Chapter Thirty-Two
Grayson
The emergency room in Rafter’s Falls is packed. Machines beep loud enough to echo throughout the hallways, people in white coats and blue scrubs rush around while stretchers are wheeled from room to room. The stale stench of bleach and metal fills my nose, and bile tickles the back of my throat.
Reid walks in front of Cole and I, beelining towards the reception desk. There are at least some plants down here, giving this place a sense of naturalism, but apart from that, it’s all stark and clinical.
I’ve never liked hospitals. They always feel so cold and bitter. Grief clings to everything and there’s so much pressure in the air. The last time I was here was with Holden, and that was horrible. To see my younger brother, normally so strong and stoic, breaking down to tears was painful.
But Mum needs me right now.
She needs all of us.
Eyes darting about rapidly, there’s so much movement that I can’t keep track what’s happening in here.
As soon as we reach the desk, Reid takes charge, like he always does as the oldest child.
But for once, I’m in no need to fight him on that.
I don’t think I’d be able to squeeze any words out if I tried.
“We’re here for Hazel Lawson. She came in by ambulance with a seizure,” Reid tells the middle-aged nurse sitting at the computer. His voice is somehow calm, but I doubt he is internally. He’s probably screaming like I am.
“I just got an update. She’s currently having some tests run. You’re welcome to wait out here or in room 305. I believe your father is there. He came in the ambulance with her.”
The air in my throat clogs as I nod, my pulse stammering to the point that I might burst apart.
“Which way is that?” Reid asks, jaw set tightly.
The nurse points right. “Down the hall on the left.”
“Thank you,” I manage to squeeze out, my lungs constricting.
Cole keeps up with our longer strides as we hurry into the smaller room.
There’s a window on the back wall, a large bed with machines and cords, and two chairs.
As soon as we enter, Dad stands from one of the chairs.
I see the tinge of pink in his eyes, and I embrace him immediately.
He hugs the others before taking a seat in the chair again, sniffing.
He’s still in his ranch clothes, with dirt on his hands and forehead.
“Dad, what happened?” Reid asks.
He sniffs again, taking his hat off and rubbing his thinning hair.
“Your mother and I were at home. We were outside, because I needed to show her something in the top paddock. She was a little out of breath going up there, but I didn’t think much of it.
I knew when she woke up that she wasn’t feeling well.
Those blasted headaches.” He pauses to rub his eyes.
I sink down on the side of the bed. “She all of a sudden stopped responding to me, and then when I realised what was happening, she collapsed and started twitching.”
My eyes press shut as Dad lets out a strangled choke.
“You had to see that?” Cole breathes out.
Reid elbows his side. “At least you were with her when it happened. Imagine if she was alone. It could…”
It could have been fatal.
Dad nods, his elbows resting on his legs. I lean over and pat his shoulder, my eyes prickling with moisture. “I just hope she’ll be all right. I told her to get her headaches looked at.”
My chin dips, avoiding Dad’s frustrated face. “I told her to as well. It was bothering me how she was avoiding seeing someone about it.” Dad stands, hands digging into his jean pockets as he gazes out the window at the storm clouds beyond that are heavy and a few minutes from downpouring.
“She’s here now, though. She’s in good hands, and we just have to wait to find out what’s happened,” Reid says.
My throat bobs as I look at my brothers, eyes wide and glistening. I know my face must look similar.
“Now we wait,” Cole murmurs, sinking down in the spare chair.
Panting sounds in the doorway. Macie rushes in first, yanking Reid in a hug and sobbing into his neck. Laynie rounds the corner, looking puffed.
Standing from the bed, she’s in my arms a moment later, forehead tipped against my chest, and I let out a cracked sob. Her arms tighten around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, and I fold myself around her, letting the pent up feelings release all at once.
“Austin. We came as soon as Reid called,” Macie’s voice comes out quickly, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her hug my dad.
Laynie’s fingers dig into my back, and I rest my chin on her head, shutting my eyes to turn off the rest of the world. It’s too hard. It’s too much for my mind to take.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Laynie’s hand curves around my neck. I cry into her neck, not caring that my brothers are here. I hate the idea of losing people. It’s always terrified me. To receive that phone call from Dad almost killed me. I can’t go through that again.
“Macie and I will go find some coffee,” Reid says, possibly needing his own space to deal with this.
Cole stands. “I’ll call Holden and see where he’s at.”
They disappear out the door, and I cling to Laynie as tight as I can for a few minutes before pulling away, holding her face in my hands.
“Thank you for coming,” I squeeze out at the time she says, “I came as soon as I could.” My lips wobble as she pulls my face closer, my forehead resting on hers.
A knock sounds at the door.
Straightening, I hold onto Laynie’s hand as nurses come in with Mum on a bed, completely knocked out.
“She still needs rest, but she should be awake soon. You’re welcome to wait here and the doctor will be in shortly,” the male nurse directs the information to Dad, who nods quickly.
“Thank you.”
Smiling, they leave the room.
Dad is by her side, holding Mum’s hand. Laynie squeezes mine. I sit her down in the spare chair, not wanting her to get tired on her feet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch Mum breathe unconsciously, grateful that she’s still here.
Laynie has fallen asleep in the armchair.
She looked exhausted when she came through the door, so I’m not surprised.
The doctor came through almost an hour ago diagnosing Mum with adult-onset epilepsy.
He’s given her some medications that she’ll need to be on for the rest of her life, as well as some lifestyle changes to work on.
She also can’t drive for six months as a precaution in case it happens again.
Dad was a trooper, taking notes and hanging onto the flyers the doctor passed to him as Mum nodded along. She was quiet for most of the diagnosis, but as soon as the doctor left, she burst into tears, apologising like this was somehow her fault.
It wasn’t, and we told her that, but I can tell she feels somehow guilty about this. Like if she’d had it looked at, it could have been avoided.
She’s resting now, too. Dad is reading through the information, while Cole sips on coffee. Macie and Reid are out in the hallway; I think they wanted to talk on their own.
Standing, I nod my head towards the door, telling Dad I need to step out for a bit. Reaching the hallway, I see Macie and Reid hugging each other, and for the first time, I’m actually glad that they’re together. They hold each other up.
Just like Laynie and I.
Turning on my heel, I put my hands in my pockets, striding the other way.
I hear my brother yell out, “Wait!”
Reid rushes towards me, ignoring others staring at him for being so loud. He stops in front of the door, nudging Macie inside before walking towards me. As soon as he’s within earshot, he asks, “You want to take a walk with me?”
Outside, it’s cold and dim, clouds blanketing the sky above.
The frigid air chills me to the bone. Reid walks beside me, hands in his jacket as we pace towards the car park when the ute is.
Strolling, I peer sideways at my brother, waiting for an explanation as to why he wanted to come here when he stops at a bench and sits down.
I follow suit, shivering a little from the cold.
“I’m worried about Mum.”
“Yeah, me too…” I breathe out, feeling the tenseness in my chest dissipate.
He sighs heavily, head tipping forward between his shoulders. “What if I have this too?
My head shakes. “We don’t know that.” My voice is quiet against the wind.
“I get headaches on a regular basis. What if it’s genetic?” he murmurs, as if he’s thinking aloud.
“You get migraines. That’s different, and it might not be genetic,” I say.
There’s a tug in the corner of his mouth. “But what if it’s not just migraines?” He pauses. “What if it’s worse than that? What if I end up here in twenty years’ time?”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“I know,” Reid breathes out quietly as a car passes, kicking up water in the gutter. “We just have to wait and see, which is why I needed to come out here. I couldn't be in there a minute longer.”
His fingertips press against his eyes and he lets out a frustrated exhale. My hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing it loosely as Reid shakes his head.
“Maybe there’s something they could test to find out?” I offer, trying to sound a tiny bit positive.
Reid’s chin lifts, elbows resting on his knees. “Maybe. I could ask the doctor when he comes in to check up on her.”
I nod. “They’re the best to ask.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs again. “It’s just a lot to take in, hearing that about Mum and thinking that I could have the same thing.”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I glance around briefly. “We should wait until we know before you freak out. It might not be the same thing you’re dealing with. Maybe it’s just chronic migraines like they told you years ago.”
Reid nods, eyes focused on the redbrick building opposite us before turning to face me. “You’re right. I just needed to hear someone tell me that I was overthinking.”
“That’s what brothers are for.”