. Those beautiful words were everything I needed to hear. To someone outside of the medical field, this would sound like the greatest miracle, but my skepticism held me in place. Awake doesn’t mean complication-free. It doesn’t mean Gray will be who I find when I enter that room.
Traumatic brain injuries aren’t a simple, “Oh, the bone healed. It’s solid. With rehab, you’ll regain your strength and mobility.” It’s not always a linear line or even a clear path. Time is the only determinant of where the patient will land. It doesn’t matter that Gray asked for me. That small amount of progress could be washed away with the tiniest unnoticed bleed or swelling.
I’d told Tate I needed to take care of our animals here first , and then I would get over to the hospital. Unsure what was going to happen, I had my clinic schedule cleared for today. Though it’s been almost a day and a half since the injury, I need to be with him. To be available for anything he might need.
Tomorrow will be another story. I’ll be in the OR the entire day. I might be able to sneak away to see Gray for a few minutes here or there, but it’s likely I won’t get to him until the day is through.
Eating was the last thing I wanted to do. My stomach was churning, and I wasn’t confident I could keep anything down, but I also acknowledged that if I didn’t take care of myself, I couldn’t take care of him. Plus, if Gray is awake, he’ll question it, and making the patient mad will only raise his blood pressure, which could destroy his recovery. I won’t be responsible for that.
“Come on boys,” I flag Bronc and Bull behind me just after four thirty. Our normal time to venture outside to start chores.
That same nausea still curls in my stomach, but so far the coffee, toast, bacon , and eggs have stayed put. A small mercy I hope gives me enough energy to get through our grinding work quickly.
Gray’s hired hand—Beau, I think—said they’d be back by five, but I figured I’d get a head start. I still want to do my part even if we have help.
Manly grunts and barked orders drift through the air the closer I get to the barn, Old Man Wilber exiting seconds before Bull charges him.
Wilber immediately scratches behind his ears before the dog abandons him for Patches. That damn dog is a menace, but Wilber goes nowhere without his companion.
“What are you doing here?” I squawk, peering around his shoulder, noticing there are at least two dozen guys moving through the barn and distant field behind him. Each one carrying out the tasks Gray and I often do on our own each morning.
“Helping.”
“Gray already hired—”
Hocking a loogie, Wilber spits at the ground, his usual grimace deepening. “Hush, girl. You need to be at the hospital with your man not out here shoveling horse shit. Now git.”
“Wilber, come on. You have no business being out here.”
“River, I swear. Don’t make me call your granny. You worry about that boy laid up there. He’s a good one. We help family.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and the first tear spills.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hug him close. “Thank you, Uncle Willy.”
His large palm claps my back twice before he holds me, too. “You ain’t called me that in a long time.”
Stepping out of his hold, I quirk a watery smile his way. “Time to bring it back. Ya know, since we’re family and all.”
I swear something glistens in his blue eyes before that normal grimace finds its way back to his face. “Now get out of here. We’ll make sure things ‘round here are handled, and I’ll feed the mutts this evening.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before speed walking back toward the house.
It’s only another twenty minutes before I’m dressed, with a bag of clothes packed for Gray. The dogs only whimper, watching me shuffle to the door with the duffle.
“I’ll be back tonight, boys. I promise. We’ll cuddle again.”
My words do nothing to appease them as sad eyes watch me close the front door. They both stand at the edge of the porch, but they don’t follow. Gray really has taught them well.
It’s a race through town and along the mountainside to the hospital. Pulling out my issued badge, I scan myself into the staff parking lot. No way I’m weaving up and down aisles trying to find the closest spot possible.
Clipping that same badge to the loop of my jeans, I make my way through the hospital with purpose. No one stops me, but a few of the nurses and doctors wave as I pass them.
I don’t stop to give them the same greeting; it’s normal behavior for me. This cold and distant exterior I’ve curated here in the hospital. A toughness I had to exude, so I was taken seriously as a surgeon.
No doubt my outburst with Buckner last night ruined some of that image. Both in relation to my normal cool and the man laid up in that hospital bed.
Not wanting to knock, I slowly shift the door open just enough to slip into the room and then close it until only a sliver of light peeks through. TBI patients often have sound and light sensitivity while they are healing, and I would hate to cause Gray anymore pain.
The moment I’ve made it around the divider curtain, his head slowly swivels in my direction. His dry lips turning up into the softest of smiles.
Dropping the bag, I race to his side. “Baby, you’re awake.”
There’s no stopping the tears or the sob that breaks free. With no one here to witness this but Tate and Gray, I don’t try to hide how I feel about him. How scared I was and how grateful I am that he’s still here with me.
My palms lightly cup his cheeks as my lips press to the tip of his nose.
“Don’t cry. I’m fine,” he croaks. That normal bravado he walks around with is missing. Whether it’s because of the injury or he’s trying to hide his own fears from me is an issue for later. I already know how he feels about hospitals after his last bad injury.
Being here can’t be easy on him. The same place they brought him last time, urging him to quit.
I turn to face Tate. “Has the doctor been in yet?”
“Yes, but I asked him to come back once you were here.”
“Thank you.” Wrapping my arms around Tate’s neck, I hold him the same way I’d held Wilber this morning. “Thank you.” I pull back, cupping the back of his head, staring up into those brown eyes just a shade lighter than Gray’s.
He awkwardly clears his throat before I step away. “I’m going to go grab a shower and check on Joy.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the man I love.
Sitting by Gray’s side in the same chair his brother had been in, I grab hold of his hand.
“Tell me what happened.” His voice is so hoarse. I wonder if they’ve allowed him water yet. Digging in my pocket, I pull out my chapstick, smearing it across his mouth. The minty sensation will at least give him a little reprieve.
“Gray, I don’t think I could bear living that again.” My eyes cast down to where his fingers lightly squeeze mine.
“Tell me.”
So I do. Everything from how amazing his ride had been to the sound of his spine cracking against the metal fencing. His reluctance to come here, which only makes him chuckle, resulting in my narrowed eyes laser-focused on his face as I continue. I tell him about his injuries and what they could mean, each explanation only darkening his expression.
“Will I ride again?” he groans.
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I keep my voice soft. The same tone I’ve used so many times when I know the answer should be no, but also acknowledge the progression of healing, will be the true indicator.
“Will I?” he demands.
Dropping my forehead or our joined hands, I suck in several shaky breaths before meeting his eyes again. “As long as you heal properly.”
It’s not that I don’t want Gray to do what he loves. He’s too good to walk away if he’s in proper health to do it. That’s the part that worries me. Thinking back to my first interaction with Gray I am not confident he’ll take the necessary steps to let his body recover before he goes about climbing on the back of another ton-sized animal ready to toss him into oblivion.
“Baby, I’m fine,” he says again, his hand slipping out of mine to run over my hair.
“I think you will be, but it doesn’t mean I’m not scared, and our boys miss you. I’ve never seen such sad eyes.”
“Say that again,” he breathes.
“The dogs have sad eyes?”
“No. The part where you called them ours.”
“Our boys miss you?” I’m confused about why he wanted that repeated.
He groans happily, slightly nuzzling further into the mattress. “I’m getting tired again. But now I’m happy.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you and our boys,” he whispers, as his eyelids flutter shut.
“Gray. Gray.” I lightly tug at his hand, but only a tiny snore sneaks out.
Of course he would say something like that and fall asleep.