Chapter Thirty-Five
I pick up on the third ring. My voice is gruff and heavy with sleep. “Hello?”
Briefly, the other line doesn’t make a sound. A sound like papers being shifted fills the background. “Hello, is this Gavin D. Petrov?”
“Who is this, and why are you asking?”
“Hi, I’m calling from Saint Francis Trauma Center. You are listed as an emergency contact.”
“An emergency contact? I’m sorry… but for whom?”
I’m met with a moment of silence, then I hear the faint sound of typing on a keyboard. “We have a patient who has been admitted into our care. No identification was on her at the time, but you are listed as ICE in the patient’s phone.”
“Can you give me any more information?”
“Female mid-twenties, we are currently classifying her as Jane Doe.”
My mind starts racing. ICE? In case of emergency? No ID…. Jane Doe… mid-twenties…Juni. “What is her condition, and what happened?” I ask, shooting up in bed.
“I cannot disclose much information at this time, without consent, but she was brought in about forty-five minutes ago by ambulance. I will disclose that she was a trauma alert when found.”
“A trauma alert? Is she awake enough to give you consent to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“No, she is currently unconscious.” The weight of this conversation is slamming into me like an eighteen-wheeler. They can’t identify her, and she’s very injured, and they are calling ME.
“I’m on my way.”
Jumping up, I run to my closet and grab my favorite Under Armor joggers, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a hoodie.
I grab a second hoodie just in case. My mind is trying to decide whether to take the truck or my bike.
I decide on the bike. It’s the middle of the night, so I can ride as fast as I need to get there.
I don’t give the bike time to warm up; I don’t have the time for that right now.
I’m peeling out of my driveway before the garage door is even closed, hoping I hit the closer hard enough; I don’t look back.
Once I find out what the fuck is going on, I’ll call my mom and have her take care of Charlie for me.
I’m riding recklessly like I have a death wish, but I don’t give a fuck, I need to get to her; I need to see her. I need to confirm with my own two eyes that she is alive. My mind is racing. When the fuck did he come home… did I literally drop her off to her demise?
Pulling into the parking lot, I shut the bike off and coast into the first post I see.
Once the kickstand is placed down, I’m jumping off the bike.
Right now, I could give a fuck less if it falls; I have crash bars for a reason.
I take off into a full-on sprint across the hospital parking lot, pushing myself to move as fast as possible and slowing down as I come to the entrance.
Sliding glass doors open as I get closer.
Still breathing hard, I walk up to the receptionist. The woman doesn’t take her eyes off the screen.
“How can I help you?” she asks as she continues typing and snapping the gum in her mouth.
“I was called here in regard to your Jane Doe. I’m listed as an emergency contact.”
“Your name, please?”
“Gavin D. Petrov,” I respond gruffly.
“And you said you were listed as an emergency contact, sir?”
“Yes, according to your records…since someone here called me?”
“And what are your relations to the patient?” Uhhh…“Husband, brother… cousin?”
“I’m not her husband.”
“I need something legally compliant, sir.”
“I’m the only one she trusted enough to put on the list, that’s all you need to know,” I say, glaring.
Taking her eyes off the computer for the first time since I fucking walked up to this desk. She nods, a knowing look crossing her face briefly before it passes. “She is in Trauma room #7. The Dr wants to speak with you first. Go through those double doors, please.”
I’m not able to see her right away; the sinking feeling in my stomach is getting worse as I sit in this cold-ass tiny room.
Memories I don’t want to remember start swarming.
The last time I was in a room like this, my whole fucking life exploded.
A sharp knock on the door pulls me from my swarming thoughts.
“Hello, Mr. Petrov, I’m Dr. Rodriguez. The trauma attending.
” I just nod my head as he sits down. Not able to talk, so I just make eye contact.
My stomach feels like it’s my throat. “I am going to ask you to give a description of her before we move on to discussing the patient’s information. ”
“Her name is Juniper Lilith Monroe, born June 6th, 1999. She is 5’1 with dark brown hair and hazel-green eyes.”
Typing away on his computer, a look crosses his face that I can’t decipher. “Okay, yes, that matches Jane Doe’s description.” My heart is beating so fast, I’m waiting for it to burst out of my chest.
“I was told she came in as a trauma alert? Can you explain her condition to me?”
“She suffered Blunt Force Trauma, primarily from the waist up. She has bilateral periorbital ecchymosis and a severe concussion with loss of consciousness. At this time, we did not see any bleeding on the brain; we will continue to monitor over the next twenty-four hours. Once we pass that time frame, she will need to have orthopedic surgery. X-rays indicate that her left wrist was recently healed but has now been rebroken, and that her hand has a crush injury. She has two broken ribs with a significant amount of bruising around her abdomen.”
“Will she wake up?”
“Yes, she will, but for now, we are keeping her sedated and on oxygen for her body to heal. She does have a brain injury and was combative. That is normal for this to happen, just so you are aware.”
“Will she live?”
“She is stable right now, and that needs to be our primary focus. It was touch-and-go there in the beginning.”
“Please, can you take me to her?” I ask him pleadingly.
“Yes, but sir, I do need to warn you to prepare yourself for what you are about to see.”
Stepping out of the small consultation room, we walk to Trauma Room 7. “Whenever you are ready, Mr. Petrov.”
Nodding my head, I make my way into her room.
The smell of the antiseptic is making me nauseous.
So many memories I don’t want to remember, but I’m pushing my shit aside for her.
My breath catches in my throat as my eyes land on Juni.
She looks childlike as she lies there still.
A machine helps her breathe. Watching the machine push air into her lungs as her chest rises and falls is disheartening, but a relief all at the same time. It looks so unnatural.
Walking to her bedside, I take a seat in the chair that was placed next to her.
My eyes scan her poor face. I’m overcome with so much emotion; I feel the tears start to drip down my cheeks before I register that I’m crying again because this nightmare has become a reality.
“Hey Любовь…, I’m here, okay? They called me, and I got here as fast as I could,” I say, my voice full of emotion.
Taking her uninjured hand, my thumb starts brushing hers in soft, calming caresses. “Can you hear me, Juni? You are not alone, okay? You never will be again. We are going to get through this together, I fucking promise you.”
And most importantly. I’m going to brutally kill this motherfucker for almost taking you away from me.
I’ve warned him; now he’s fucking done. “Ты делаешь меня... таким чертовски слабым” ‘you make me so fucking weak.’ I whisper softly.
“Тебе нужен отдых, любовь моя, но, пожалуйста, вернись ко мне... Пожалуйста. Возвращайся домой.” ‘You need your rest love, but please come back to me…. Please. Come home.’ “I’ve got you. ”
Shuttering as my emotions break free, I softly whisper, “I love you, Juni.” Her small hand jumps in mine, ever so slightly, I could have missed it. I think she knows I’m here. “He’s never going to touch you. Again, Juni, I can promise you that.”
Stepping out into the hallway, I decide it’s time to make some phone calls. Brenden picks up on the second ring. “What the fuck, Gavin, it’s five o’clock in the morning, what’s going on?”
I think I hear Peyton groaning in the background, which is perfect, killing two birds with one stone. “Is Peyton with you?”
“Yeah, why? Gavin, what’s wrong?”
Taking a deep breath, I start to stutter slightly… “I am at Saint Francis Trauma… with Juni, wake up Peyton so I can explain it to both of you.”
“Hey, Sweet Cheeks, wake up. Something is wrong… It’s Gavin on the phone.”
I hear her dramatically groan again before I hear her voice come over the phone. “What’s going on, Gavin? You're on speaker.” Panic floods her voice.
Emotion clogs my voice, but I do manage to talk. “So… I am at Saint Francis Trauma with Juni…”
Peyton’s voice is cutting me off. “Juni? What do you mean, Juni? What did that mother fucker do?!” Anger suddenly takes over her voice. She starts falling apart.
“It’s bad, and I need you both to get here as soon as you can. She’s technically stable, but she is being closely monitored.”
“We are on our way. We will be there as fast as we can.”
I hear them talking in the background, Brenden telling her they will take his car because it's faster. But I also know she's distraught, and he is worried. “We are leaving now, Twinkles. We will be there as soon as we can.”
Ending that phone call, I dial the next. On the second ring, she answers. “Hello… Gavin? Are you okay?”
“Hey, Mama, yes. I’m okay. A friend of mine had an emergency, and I’m at Saint Francis.”
“Бренден в порядке?” ‘Is Brenden okay?’
“Yes, it’s not him. But can you do me a favor… and get Charlie settled for the day? I left in a hurry. And it’s been a few hours since I got here.”
“Да, я разберусь с Брюсом. Я люблю тебя, мой мальчик.” ‘Yes, I'll deal with Charlie. I love you, my boy’
“Я тоже тебя люблю, мама.” ‘I love you too, mama’
Hanging up, I make my way back into Juni’s room.
She hasn’t moved. The machine is still forcing air through her lungs.
I hate seeing it look like it hurts. But I’m thankful she is here.
Settling myself into the chair, I take her right hand, softly caressing it.
Resting my head next to her on the bed, taking a deep breath.
My phone vibrating in my pocket wakes me up.
I slightly dozed off while I rested my head next to Juni.
Pulling my phone out, I see it's a text from Brenden.
I close her privacy curtain before I head into the hallway.
Leaning against the wall, I start rubbing the tension in my neck as I wait.
I hear Peyton's feet smacking the tiled floor before I see them. She doesn’t stop until she all but runs into me as she slides to a stop, Brenden gripping her waist to steady her.
“Where is she? How bad is it?” her voice filled with panic, her eyes searching for Juni.
“Okay, so it’s going to be hard to see. She is suffering from Blunt Force Trauma, causing her to lose consciousness.
A severe concussion. Broken nose, bruising around both eyes.
They are continuing to test for any signs of a brain bleed, broken and bruised ribs, and additional abdominal trauma.
Her left wrist was rebroken… and her left hand was crushed.
And the worst part is that they wanted to give her time to start to heal, so she is currently on a vent.
That’s why I closed the curtain.” Peyton wraps her arms around herself tightly and starts to sob.
Her shoulders shake from the force of her cries.
“Hey, she is stable… we have to hold on to some positivity.” I wrap one arm around Peyton to comfort her, but she pushes me away and buries her head into Brenden’s chest. All three of us step into the room, slowly walking toward the bed. “Just prepare for yourself.”
Grabbing the privacy curtain, I pull it back to reveal Juni lying still, aside from the mechanical rise and fall of her chest. Peyton’s knees give out at the sight of her best friend, bruised and broken, lying motionless.
Sobs ripping out of her chest, she just keeps repeating “Juni, I’m so fucking sorry, God damn it... I am so sorry.” Brenden again does his best to comfort Peyton. This is hard for all of us.
We sat quietly discussing what's going to happen after she is healthy enough to get out of the hospital.
We all agreed to take what Juni absolutely needs from the trailer, but we will replace the toiletries and clothes.
Making sure the plans we have now are in place.
The most important question lingers in the air.
What are we going to do about Reece? It comes out of all of our mouths at the same time… “Reece needs to die.”