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“Yes?” Marjorie rushes to him and brings him back. “These are our children and a family friend. Please speak freely.”
He nods curtly. “Of course. I’m Dr. Amos, and I was the attending physician when your son was brought in. He suffered soft-tissue injuries, lacerations on his face and neck.”
“Did the airbag deploy?”
“It did,” he says. “But he was hit head-on by a pickup truck. His Jaguar couldn’t compete.”
“Where’s the asshole who hit him?” Henry asks.
“Henry,” Marjorie says.
“That driver didn’t make it,” Dr. Amos says. “His airbag didn’t deploy.”
“Good on him,” Henry says.
“Henry.” His mother again.
But I can’t blame him. Someone put Dave in this position. He’s a good driver, and he loves that car.
“Our imaging studies show several broken ribs and a hairline fracture in his collarbone. Your son is young and healthy, so these will heal quickly and easily.” He flips through some documents on his clipboard. “However, the studies also show blood in the abdomen. That means he probably has internal bleeding, and that’s why he’s in surgery. We need to find and repair the damage to the organs that are affected.”
“I see.” Marjorie slides into a chair.
“What can we expect?” Bryce finally asks, his voice low and sad.
The doctor takes a deep breath. “We just don’t know yet, sir. He may also have brain trauma. He was in and out of consciousness when he was transported here.”
Oh God. Brain trauma? So even if he recovers physically, he could end up a vegetable for the rest of his life.
I would still love him anyway.
I want him back in whatever form, as long as it means he stays on this planet.
“What else do the scans show?” I ask.
“No bleeding in the brain, thank goodness. But he will probably have a concussion. He may have some amnesia. We just don’t know.”
“I don’t understand,” Marjorie says. “Why can’t you tell us more?”
“I’m not the surgeon,” he says. “I’m an ER doctor. But we have the best trauma surgeons taking care of him right now. Drs. Lucas and Montgomery. One of them will be out to speak to you as soon as they can.”
“My sister-in-law practiced here for years,” Marjorie says. “Dr. Melanie Steel.”
He nods. “Yes, I know Dr. Steel.”
“Can’t you get us any information quicker?”
“We know your family is a huge benefactor to this hospital,” he says. “But I can’t make the surgeons work faster, ma’am. I’m sorry. They will do their best, and your son is in the best hands he could be in.”
“My God…” She rises and falls against Bryce.
“We’ll do everything we can, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson.” Dr. Amos nods and walks back through the doors.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dave
I’m floating. It’s an odd sensation, like being suspended in a dream. I can see my own body lying on the operating table, still and lifeless. Doctors and nurses are huddled around, their voices muffled, their faces obscured by masks. They’re working with a sense of urgency, but I can’t make out their words.
