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Chapter 66
Sander and I are silent on the way upstairs. Keaton’s room is on the third floor, and I feel relieved when I see she isn’t in the ICU wing.
As we approach the nurse's station, a woman dressed in scrubs walks around the desk and approaches us.
“Hey,” she greets Sander with a warm, relaxed smile.
“Hey, Mari.” Sander turns to the nurse and stops in front of her.
“Wells and Banks leave?” she asks, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her scrubs.
“Yeah, not much more they can do at the moment,” he says, and her mouth pulls to the side in an apologetic smile.
“Are you stepping back in?” she asks, glancing at me curiously.
“Actually, I’m just taking him back,” the nurse shifts her attention to me as Sander gestures towards me.
“Are you family?” she asks. I open my mouth to tell her I’m not, but Sander answers first.
“Yeah, he’s her boyfriend. Just got back into town.”
The statement shocks me, until I realize he must think Keaton and I are still dating.
She nods, before telling Sander to let her know if we need anything, and then he’s leading the way down the hall. He stops suddenly outside a closed door and turns to face me.
“I don’t know how much you were told, but just a heads up, she looks bad. Regina has been with her all day,” he says, and I try to prepare myself mentally for what I’m about to see.
Sander turns the door handle and slowly pushes it open, just enough to poke his head inside.
He says something I can't make out before stepping back and gesturing for me to go inside. I take a deep, wavering breath and step into the room.
This entire moment seems surreal. Panic sets in as I step into the sterile environment. Machines hum in the background, and a low, constant beeping fills the air. The room is dim, lit only by a single overhead light in the corner of the room.
Regina rises from her seat beside Keaton’s bed and shuffles toward me. Her red-rimmed eyes fill with tears, and she pulls me down into a crushing embrace.
“Oh, Bodhi,” she cries, her hiccupping sobs shaking my chest.
I hold her close on instinct, trying to comfort her, but my eyes are glued to the motionless form on the bed behind us.
Keaton.
Bruises cover her face from her forehead to her jaw. Her lip is split and swollen, and a large scrape covers most of her right cheekbone. Her eye is swollen shut, mottled with black and purple bruises.
She’s surrounded by all these beeping machines. Tubes and wires connect them all to her body. Some monitor her heart. Some monitor her brain. An IV filled with undecipherable fluid and a breathing tube taped over her mouth.
Regina releases me and steps back, wiping under her eyes with a tissue, sniffling as she tries to compose herself.
My eyes travel the length of her body, landing on the cast that covers most of her hand and forearm. As if she knows exactly where my gaze has settled, Regina speaks.
“She fractured her wrist. The doctor thinks it's from bracing her hands against the steering wheel when she landed.
Landed.
I’m afraid to ask what that means.
“She’s so lucky it wasn’t worse,” I hear her say just before my hearing fades away to a high-pitched ringing. Sweat breaks out across my brow, and I can’t catch my breath.
Flashes of that day in the hospital two years ago play through my mind. Walking in and seeing my brother’s lifeless body lying there on the hospital bed. The room smells so similar to his.
