CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Wes surfaced in pieces. A steady beeping sounded somewhere near his head. Voices moved through the hallway while warmth covered his hand. He tried to follow the sounds. They drifted away each time sleep pulled him under.
The first time he managed to open his eyes, a bright light blurred everything above him. He blinked until the outline of someone appeared beside the bed. His eyes closed again before the face came into focus.
“Wes?” his mother whispered. “Can you hear me?”
He heard the fear beneath her voice. Answering felt impossible. His mouth was dry. His body felt too heavy to move. Keeping his eyes open for those few seconds had taken more strength than he had.
“I'm right here,” his mother said as her fingers tightened around his hand. “You rest. I'm not going anywhere.”
Wes tried to hold on to her voice. The warmth around his hand remained after everything else disappeared. Then the darkness carried him away again.
Pain came with him the next time he surfaced. His shoulder throbbed beneath something holding it in place. His ribs hurt with every breath. Pressure pounded behind his eyes until opening them felt impossible.
He forced them open anyway and waited for the room to stop moving. His mother remained beside him with her head against the back of the chair. Her eyes were closed. Her hand still covered his.
“Mom?” Wes said.
Her eyes opened immediately. She jerked upright and leaned over the bed. “Wes?”
He blinked at her until her face became clear. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
His mother stared at him for a moment before her face crumpled. She covered her mouth with one hand while tears filled her eyes. A broken sound escaped her before she pressed his hand against her cheek.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered. “You're awake.”
“I was asleep,” Wes said.
His mother shook her head. “You were more than asleep.”
Wes frowned and looked around the room. An IV disappeared beneath tape on the back of his hand. Wires ran beneath his gown. A monitor marked every beat of his heart. His eyes settled on the sling holding his left shoulder against his body.
“Where am I?” Wes asked.
“You're in the hospital,” his mother replied.
“Why?” Wes asked.
His mother took his hand again and held it between both of hers. “You were in a car accident.”
Wes stared at her while the words settled slowly into place. He remembered driving. Everything after that returned in scattered pieces that refused to join together.
“I was driving?” Wes asked.
“Yes,” his mother replied.
He closed his eyes and searched for the memory. Music played through the speakers in his truck. Bee reached for the radio while he skipped her song again. Her voice filled the cab as she accused him of being too confident. Headlights flashed across the inside of his eyelids.
Wes opened his eyes. “Bee?”
His mother tightened her hold on his hand. “She's alive.”
The answer gave him one breath of relief before fear rushed back in. “Where is she?” he asked.
“She's here,” his mother replied.
“In the hospital?” Wes asked.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“Is she okay?” Wes asked.
“She's hurt. She's going to be okay,” his mother assured him.
Wes tried to push himself higher against the pillows. Pain tore through his shoulder and spread across his ribs. His breath caught as the room tilted. The monitor beside him began marking his heartbeat faster.
His mother stood and placed a careful hand against his uninjured shoulder. “Don't do that. You can't move around yet.”
“I need to see her,” Wes said through clenched teeth.
“You need to stay in this bed,” his mother replied.
“Mom,” Wes said.
“Wes,” she warned him.
He stared at her while he waited for the pain to loosen its grip. “I'm awake.”
“You've been fully awake for maybe two minutes,” his mother said.
“That still counts,” Wes argued.
His mother shook her head. The corner of her mouth moved slightly before she sat down again. Her fingers closed around his hand as if she expected him to disappear the moment she let go.
“Is she really okay?” Wes asked. “You saw her?”
“I saw her,” his mother replied.
“You talked to her?” Wes asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“What did she say?” Wes asked.
His mother gave him a tired look. “What do you think she said?”
“I don't know,” Wes replied. “That's why I'm asking.”
“She asked about you,” his mother said.
Wes waited for more. When his mother stayed quiet, his fingers moved weakly inside her grip. “What else?”
“She asked about you again,” his mother replied.
The smallest smile touched his mouth. “Sounds like Bee.”
“She was determined,” his mother said.
“How determined?” Wes asked.
“She wasn't taking no for an answer,” his mother replied.
The smile disappeared from his face. “Why would anybody tell her no?”
His mother hesitated before answering. “They couldn't give her information about you because she isn't family.”
Wes frowned. “She was in the accident with me.”
“I know,” his mother said.
“That doesn't make any sense,” Wes replied.
“I know,” she repeated.
Wes looked at the blanket covering him. He pictured Bee waking in another room with pain she did not understand. He imagined her searching every face that entered and asking the same question until her voice gave out.
“She didn't know if I was alive?” Wes asked.
“Not at first,” his mother replied.
He looked at her again. The sympathy in her eyes made his stomach turn before she said anything else. “How long?”
“Long enough,” his mother said.
“Mom,” Wes pressed.
His mother drew a slow breath. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands before she answered. “She was terrified, Wes. She kept asking where you were. Nobody would tell her anything until I got there.”
Wes swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “She thought I was dead?”
His mother could not hide the answer from her face. “She didn't know what to think.”
“Did she cry?” Wes asked.
His mother's grip tightened around his hand. “She tried not to. Her ribs hurt every time she did. She couldn't stop.”
The monitor continued marking his heartbeat while Wes stared at the ceiling.
Bee had been somewhere in the same building, alone with a question that should never have gone unanswered.
He had been close enough for her to reach if either of them had been able to move.
She still hadn't known if he'd survived.
“Was she alone?” Wes asked.
“Her grandma came,” his mother assured him. “She stayed with her.”
Wes closed his eyes. “Good.”
His mother brushed her thumb across the back of his hand. “She cares about you. A lot more than she knows how to hide.”
Wes opened one eye. “Please never tell her you said that.”
“I would never,” his mother replied.
He studied her face. “You're lying.”
“I raised you,” she said. “I'm allowed.”
Wes let his eyes close again with a faint smile still on his face. His mother watched until he opened both eyes. The humor faded from her expression when his attention returned to the sling around his shoulder.
“How bad am I?” Wes asked.
His mother's smile faded. “Do you want the whole list?”
“I should probably know what's wrong with me,” Wes replied.
“You broke your collarbone,” his mother explained. “Your shoulder was badly injured. You have several fractured ribs and a concussion. You're covered in cuts and bruises. Some of the cuts needed stitches.”
Wes stared at her. “That's a lot.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“Am I going to be okay?” Wes asked.
His mother's lips parted before any words came. The hesitation frightened him more than the list had. She squeezed his hand and leaned closer.
“The doctors expect you to recover,” she said. “Your shoulder is going to take time. They said the recovery will be hard. You're stable.”
“They think I'll be okay?” Wes asked.
“They do,” his mother assured him. “You're here. You're awake. That's what matters right now.”
Wes watched her face for several seconds. The fear had not left her eyes even while she tried to take it out of her voice. Now that his mind felt clearer, he could see how exhausted she was.
“You haven't slept,” Wes said.
“I slept,” his mother replied.
“Where?” Wes asked.
His mother pointed toward the chair. The thin cushion and rigid back made her answer impossible to believe. Her purse sat near one leg beside an untouched cup of coffee.
“That isn't sleeping,” Wes said.
“It counted last night,” his mother replied.
“You should go home,” Wes said.
“No,” his mother answered.
“Mom,” Wes protested.
“No,” she repeated.
“I'm awake now,” Wes said.
“You were unconscious earlier,” his mother replied.
“I'm not now,” he pointed out.
His mother leaned toward him. “You scared me half to death. I'm not leaving because you decided you're fine five minutes after waking up.”
Wes stopped arguing. Her eyes filled again. This time she did not wipe the tears away. He looked at her hand wrapped around his and realized she had probably held it through every hour he could not remember.
“I'm sorry,” Wes said quietly.
“You don't apologize for somebody hitting you,” his mother replied.
“I know,” he said.
“You didn't do anything wrong,” she told him.
“I know,” Wes repeated.
His mother's chin trembled before she pressed her lips together. “I thought I was going to lose you. I kept waiting for you to open your eyes. Every time you moved, I thought you were coming back. Then you would go again.”
Wes swallowed as his eyes burned. He turned his hand enough to hold hers back. The movement hurt. He needed her to feel it.
“I'm still here,” Wes said.
“I know,” his mother replied. “I just need a little time to believe it.”
“You're stuck with me,” he said.
His mother smiled through her tears. “Unfortunately.”
“That's rude,” Wes replied.
“You almost died once. Now I'm supposed to be nice to you?” she asked.
“Kind of,” he said.
“No,” his mother replied.
Wes let himself smile. He was careful not to laugh because of his ribs. The humor gave both of them a place to breathe. The fear remained in the way his mother held his hand. He rested until the pounding behind his eyes eased enough for another question.
“Was Bee in here?” Wes asked.
His mother looked at him. “What?”
“Did she come see me?” he asked.
“Yes,” his mother replied.
“When?” Wes asked.
“Earlier,” she said.
“How long was she here?” he asked.
“A while,” his mother replied.
Wes watched her face. A small change in her expression told him there was more to the answer. “What did she say?”
His mother hesitated. “I don't know.”
“You don't know?” Wes asked.
“We waited outside so she could talk to you,” his mother explained.
Wes glanced toward the door before looking back at her. “I was unconscious.”
“I noticed,” his mother replied.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
“I'm not smiling,” she said.
“You're being weird,” Wes insisted.
“I'm protecting somebody else's conversation,” his mother explained.
“You just said you didn't hear it,” Wes replied.
“I didn't,” she said. “I saw her when she came out.”
Wes studied her. “What did she look like?”
His mother's smile grew despite her attempt to hide it. “Like you need to ask Bee.”
“Did she say something bad?” Wes asked.
“She held your hand the entire time,” his mother replied. “I don't think she came in here to say something bad.”
“Something good?” he asked.
“Ask Bee,” his mother said.
Wes looked toward the door again. The need to see Bee settled deeper than curiosity. His mother had told him Bee was safe. He still needed to hear her voice and see her with his own eyes.
“Can I see her?” Wes asked.
“We need to tell the nurse you're fully awake first,” his mother replied.
“Then I can see her?” he asked.
“Then we'll see what the nurse says,” she answered.
“Can you tell Bee?” Wes asked.
“That you're awake?” his mother clarified.
“Yes,” he replied.
His mother reached for her phone. “I can do that.”
“Tell her I want to see her,” Wes added.
“I think she knows that part,” his mother said.
“How would she know?” he asked.
His mother looked at him over the top of her phone. “You've been asking for her even when you were barely conscious.”
Wes closed his eyes. Heat rose beneath the bruising on his face. “Please don't tell her that.”
“I would never,” his mother replied.
He opened his eyes again. “We already established that you're lying.”
“I promised nothing,” she said.
“You said you would never,” Wes reminded her.
“It was sarcasm,” his mother replied.
Wes gave her a tired look. “I almost died.”
“Are you going to use that now?” she asked.
“Probably,” Wes admitted.
His mother shook her head while typing into her phone. “You're definitely awake.”
Wes watched her send the message. The exhaustion he had been fighting crept over him again. This time he did not fear the pull of sleep. Bee knew he was alive. Soon he would see for himself that she was too.
“She'll know?” Wes asked quietly.
“She'll know,” his mother assured him.
“That I'm okay?” he asked.
“I'll tell her,” she replied.
“I want to see her?” Wes asked.
“Yes, Wes,” his mother said.
He let his eyes close. “Good.”
His mother settled into the chair and took his hand again. Wes no longer sank into the same empty darkness. Even as sleep began to take him, he could hear the monitor and feel her fingers wrapped around his.
Only a few minutes passed before his eyes opened again. The pain remained. So did the need to see Bee.
“Mom?” Wes said.
“I'm here,” she replied.
Wes looked toward the door. “Get Bee.”