Chapter 55 Hannah
HANNAH
It’s been hours with not many updates. Every second that passes I worry more. Shouldn’t he have been out of surgery by now? Wouldn’t they have more of a concrete update at least?
Josie brought me some fresh clothes to change into, and my sisters got here an hour ago. For now, we’re all waiting. No one has been talking much, except to distract the kids. They’ve all been doing so well, even baby Cooper.
Miles texted me a while ago with information about Arson.
He has him at his house, and I’ll pick him up when I eventually leave here.
He’s even sent me a few pictures too, so I know he’s really okay.
I feel so bad. He is probably worried sick and knows something is wrong.
I will have to make sure to give him extra love when I pick him up.
It’s nearly nine at night, I’m sure everyone is exhausted.
Fallon and Jason each have a kid laying in their laps fast asleep, and Marley and Beau are rocking the twins in the corner.
Gramps snores in a seat a few seats down from me, his cane laying against his leg.
Andrew has his arms molded around Josie, who has Cooper in a wrap around her chest.
We all love him so much that the thought of leaving is so hard to bear. I’m sure they all want to bring their kids home and put them to bed, but they’re staying.
I stand from my chair, the anxiety eating at me. I’ve gone through more cubes of ice than I can count, and nothing is helping. I’m not going to take a rescue med because what good am I if I’m asleep? I need to be here when he wakes up.
An hour later, a doctor makes her way through the double doors. “Thomas Cunningham?” she questions, and every single one of us stands. She smiles softly at the show of family.
“How is he?” Nikki asks, her voice wavering.
“Good. We were able to get all of the bullet fragments removed from his thigh. He got lucky. An inch over, and it would have hit his femoral artery. He still lost a lot of blood, but the transfusions we gave him will help with that. He’s in PACU now as he recovers, then will be transferred to the ICU after that.
He’ll be groggy for a while, but when he wakes up, you can see him.
We try to limit visitors while a person is in the ICU, so one or two members of the immediate family only. ”
Her words strike me in the chest. I won’t be able to see him. Heaviness sinks me back into the chair as I stare at the tiled floor.
The doctor says a few more things, but I can’t focus on a word.
I’m relieved that Thomas is okay. Of course I am, but I can’t stand the thought of not being able to see with my own two eyes that he’s okay.
I won’t be able to feel at ease until I see him.
Feel the warmth of his skin under mine, hear his heart beating in his chest. I can’t catch my breath as the anxiety rages.
“Hannah?” Nikki’s soothing voice breaks through the whooshing sound in my ears. Her hands wipe at the tears on my cheeks, cupping them gently. “Hannah, honey, can you take a deep breath for me?”
I try to do as she says, but it’s hard. One or two more deep breaths later, and my vision clears and my eyes lock with hers. “Good job, sweetie. You’re doing so good. Once we get the all clear, you and I are going to go see him, okay?”
I lift my gaze to see that the room around us has emptied besides my sister, Nikki, and Richard. How long was I spiraling?
“They said—”
“They said immediate family. You’re his fiancée,” Nikki interrupts me.
“But—” It was all fake. Nikki knows this. Everyone does.
“You’re his fiancée,” she reiterates. She raises her brow at me, daring me to question her again.
“Right,” I shakily nod. Julia is staring down at me, her face marred with an older sister's concern and care. “Where did everyone go?”
“They all decided to go home, especially with the kids. They will stop by tomorrow when he’s hopefully out of the ICU,” Julia explains.
Julia sticks around while we wait a bit longer, and then when we get the okay to see him, she hugs me tightly and says to call if I need anything. She and Tiff are staying at Grandma’s tonight.
Once she’s gone, I’m alone with Thomas’s parents. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” I ask Richard.
He stands, pulling me in for a side hug. “I’m sure. You need to see him, sweetie.”
“Thank you,” I murmur as he releases me. Nikki takes my hand and together, we follow one of the CNA’s as she leads us to the ICU. When we reach the doors to the unit, she holds the door open for us before leaving us with another nurse.
“Hi, who are you here for?” The new nurse asks.
“Thomas Cunningham,” Nikki responds. “They said he was in room six.”
“Oh, yes. He’s down the hall here, follow me.”
Twenty steps later, I’m standing outside of a sliding glass door.
The curtains behind the glass are closed, so we can’t see in, but I feel as though I need a minute to prepare myself.
The nurse opens the sliding door, pushing the curtain back a bit and asking the other nurse inside if he’s ready for visitors.
When they answer with a yes, I swallow the lump in my throat. She pushes the curtain back all the way, and I get my first glimpse of him.
His color is a bit better than the last time I saw him.
There’s a hint of pink in his cheeks. He has an oxygen cannula under his nose, and tubing coming out of his hospital gown at his chest. An oxygen monitor is on his pointer finger, and the blanket on top of him covers half of his body, his right leg uncovered, as the nurse checks the dressing on his thigh.
I stand in the doorway holding Nikki’s hand, unsure of what to do next. Can I touch him? Sit by his side and never leave?
Nikki pulls me with her to the opposite side of the bed of his injury. She lets go of my hand, leaving me floundering with nothing to ground me. Nikki does what a mother does best and cares for him. She fixes his hair, making sure it’s out of his face, while I stand here, scared out of my mind.
He’s alive. There is proof of that. His heart is beating and I can see him breathing. But I’m so scared. What if this happens again and next time he’s not so lucky?
There’s a chair beside his bed, so I pull it closer, sitting down.
The hand by me is laying on the sheet, completely free of any wires or tubes.
Tentatively, I reach out and take his hand in mine.
The immediate warmth that his touch brings me is so soothing.
A sob bursts from my lips at the contact.
I want to climb into this bed and hold him, but I can’t so for now, I rest my head on his hand, reveling in any sort of closeness I can get.
He’s going to be okay. His recovery will surely be hard with lots of physical therapy, but he’s here. We both are.