Page 4 of Savage Heart

My shoulders sag in relief. “Thank God.”

We sit, and Dad brings me a cup of coffee.

“I’m glad you called your brother, Maverick,” he says. He squeezes Grady’s shoulder. “And I’m glad you picked up.”

How many times have we been told not to drink and drive? I can’t believe Lincoln and Iris did tonight. I’m going to chew the fuck out of both of them.

We all startle when there’s a code blue called over the PA system.

“Do you think—” I ask.

“No, don’t worry,” Dad says. “They were okay.”

I lean back again, but then I stand up and start pacing. I don’t like this. I need to see what’s going on. I walk over to the reception desk where Mrs. Fowler is sitting. She’s worked at this desk for as long as I can remember and seen us through broken bones, high fevers, and whatever else landed us in Ironwood Hospital. It’s strangely comforting to see her here now.

“Hi, Mrs. Fowler. I was wondering if you could give me an update on how Lincoln and Iris are doing?”

She glances up at me while continuing to type on her keyboard. “Hello, Maverick.”

Her expression gives nothing away, and for once, I wish she were one of the busybodies in town who overshares.

“Was that alarm for one of them?” I ask, panic rising.

“We should have an update soon,” she says. “Someone will be out to let you all know what’s going on.” She smiles gently, and I want to punch a wall.

“It’s not good,” I tell my family when I walk back. “It’s not good. She knows something, but she’s not saying.”

My dad stands and puts his hands on my arms. “I’ll go see what I can find out,” he says.

He says something to Mrs. Fowler and walks right past her. From the way she stands up and walks after him, saying, “Hatcher! Mr. Harrington!” I don’t think he was supposed to go back there.

“Oh, Hatcher,” Mom says under her breath. She moves to stand by me, putting her arm around my waist. “Let’s not panic until we hear from the doctor, okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

Friends from school start piling into the waiting room, and it becomes so noisy, Mrs. Fowler tells everyone to keep it down. The sound of crying ratchets up the tension, until I feel like I might explode.

I wish they’d just let me go back there and let me see for myself that they’re okay.

My dad walks out maybe ten minutes later. He looks like a different man. My heart races.

His eyes find mine, and there are tears running down his face.

Mom starts crying next to me.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, over and over.

I look at her, confused, and then back at Dad. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his expression. My dad is a large man, well over six foot, but all of a sudden he looks small.

He moves in front of me and grips my shoulder. “Maverick . . . Iris is going to be okay, but . . .” His face crumples. I’ve never been so scared in all my life. His head bows, and he blows out a long breath. “But . . . Lincoln didn’t make it.” His eyes meet mine then, bleak. “I’m so sorry, Son.”

It takes Grady and Dad to hold me up. Hearing those words hit me like a sucker punch.

The crying intensifies around me as everyone realizes what’s happened.

“How could this happen?” Mom says through her tears. “Was he driving?”

Dad shakes his head and wipes his face. “No, Iris was driving.”