Chapter 26
Marina
I stand when Harbor opens the door, expecting to see Cash or even Laura coming to check on us. I moved Cullen on autopilot, but now reality is sinking in.
Cash is not okay.
Wiping my hands down the side of my jeans, I glance from him to Cullen who’s playing an online puzzle game on my phone as a reminder to be careful of what he says.
The sounds of the game are loud. I was trying to do anything to divert Cullen’s attention from what was happening outside that door. And I lied, telling him his dad was okay.
A million questions cling to the tip of my tongue as I stare at Harbor.
I restrain myself from asking a single one in front of Cash’s son, but the knots in my stomach tighten, seeing how disheveled Harbor appears.
His usually tan face has paled, his brow hanging low.
Even his shirt is covered in what looks to be soot.
The announcer’s yelling comes back in a flash.
“Fire . . . no signs of life . . . Cash Ryatt has crashed.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I still refuse to let them fall. He says, “I need to speak with you.”
I nod so carelessly like the fate of my heart isn’t on the line. Rubbing the top of Cullen’s head, I kneel next to him. I can’t look into the eyes that match his dad’s and keep lying. So I keep my eyes trained on the game like he is. “I’ll be just on the other side of the door. Okay, buddy?”
“Okay,” he replies, too engrossed to seemingly care.
Maybe this is his way to cope, so I won’t force a different response.
I start pulling the door closed just enough to give us privacy on the other side of it but hold on to the knob.
For my own support? I have no idea how I’m even standing here other than I’m using my best skills to pretend I’m okay.
I’m not. It’s not been thirty minutes, but it’s felt like torturous hours.
I’ve been dying inside from the moment he crashed.
Cullen matters more than I do, though, so I’ve been holding it together for him, acting like this is normal.
I know it’s not . . . okay, so it’s for me as well, but now I’m faced with the strong possibility that everything won’t be fine, and worse.
Through the door’s crack, Cullen asks, “Is my daddy okay?”
Looking down, I see one green eye peeking up at me. I open the door enough to kiss his head and say, “He’s fine.” The lie doesn’t convince me, but I tell it anyway and put on the only smile I can force on my face, hoping it passes as genuine.
Cullen returns to the floor and picks up the game again, settling in against the couch.
I close the door all the way this time and put on my bravest face for Harbor, wondering if he’ll believe it.
It’s hard to swallow around the lump in my throat, but I manage to and whisper, “Please tell me I didn’t lie to his child. ”
My brother holds on to my arm as if I’ll need the support and whispers, “He’s been taken to the hospital.” My head spins. I’m grabbed by the shoulders. “You need to sit down.”
“I need to get to Cash.” I glance at the door where Cash’s son plays on the other side. “I need to take care of Cullen. Where’s Laura, Cash’s mom?”
“Loch took her to the hospital.”
“That’s not good.”
“The belt didn’t release . . .”
I stare at his eyes, trying to make sense of the words he’s saying. I just can’t. “What does that mean?”
“His left side is burned. We don’t know how extensively.”
“Burns? He’ll survive, right?” I’m finding relief in the details. “We need to go to the hospital.”
Harbor stops me. “We need to temper our expectations.”
“What are you talking about? He can recover from—”
“They’re concerned.”
“Who?”
“The medical team. He was airlifted out of here.”
Airlifted? “How far is the hospital from here?”
“It’s not far, but traffic is an issue.” He steps closer and leans, making sure our eyes are connected. “We need to get Cullen to his father as soon as possible. I need you to hold it together for him. We don’t want to scare him, but we need to leave now. I have a helicopter—”
“You have a helicopter?”
“We can’t waste time. Minutes matter.” Stepping back, he looks down and rubs his forehead. “I’m sorry, Marina.”
I blink back tears. “Why are you saying sorry?”
His own eyes are glassier. “I’m just sorry.”
The first tear falls, and then another. I wipe across my cheeks and hold back the rest. His sorry doesn’t mean anything.
“Cash is going to be fine. I feel it.” It doesn’t feel like such a lie when I say it with conviction.
He nods, studying my face. When he opens his mouth, I say, “Not another word, Harbor.”
Dabbing my shirt to the inside corners of my eyes, I turn, take a quick breath, and go back inside. After explaining that we get to go on a helicopter ride to see his dad and grandma, Cullen holds my hand like the brave boy he is, and we’re led through the paddock.
Silence overwhelms the space, though it’s filled with people. Cullen skips at my side as they all stare. Harbor pushes through the back door, leading us to the helicopter. Duncan and Noah are already buckled in when we first load Cullen, then I climb up and sit in the middle with him.
Cullen’s enthusiasm for being up this high has us all smiling at some point on the short ride. He points out buildings and water, bridges, and clouds. Dread returns when we start landing, devastating to the joy he is bringing.
As soon as we enter the hospital, Laura rushes to pick up Cullen and embrace him so tight that I know he’s going to start squirming for his freedom.
I stand nearby, unsure of how I fit in—I’m not Cash’s family or part of the team.
I’m a small partner in the business and his girlfriend.
I’m not sure either will give me access to him.
I look down the hall as if I’ll find a way to sneak in. He needs his mom and son, but won’t he also need me? My heart aches in a way that I’ve never felt before. I cover it with my hand as if the small gesture can hold it together.
Laura sets Cullen down but keeps a firm hold of his hand and turns to me. “Thank you for caring for Cullen.” Her swallow is heavier, the struggle shared. “I knew he was safe with you and that you’d protect him so I could be with my son.”
“Yes, of course.”
It’s quick, but I feel a little squeeze on my wrist. “And I’m glad you came,” she says as if I wouldn’t. How could I not?
Half of my soul is in the other room.
Looking into her eyes, I’m unsure what to say other than, “I’m sorry.”
She reaches out and rests her hand on my arm. “I have faith.”
I’m not sure in what—God, his recovery, or that things will work out how they should.
I don’t question her because we all handle tragedies differently, but I want to taste that same faith that makes her eyes shine through the tears she’s holding back.
“Have you heard anything?” I ask in a whisper, careful not to have Cullen overhear.
I’m grasping for any news that will give me the same buoy to hold on to while still finding comfort in her touch.
“He’s going to be okay, but they still don’t know the extent of the damage since they didn’t want to cut the layers of his clothes before reaching the hospital.
They’re doing that now, separating the fibers from the burns.
” Cullen wiggles at her side. She turns to me and says, “I’m going to find him a bathroom. ”
Noah comes over and envelops me in his arms. I didn’t know I needed the embrace until I was wrapped in it.
A stifled cry chokes me up, and the tears threatening to fall this whole time finally do.
I turn into him, hugging my brother. He’s always been here for me, and like in the past, he rubs my back and tells me everything will be okay.
He’s never lied before.
A doctor comes out and speaks to Duncan, Loch, and Harbor. As much as I want to rush to hear the diagnosis, a part of me wants to see Cash for who he is instead.
Laura joins them, letting Cullen run to me. I turn with open arms and pick him up to hold. Hugging him gives me the most comfort I’ve found.
Their bodies sag in relief, and the lightest of laughter is heard. The doctor smiles when he glances over at us. I breathe, not realizing I hadn’t been in the moments of their meeting. The pressure on my lungs eases as I take a few sobering breaths.
Noah rubs my shoulders as we continue to watch the others. They look over a few times and then at us. Harbor says, “Laura and Cullen are allowed to go in.”
She runs her hand over Cullen’s cheek, but her eyes pivot to me. “We have it approved for you to join us if you’d like. I understand if you’d rather see him privately later.”
“I want to see him.” Cullen’s wriggling in my arms to get down before voicing the same request. I hold his hand, and Laura holds his other as we’re led down the hall.
“Do we need to worry?” I ask, whispering above Cullen’s head.
That smile full of the faith she holds reflects in her eyes. “He’s going to be okay. His organs are fine. There might be nerve damage, but we won’t know at this stage.”
I try my best to digest the information, but I feel at a loss for what I’m walking into.
The doctor opens the door, and I follow them inside.
The usual hum of machines and heartbeats reach my ears before I can see him in the dimly lit room.
The curtains are drawn closed, but a small lamp glows from the bedside.
Cullen runs around to his dad, who’s sleeping. I hang back, still uncertain of my place. I love him. That love is bigger than my entire existence, but I’m not his family when it comes to having the right to see him.
I stay at the end of the bed, holding the railing. Laura moves to her son’s side and brushes the hair off his forehead. She takes his hand between hers and then glances back at me. “He looks good.” Her voice is shaken as if the worry she hid has finally revealed itself.
“He does,” I whisper, turning back to him. There’s no sign of the accident other than a scrape across his cheek and some bruising on his forehead. It’s minor compared to what I expected.
But I know that means the damage is beneath the covers.
I admonish my shallow thoughts that worshipped what was superficial—his handsome face, hard body, tanned skin.
None of that matters to me now. I know the man, which I didn’t know then.
I know his heart, and I’d recognize his soul in the dark. God, I love him so much.
Menacing tears return. I won’t let them fall, not in front of him. Cash would want me to be strong. So I will, for him.
“Hey, buddy.” I barely hear him as he taps the bed for Cullen to hop up.
Laura says, “I think we need to wait on that. He could hurt you, and we don’t want that to happen or for him to feel bad.”
Cash nods, not seeming to have the energy to argue.
Rolling his head forward, he locks his eyes on mine.
I don’t get the usual smirk or cocky half smile he wears like a statement in life.
I also don’t get the smile that appears when he looks at me like he’s the luckiest man in the world.
None of the familiar expressions are here, and I get nervous that I’ve unknowingly overstepped a boundary of his.
He says, “C’mere.” His voice is so low that I barely hear him.
I move around to the other side of his mom and son.
She pulls Cullen to the window, and they slip behind the curtains to look outside.
I appreciate the diversion she’s created so I can have this moment alone with Cash.
I suddenly feel shy standing at his bedside with him looking at me and not saying anything.
I’m struggling because the usual words don’t fit in this situation.
When he reaches for me, I cling to him. This is the lifeline I needed, the touch I craved to heal me so I’m strong enough to do the same for him.
I hang my head, and a tear hits the top of his hand.
“I’m okay, babe.” His words comfort me. Even his raspy voice puts me at ease despite the circumstances.
I finally swallow down the lump in my throat, the one that kept me from breathing normally. “Next time you need attention, I prefer it to be on the podium, hotshot.”
“Me too, but there’s always the next race in Canada.” He chuckles, but clenches and groans. “I’m thinking laughing is against the doctor’s orders.”
I’m not surprised he’s already thinking of the next race, but it’s unlikely he’ll be there. I don’t know how this will affect his career. At a minimum, there will be a delay . . . at worse—an ending. “You’ll be back on the track very soon.”
He nods again, the brief smile that was a balm for my soul already gone. He knows nothing is written in stone in sports, whether extreme or recreational.
His hand slips to the bed, and he looks toward the window, his lids hanging lower over his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of Cullen.”
“Of course.” I already miss his touch, but I won’t steal the last of his energy.
“Cullen?” he calls so low that I almost don’t hear him.
I move across the room and peek around the curtain. Smiling at him, I whisper, “Your dad wants to see you.”
He runs around me and hops at the railing. I move a chair so he can stand, and both can get a better perspective of each other.
Cash lifts his arm, and Cullen falls into it with an oomph. A groan escapes, but I know Cash will push through for his son. Cash is tired, his lids dipping closed. He glances once more at me and smiles before kissing Cullen’s head and whispering against his hair, “I love you.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
The moment they share is sweet, and Cullen will probably never be the wiser to the pain Cash is in. But I sense something is off, tweaked in his trademark grin just enough not to be caught by most observers. As if this is all for show.
But I am not most.