Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (73 page)

“Is he still unconscious?” Bobby asked leaning against the wall, his eyes hard.

Looking over his team, everyone looked exhausted.

“He’s in and out. The doctors are giving him medicine to keep him sedated. He’ll heal faster that way.” Nancy looked down at her hands. “He’s got numerous broken bones on his left side and you know Jameson, he
won’t
stay still.”

I was starting to get dizzy again so I used the wall for support, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor and pulled my knees to my chest.

Immediately Nancy and Emma were beside me. “Are you okay?” Nancy asked. The guys walked back towards the waiting room with the rest of his team, leaving us alone outside Jameson’s room.

“Yeah
...
I just
...
I’m worried about him.”

“He’s going to be okay, Sway.” Nancy said reaching for my hand. “How are you feeling?” She asked brushing my hair out of my face.

“She puked the entire plane ride here.” Emma answered for me. “Poor Wes was a little grossed out by it all.”

“I was
so
sick when I was pregnant with Jameson.” Nancy smiled. “The first four months were spent praying to the porcelain gods.”

“See, he was an asshole even back then.” Emma added casually picking at her nail polish.

“He was a perfect baby though,” Nancy defended flicking Emma’s arm. “I did have a horrible pregnancy but he was the best baby out of all you.” Emma glared. “Always quiet and observing. Jimi actually pinched him sometimes just to make sure he was normal and would cry.” Nancy got this far away look as she remembered Jameson as baby. “The first time we took him to a race, it was at Skagit. He was maybe nine months old at the time. His eyes never left the track. He was mesmerized by the cars even then.”

I smiled, that sounded like Jameson.

The door cracked open and all three of us stood.

A short dark haired man that looked like a stubby version of George Clooney walked out. I assumed this was the doctor by the white coat.

His eyes found Nancy. “We will be taking him for surgery on Tuesday morning. I want to give him some time to rest.” He told her. “Our main concern is the pneumothorax.”

I’m pretty sure he could tell we all had no idea what that was. It sounded like a fancy name for “pain in the ass” to me.

The doctor chuckled lightly before he went on to explain what that meant. “It’s a hole in his lung.”

Why don’t they just say that in the beginning? Who was the one that thought up all these elaborate names for shit? I want to meet this person and slap them upside the head. Just because.

“Usually this is caused from a hole in the chest wall, such as a stab wound or gunshot wound that allows air to enter the pleural space. This can also be caused from both blunt trauma and penetrating injuries to the chest wall, Jameson has received both. The track safety officials indicated his belts were fastened but loose—which is why he received injuries of this nature.” Taking the folder in his hand under his arm, he continued when he looked over his notes. “After performing an MRI shortly after he arrived, we observed that his was caused from a cut to the pleura by one of his many fractured ribs. He’s awake for the moment and asking for a Sway?” His questioning eyes glanced towards Emma and I, trying to decipher which one of us was Sway.

I stepped forward when Nancy reached for me, my eyes wide but managing a wobbly smile. Stifling a gasp, tears filled my eyes as I entered his room.

There, in the middle of the room surround by various machines was Jameson. The sight was strange and an unfamiliar feeling. I’d never seen him in the hospital before.

Among various bruises and scratches over his arms and neck, his left arm was in a bandage. His hospital gown was on backwards, open in the front, showing a bandage across his ribs.

Bruises covered his stomach and chest, outlining the faint shape of his belts from the car. Even though I knew he was alive, the whooshing and beeping of the machines assured me.

My vision blurred from tears as I stared at him.

Slowly he turned his head to look the direction of the door, wincing in pain as he did so.

When his bloodshot eyes finally met mine, his gaze was bleary, dazed and completely blank for a moment.

I was beside the bed in an instant; a retarded sob broke through me as I gently touched his cheek.

Jameson’s eyes closed, his lips twitched into a small smile carefully leaned into my hand. He sighed, blinking heavily, and then those beautiful grass green eyes met mine.

“Sway,” he croaked.

I couldn’t stop another pathetic cry from escaping me as I bent my head down to his, pressing a soft kiss into his hair, my body shaking and shuddering with relief.

He struggled briefly, trying to reach for me but fell back with a moan.

“Shhh
...
stay still.” I soothed through my tears touching his cheek softly. “Please don’t move.”

“Yeah
...
good idea
...
” his voice was rough and unrecognizable, but he squeezed my hand with his right one.

His eyes shut briefly, and he grimaced before looking at me once again. “Can I get you anything?” I whispered.

“No,” he replied in this weird gravelly voice that was unlike him. He tried to turn his head again and then winced. “Fuck.”

 “I’ll call for the nurse,” I said quickly, reaching for his call button. He was either still pretty well out of it or in a huge amount of pain for him to react that way. Jameson had always been adamant he never needed help from anyone.

A few minutes later, a tall auburn haired nurse walked in his room. “Hey sweetie, you’re awake again.” She smiled at us checking his IV lines. “Jameson, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Melanie, your nurse.”

Why does she have to be gorgeous? Why?

In my head, that Pussycat Dolls song was on repeat. I could hardly focus on anything but the song at that point.

Leave it to me to be singing a song at a time like this.

I used to think it was a catchy tune
...
now I hated it. Here I was trying to concentrate on the fact that my baby’s daddy is lying in a hospital bed with tubes around him and I’m worried about the tall auburn beauty taking care of him and singing
Don’t Cha
, loudly in my head, because I feel like that’s the song she would be singing to me.

Damn you crazy irrational baby hormones, damn you.

“I think he’s in pain,” I explained, with a worried glance at his face. I then turned towards Melanie. “Can he have more pain medication?”

Keep your paws to yourself pussycat doll.

“Ah.” She patted her pockets and pulled out a syringe. She had a small scanner in her other hand, and flashed it at his wristband and then at the syringe before setting it aside. “I’ve got the good stuff.” Melanie smiled and injected the contents of the syringe into his IV. “That should help sweetie. Let me know if the pain gets any worse, okay? Do you want some water, or anything else?”

He shook his head slowly, grimacing again.

“Try not to move around,” she said kindly, checking the bandages wrapped around him. “You’ve got a number of broken ribs, and I don’t imagine it’s going to feel so great for a while. Your neck will be very sore as well.”

He grunted as a response and shut his eyes.

“Thank you,” I said as she moved to the door.

And remember, paws off!
My mind screamed towards her.

“No problem.” She smiled before shutting the door behind her.

It was quiet after she left. Jameson was lying motionless in the bed with his eyes still closed. I shifted to sit in the chair thinking he’d fallen asleep when his hand lifted weakly.

“Stay?” he asked quietly.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” I assured him, bringing his fingers to my lips to kiss them.

One corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “Come here,”

“Huh?” I asked, confused.

“Up here,” he repeated, puckering his lips in an adorable way.

It was such a Jameson thing to say, and the relief I felt was immense. “You sure?”

He started to nod, winced, and instead whispered, “Yes.”

I leaned over gently, pressing my lips to his.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, his tongue swiping along his lower lip. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,”

He blinked his eyes opened, smiled at me, and then closed them again. His right hand slid along the sheets, looking for mine. I took it, my chest tightened in happiness and relief that he was showing signs of being all right.

 “Are you
...
okay?” he whispered eventually, frowning.

“Yes,” I assured him. I bit my lip looking at his face. “Jameson
...
do you remember anything?”

His frown deepened. “Not really, I remember the race
...
I think.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching again. “I won.”

I tried to return his smile, but suddenly I was sobbing, clutching his hand, my entire body shaking with the force of my cries. I had no control over my emotions—they were now controlled by the baby.

I was so happy to see him, awake and aware, and it weakened the tight hold I’d been maintaining on my mangled composure. I couldn’t lose him, not now, not ever. Burying my face in the bed sheets, I eventually became aware of his hand slowly stroking my head.

“You’re
...
scaring me.” I realized he was struggling to sit up, and it snapped me out of my emotional shit storm. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t,” I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “Stop, Jameson. Hold still. I’m sorry, I’m just so glad you’re okay.” I held my breath as tears threatened again, but I struggled until I had some semblance of control. “I was just worried about you.”

He was fighting the dopiness from the pain meds, but the concern showed plainly in his eyes.

I managed a smile, and he relaxed, not taking his eyes from my face. I could tell it was costing him. “You should sleep,” I whispered, touching my fingers to his cheek. I stroked down his arm, bare under the hospital gown. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

His eyes held mine, but drooped sleepily. “Will you
...
tell me,
please
?”

“Tell you?” I frowned. “Tell you what?”

What would I have to tell him? Well, I have something to tell him but was now really the time?

“Are you pregnant?” His voice was soft but I heard every word.

I bit my lip. He was tired but lucid, and I knew what he was asking.

Searching his gaze, I knew I would be honest with him as I had always been. “Yes,” I whispered immediately gauging his reaction.

His lips twitched into a half smile nodding carefully, his eyes blinking as sleep began to overtake him.