Fighting to Stay (Fighting Madly Book 2) (24 page)

I rev my bike. The loud exhaust drowns out everything around me, the cars, the thoughts, and the sounds. The test was taken and there it was saying we are having a baby. And more tests tucked in the pocket of my jacket. Our baby is stuck inside her fucking stomach. But she needed more tests, she needs another confirmation. And I do, too. If she’s right, if the tests don’t do false shit… Then we are going to have a little kid, screaming in nine months. Shit, I need to wife her, ASAP.

My mind wonders as images of her belly growing with our baby flashes and won’t break away from my mind. I turn in the curve of the road as I maneuver around it and an incoming car swerves into my lane. The sun reflects off my mirror to my line of sight, rendering me blind for a moment too long. I smash on my rear brake and the back tire slides around.

Abruptly, my stomach feels like a rock.

The screeching rings through my head when my tires grind against the pavement as they lock up. I jerk the bars, frantically trying to correct it, but nothing helps. I lose all control and the bike dives to the ground, flinging me over the bars. I raise my arms on instinct, and when I crash, the crack of bones reverberates in my ears. The friction of bike metal dragging along pavement sends sparks up, and my body skates against the road. With each inch I slide, my skin rips beneath me.

My body slams into something, and I come to a grinding halt. A buzzing noise sounds in my head when I stand, and my legs quake with the urge to fall over. I glance around, hearing a voice off in the distance, and a body comes into view, but my eyes close on their own. The adrenaline coursing through my veins dries up as the burn on my skin eats me alive.

I hear more muffled words, but I can’t place where they are coming from. The immense pain scorches through me, bringing me to my knees. I stare up at the sun, trying to keep my eyes open, but it’s too much for my body, for my mind to handle or comprehend. And those images of my girl, the one I fucking love more than life, takes over my view.

I would give anything in this split second to tell Hadley one more time that I love her, one more time to tell her that I would spend that money for the wedding in a heartbeat just to see her smile at me again as if I’m the best thing in her life. One chance to tell her that I can’t wait to see her carry our child, to see my child grow.

But when the excruciating pain spreads deeper, eating my insides out, I’m not sure I’ll get those chances ever again.

Three empty water bottles sit in front of me on the table. I cross my legs, trying to relieve some discomfort from my bladder that is filled to the brim. If Reed doesn’t get his butt back here soon, I’m going to have to break down and just go or risk bladder combustion. The sound of a car door slamming wakes a sleeping Loki and Lucy and sends them straight to the door to investigate. Reed took his bike, I know he did. At least I thought he did.

I rise from my seat, but nothing’s right, everything’s out of order. It’s like my heart is trying to tell my brain to remember this exact moment in time only I don’t know why, only I don’t understand it. A knot ties in my belly when I lay eyes on Matt through the window. He stands there, looking up at my front door, unmoving. His shirt buttons are uneven and his hair is a complete mess.

I hold Loki by the collar as I open the door. “Hey. You had a late night last night?”

I don’t get graced with one smile from him as he runs his hands through his hair. “Hadley.” Something’s wrong. His usual upbeat demeanor is off. His voice sounds bleak, dead serious.

A sudden coldness like ice chills me to the core.
This is
what I’m supposed to remember. “What is it, Matt?”

“Why don’t you get your shoes and purse? I’ve got to take you somewhere.”

My back hits the door for support. “No, Matt, you tell me now.”

“Hadley, please go get your shoes on.”

I drop my hold on Loki, my head swims with dizziness, and a wave of nausea hits me. Something’s definitely wrong; it’s screaming at me that something’s not right. “No, no, no. Where are we going?”

Matt takes my hand, leads me down to the couch and rushes around the house. He comes in, his arms loaded down with my shoes, purse, and Reed’s old sweatshirt. But all I can think about is something is wrong, something desperately wrong.

He drops everything next to me and bends down, about to slip my shoes on, but I pull my legs out of his hold.

“It’s Reed, isn’t it?” Deep down, I know it is. I can sense it. I can feel it.

He looks up, his face laced with compassion I didn’t know Matt had in him. “It is, Hadley. They transported him to your old hospital. James called me when he saw who it was.”

I want the details, I want to know what’s happening, but my lips stay sealed. Denial does that because, God, I know if they brought Reed there, he had to be a level one trauma patient, and that is as bad as it gets. But if he was dead, if he was dying, I would know. Our connection is that deep.

Or at least I thought it was.

It’s all a blurry mess. I don’t know how we got to the hospital, or what time it is, or what day it is, or if I ever went to the bathroom.

I’m in a daze.

Not so long ago, the test read that our family was growing. That maybe we could ease into the next stage of our lives. But like so many times before, that next stage is up in the air and there is no easing in sight. All I can picture is Reed’s horrific screams as the nurses clean out all the gravel and other debris from his road rashes, and my mind drowns in scenarios that I saw all too often with bike accidents—the shattered bones, the head injuries, or internal bleeding. He could be dealing with them all, and I’m out here useless to help him. James, one of the top trauma surgeons possible, is caring for Reed now, but that doesn’t help because if he dies… No that’s not happening. Positive it won’t, because we didn’t get this far together to only be torn away in a tragic end.

I pace the waiting room floors, my shoes squeaking on the tile as I move back and forth. Old co-workers come up to me to offer a sense of comfort, but I don’t spare them any time. My time is needed in praying for Reed. My heart, the knot, the tension, the worry, all leave me utterly exhausted, but I trudge on. Lance, Matt, Mark, Laura, and my father fill the chairs on one side of the room, lost in their own conversations, but I don’t want to be near them, either.

I fall into a chair, away from my loved ones. I fiddle with my rings, twisting them around my finger repeatedly. They are a symbol that we will one day become one, something I’ve known since the first time we kissed. It wasn’t always easy but we came around. I wanted to wait, to plan the perfect day, under the perfect circumstances, but that’s pointless. A wedding is one single day. It doesn’t stand for the value or strength of the marriage itself.

My head drops and my hair cascades over my shoulders, giving me a wall of sorts away from everyone else. I silently pray and pray and bargain with the man upstairs, promising him that if he lets Reed be okay, if he lets him live, I’ll marry Reed anywhere, anytime he wants. I’m hit with a surge of anger. Not at Reed, or at my family, or any other person, but at myself. I’m furious because there isn’t a damn thing I can do here.
Nothing
. All I can do is watch the clock on the wall tick away with no words. The waiting and powerlessness eats away at me.

There’s
nothing
I can do to help him.

A familiar arm slides across my back, pulling me close. I lay my head on his shoulder and relish my dad’s comforting hold, able to breathe a little easier as I relax and my eyelids grow heavy.

James jostles me awake. He offers no words. No one speaks the
right
things as James draws me to my feet and leads me through the doors to one of the rooms. My mind dims around me when I stand in front of one of the seven rooms used for situations like this that can cause an uproar from family members in the waiting room. I squeeze my eyes shut and halt my steps right outside the door, knowing that if I go any farther, if I cross over the threshold, Reed’s life—and possibly our baby’s future—will not be the same once I leave this room. We won’t be the same when I turn back around.

Mark offers his strong presence when he stands beside me, reaches down for my hand, and gives it a light squeeze, but it’s just what I need to gather the courage to face what’s next. I inhale deeply and my heart thuds behind my breastbone as I take that first step. My family filters in behind me, chairs screeching on the floor as they get situated, but I can’t get comfortable. How can they sit so damn composed? I rock on the balls of my feet, fix my eyes on the cracked picture on the wall, and wait, bide my time for the answers that are coming.

James clears his throat a couple of times. His shoulders are tense and his jaw is set. This is what I hate, what I don’t want. But I focus on James now, he knows how Reed is. He knows what pain Reed is in.

Laura hands James a manila folder and my battered heart jerks up into my throat. It’s Reed’s will, the things he set up if something goes terribly wrong.
This
is wrong, because he’s strong, healthy, and young. If I can turn back time and wait till Monday I would. He shouldn’t have been on that bike in the first place. I should have kept him home and waited until Monday. Waited just forty-eight hours, but no, I had no patience, and I felt entitled to the truth.

James flips through the folder then lays it on the table, the mess of papers scattered about. “Hadley, you need to know you are only here because I know you. And I thought it was better to tell you in here than out in the busy waiting room. Reed is damn lucky to be alive. He has major road rash over the right side of his body, some spots so deep, it’s down to the muscle. He will need some skin grafts. But we won’t know the extent of that for a day or two. His right ankle is broken, but that was a clean break and it should heal with just a cast. I had to call the orthopedic surgeon to deal with his arm, though. Hadley, Reed’s elbow and shoulder were shattered. They had to put some plates and rods in to stabilize them. I just left the operating room as they were stitching him up, so he should be in recovery soon.

“Will he be okay?” my dad asks.

“He has a long road to recovery.”

“But he’ll be okay?”

Broken bones. Metal rods to set his bones. Unforeseen muscle damage. It repeats over and over in my head.

“Barring infection, he should be fine. But I can’t give you a time frame on when he will be going home.”

“What about after he heals, will he be able to fight?” Lance asks.

“I’m not sure. No promises on anything at this point. We will have to wait and see.”

But I know. Even if he’s okay physically, Reed’s body will never be strong enough to fight at the level he was at, never be capable of moving at the speed he needs in order to compete. He’s lost his ability to twist, to turn through the holds, and to throw a punch with the finesse needed behind it.

His career is finished, the one thing besides me that he loves, that he needs. Gone.

I want to be there, right next to him when he wakes up, he will need it. “When can I see him?”

“In about an hour. Hadley, can I speak with you in private?”

The rest of the group stays back as James and I step into the hallway. “He had a test in his pocket when he came in.”

My eyes fill with tears.

“Do you want me to do it here for you?”

“I took one earlier and it was positive and I wanted another one just to…” I choke on my words. “H-he was on his way to get it.”

“Hads, this isn’t your fault.”

Even though James claims it’s not my fault, it is. I’m the one who had to have the answer—again. “James, I should have…”

He shakes his head and offers me a light touch on my elbow. “Let me get you a test and then we’ll go from there.”

I stare at Reed while sitting in the chair by his bed, the same damn chair that my bottom hasn’t left for three straight days. He is finally asleep from another round of drugs coursing through his body. When he’s awake, each time he opens his eyes to talk, he grits his teeth, cursing in pain. Words fly out of his mouth that would make him blush on a good day. His blood pressure is too high, his road rash is starting to heal which causes him to itch all over.

Reed’s in hell.

That face of his, the face I love to get lost in, is the only part of his body that doesn’t have anything physically wrong with it, and I wonder what is going through that handsome head of his. He hasn’t mentioned the baby once since he woke up from surgery, not one reminder of why he got in the accident in the first place. But the baby—our baby—sits in my stomach protected by all this. For now.

The door to Reed’s room opens and Matt comes in. He sits in a chair and relaxes opposite me on the other side of the bed. “What words did he come up with today?”

“Fucking cock sucking shitter bitch ass was said a couple times.”

“He’s losing his originality.”

“That he is.”

“Are we going to play this small-talk thing?”

“You’re the one who brought up small-talk things. I was just going with it.”

“He knocked you up.”

I don’t confirm, but I don’t deny, either, because Matt doesn’t need it. He somehow knows.

“I went to the house to get you clothes and the test was there. In the open for all to see.”

I brush a speck of something off my jeans. Still not talking.

“How far along, Hadley?”

“I was going to wait on the ultrasound so Reed could see, but I couldn’t after this stress. I had to do it this morning. I’m only four weeks. Apparently the pills didn’t work.”

“Everything good?”

“As of right now.”

“If I told you to go home, it would be a waste of words?”

“Yep.”

“Go get something to eat then—and it’s not a question. If fucktard here isn’t going to watch out for you, I will. Go.”

My stomach growls on cue. “I’ll go down to the cafeteria. Please call me if the doctors come. We were waiting on some of the nerve test results. And Matt, if he wakes up, don’t be a dick.”

“I’m hurt. I may be an ass, but I wouldn’t kick him when he’s already down.”

I take Reed’s hand and place a kiss on it before I lay it right back at his side.

I slide my tray across the cafeteria bar, mindlessly picking food as I move. I hand over my money without words spoken and move to the outside courtyard.

The sun is too bright, not a single cloud in the sky. Spring is here and soon summer.

But what will a new season hold for Reed?

For us?

Fate is a fickle thing. When things are on a perfect straight course, it sends you spinning. And it makes you slam on the brakes with all your force and you get stuck doing a U-turn into a pile of mess.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“Needed to make sure the sun was still in the sky.” I glance up and soak in the vitamin D.

“Word on the street is you’re knocked up.”

“Matt has a big mouth.”

“Well, as your brother, I thought I should know.”

“Or dad.”

“Are you always going to think that?”

“Who knows?”

“But seriously, are you okay?” We have grown leaps and bounds now that he’s concerned about my well-being.

“As well as can be expected. Reed won’t talk about anything, and I have the urge to vomit more times than not, but other than that, it could be worse.”

“You got yourself checked?”

“Yep, this morning.”

“That’s good.”

I pick at my food but never actually put it in my mouth, never chew any of it. But Mark stays right next to me. Because my thoughts of this baby and where Reed will be does its own sort of chewing.