Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Josy
It’s almost closing time at the shop, and I still haven’t heard from Noah. Not a call, not a text. Nothing.
I glance at my phone again, biting my lip. I’d sent him a couple of messages earlier, but he never responded. At first, I told myself he was busy, maybe caught up with work or something. But as the hours ticked by, my unease grew.
Finally, I give in and type another message, even though I’m starting to feel like a psycho.
Me: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you.
I hit send and watch the screen for a moment, waiting to see those three dots that signal he’s typing back. Nothing. The message is delivered but not read, like with the last few I’ve sent.
With a frustrated sigh, I set the phone down on the counter, trying to shake off the worry gnawing at my gut. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he’s just tied up. But the uneasy feeling in my chest refuses to go away.
The sound of the bell above the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up, hoping it’s him, but instead, I see Austin hurrying toward the counter.
Something’s wrong.
The look on his face—grave, almost panicked—sends a chill racing down my spine. My pulse quickens.
“Austin?” I say, my voice sharp with worry. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He stops in front of me, trying to catch his breath. “I came as soon as I found out,” he says, his voice tight.
My heart drops. “Found out what? Austin, you’re scaring me. Take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”
He nods, but his expression doesn’t change. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to figure out how to say whatever it is he needs to tell me.
“Esteban called me,” he finally says, his voice breaking slightly. “He asked me to come tell you—”
That’s all it takes for my mind to spiral. My stomach churns as a hundred awful scenarios play out in my head. My knees feel weak, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“What happened?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Is it Noah? Is he okay?”
Austin looks at me, his face filled with something I can only describe as heartbreak.
I clutch the counter tighter, bracing myself for what’s coming, because I already know—whatever he’s about to say is going to shatter me.
“He was working on a roof and fell,” Austin says, his voice low and heavy. “They took him to the hospital. Esteban’s with him now. He called me and asked me to come pick you up so I can take you there.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. “Is he okay, though?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Austin’s jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment. “I don’t know all the details,” he admits. “Esteban said he wasn’t responsive when they found him. They’ve got him in the emergency room now. His parents are on their way, but Esteban said they won’t tell him much because he’s not family.”
The word unresponsive echoes in my mind, making my stomach churn. I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under me.
“Okay,” I say, my voice shaky. “Let me close the shop, and we’ll go.”
I glance around the empty coffee shop, the familiar space feeling foreign and unimportant now. I take a shaky breath, trying to pull myself together, but my mind won’t stop racing with worst-case scenarios. What if he’s hurt badly? What if.
Violet steps out from the bathroom, her expression shifting the moment she sees Austin’s face. “What’s going on?” she asks, concern etched in her features.
Austin quickly fills her in, but his words blur into background noise. I can’t focus on anything except the thought of Noah lying in a hospital bed, hurt and alone. My heart aches, and tears prick the corners of my eyes.
Violet’s hand on my arm pulls me back to the present. “I’ll close up the shop,” she says gently, her voice steady. “Go with Austin. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I’m done here.”
I nod, barely registering her words. My body moves on autopilot as I grab my bag and follow Austin out the door.
The drive to the hospital is silent, the tension in the truck so thick it feels suffocating. Austin keeps his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to make conversation; I don’t think I could form a coherent sentence right now.
All I can do is stare out the window, my mind swirling with fear and worry. I can’t lose Noah. Not now. Not when we finally found each other, not when we have so much to look forward to.
The thought of him lying there, hurt and unresponsive, sends a fresh wave of panic through me. I press my hand to my chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart, but nothing works.
All I can think about is him. All I can hope for is that he’s okay.
When we arrive at the hospital, Austin parks his truck hastily, and we rush toward the emergency room. My legs feel like they’re moving on autopilot, each step heavier than the last. As the automatic doors slide open, I scan the room desperately, searching for Esteban.
“Hey,” I hear from behind me. I whirl around and see him standing near a row of chairs. His disheveled hair and the worry etched on his face make my stomach churn.
“What happened?” I demand, my voice shaking.
Esteban runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging.
“Noah was on the roof of the house we’re working on, doing an inspection.
We were talking while I was on the ground, keeping an eye on him.
When he pulled his phone from his back pocket, I don’t know how, but he lost his footing and fell.
He hit his head bad, Josy. There was a lot of blood.
” His voice cracks as he continues. “I called an ambulance immediately because he wasn’t responding, and I didn’t dare move him. ”
The world blurs as his words sink in. My knees feel weak, and I grab onto the nearest chair for support. “This is all my fault,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the hospital.
“What?” Esteban asks, stepping closer.
“I was texting him today,” I admit, the guilt clawing at my chest. “It was me. I distracted him.” My hands clutch at my hair as my breaths come faster. “Oh my God, what have I done?”
Esteban places a firm hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “Josy, stop. This isn’t your fault. Noah knows better than to grab his phone while he’s on a roof. I even yelled at him about it, but he didn’t listen. He’s been doing this work for years. He should’ve waited until he was back on the ground.”
His words are meant to comfort me, but they do little to lessen the crushing guilt. “But if I hadn’t—”
“Don’t,” Esteban interrupts, his tone gentle. “Blaming yourself won’t help him right now. Let’s sit down and wait for the doctors. That’s all we can do.”
Numbly, I let him guide me to a chair. The room feels cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights too harsh against the growing darkness in my mind. I sit down, my body heavy with despair.
All I can think about is how I’ve ruined everything. After all these years, I finally had the man of my dreams, only to lose him the very next day. The weight of it all presses against my chest until it’s hard to breathe.
Tears spill over, unstoppable now. I bury my face in my hands, the sobs shaking my body.
Esteban sits beside me, silent but present. His hand rests on my shoulder, a small but steady reminder that I’m not alone, even as my world feels like it’s crumbling.
Austin sits on the other side of me, his silent presence and Esteban’s unwavering support meaning the world to me right now.
After thirty minutes, Noah’s parents come rushing through the door, their faces pale with worry.
Esteban and Austin immediately stand to greet them, filling them in on what happened to Noah.
I can’t even bring myself to look at them.
What would they think when they find out it was me who texted him?
I haven’t been able to stop crying since I sat down in this chair, and Violet’s arrival only slightly eases the weight pressing down on my chest. She went to get tea for both of us, leaving me with a moment to gather myself, though it’s proving impossible.
A gentle hand rests on my back, and I glance up to see Beth Ross sitting beside me. Her warm, kind eyes study my tear-streaked face. “Are you okay, honey?” she asks softly.
I shake my head as fresh tears spill over. “No,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the weight of my fear.
She pulls me into a comforting embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay. My son is strong, and you need to stay calm. Everly feels everything that you’re feeling, and this can’t be good for her.”
Her words sink in slowly. Beth Ross is an incredible woman. She and James have been nothing but supportive since Noah and I told them about the baby, and here she is, consoling me instead of the other way around.
“James is asking at the desk for an update on Noah. We need to stay calm and wait,” she says gently, pulling back to meet my gaze.
I nod, knowing she’s right. I have to calm down; for Noah, for Everly, for myself. As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Everly starts kicking furiously, her tiny movements grounding me. I sit up straight and place a hand on my belly, rubbing soothing circles.
Beth smiles. “Is she moving?”
“Yes, right here,” I reply, pointing to the spot where Everly is making her presence known.
Beth places her hand where I guide her, and Everly doesn’t disappoint, her kicks continuing with enthusiasm. “Wow,” Beth says with a soft laugh. “We’ve got an active one in there.”
I manage a small smile, wiping away my tears. “She’s always like this. Once she starts, she keeps going for hours. The worst is at night. I’ll lay down, and she’ll start kicking, which sends me to the bathroom three or four times.”
Beth chuckles. “Oh, I remember those days. The joys of creating life. Noah was the worst of all my pregnancies. Morning sickness the entire time. And when he finally came into this world, he was kicking and screaming.” She smiles wistfully. “Then he turned into my serious, brooding boy.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, he’s definitely the brooding type.”
We share a moment of laughter before my emotions overwhelm me again, and tears spill over once more.
James returns then, his face lined with worry. “They’ve taken Noah for a CT and an MRI,” he says. “He still hasn’t woken up, and they want to rule out any internal injuries, especially bleeding in the brain or swelling.”
Beth grips my hand tightly as James continues. “The doctors said they’re also concerned about fractures or other trauma. They’ll check his spine, too, just to be safe.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. A million scenarios play out in my mind, each one worse than the last. I clutch Beth’s hand as tightly as she’s holding mine, silently praying for the man I love to come back to me, whole and okay.