Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Jonas

"Is he going to make it?" My friend Eric's voice was crackly on my phone. Nasty early December weather meant horrible cell reception. He was asking what everyone wanted to know, yet no one had the answers.

"Hold on." I paced farther down the chilly hospital corridor, away from Declan's ICU cubicle and Sean's hearing. Eric was a seasoned paramedic and undoubtedly knew what my pause really meant. Likewise, I understood he was asking my opinion more than wanting a regurgitated version of what the medical team had told our friend Sean, Declan's father. "Doctors are saying the usual about head injuries being unpredictable and tricky. Between us, though, it's pretty bad."

Bad was a wild understatement for our last three days, starting with the moment Sean received a phone call that Declan had been injured at a motocross event near Salt Lake City. And every update since then had been worse than the previous. "Declan sprung a major subdural bleeder last night, so the on-call neurosurgeon had to go in to fix it."

Eric sucked in a breath. Brain surgery was never anything minor, and bleeding was the one complication of traumatic brain injuries that everyone dreaded. Brain bleeds were associated with lower survival rates and more loss of function, something all of us in the first responder field knew all too well.

"He's still sedated for rest after that surgery, I bet." There was a clinking noise like Eric was stirring something. Like me, he tended to put his excess restless energy into cleaning or cooking when home.

"Yeah." I paced the length of the hallway, my own nerves jangling. Eric and I were best friends and didn't look the most alike, but people occasionally mistook us for brothers because of our similar mannerisms. "Now it's a waiting game."

"What's the EEG showing after the brain surgery to relieve the bleeding?" Eric's voice was crisp, the sort he used on a call. Focusing on medical jargon, chart data, procedures, percents, and so on was so much easier than admitting our other friend, Sean, might lose his son. I flexed my hands as acid gathered in my already sour stomach.

"Latest reports show some brain activity, so there's hope Declan can pull through this TBI, but of course, there's no telling what limitations he may face if— when —he wakes up." Testing could only tell us so much. As a longtime emergency room nurse, I'd seen more than my share of head injuries, and each one was its own unique beast with a hard-to-predict outcome. I'd seen lesser injuries than Declan's yield permanent comas, while injuries that at first appeared far more severe resulted in a patient who was up and demanding food by this point.

"And how are his other injuries?" Eric sounded distracted now, like one of his teens had come into the kitchen, and indeed, a tinny voice sounded in the distance.

"Couple of cracked ribs. Bruised spleen. Pray that doesn't rupture because he doesn't need another emergency surgery." Sensing our conversation might be cut short, I spoke fast. "Broken right ankle and tibia. A likely sprained wrist, but the main thing is the head injury."

"Yeah." Eric went silent for a moment before mumbling something to whomever else was in the room. "Okay, I sent Wren off to wash up before dinner. They've been reading up on head injury protocols."

"I'm not surprised." I was too tired to laugh, but Eric's younger teen was nothing if not predictable.

"Jesus. I hate this for Sean." Eric made a pained noise. "For the whole Murphy family, really. If it wasn't for the weather, the whole clan would undoubtedly be there."

"That's why I'm sticking around longer." I'd initially driven Sean and his boyfriend, Denver, straight to the airport in Portland. But weather in Salt Lake, as well as a few other West Coast hubs, had grounded flights, and there were no seats to be had. Desperate, Sean had proposed driving, and there was no way I'd let Sean and Denver make the trek alone. I'd only met Declan, who was in his early twenties, a handful of times, and I would have made the offer for any friend, but I was still struggling to explain, even to myself, how compelled I felt to be here.

The drive from Portland could be as short as thirteen hours, but it'd taken us eighteen straight through, changing drivers every so often in increasingly windy and wintery weather.

"Not only are road conditions terrible for the drive back, I don't want to leave Sean and Denver to deal with any hard decisions on their own. Weather should improve in the next few days, and after Sean's folks and ex arrive, I'll feel better about leaving them."

"Stay as long as you need. We're fine here." Eric's voice was firm, which was a relief. Ever since his late husband had died, I'd lived in his basement to help out with his four teens. This trip was the longest I'd been away since the funeral, and my guts had been twisted for days with worry over Eric and the house. "Oz is doing great with Rowan and John walking him. The kids miss you, but everyone's fine. Tony and Caleb are pitching in, and Maren will be here for winter break as soon as her finals are done."

"Good." I swallowed hard. The stark conditions at the hospital made me miss home and my dog that much more. Being back in Utah had me on edge the second we crossed the state line. I felt strangely fragile, like I'd forgotten to pack a coat or like some protective layer of skin had been stripped away. "I feel guilty?—"

"Don't. Sean and Denver need you more. You made the right call to go. Now, take care of yourself too."

"Thanks."

I wasn't sure how much more compassion I could bear, so I breathed easier as Eric wrapped up the call in short order. I wasn't the one with the injured kid, nor was I the one recovering from the loss of a spouse. I didn't need caretaking. That was my role in our friendship circle.

After ending the call, I returned to the ICU waiting area, where Denver had used an empty chair to stretch his long legs out in front of him. His eyes were shut, but he opened them as soon as I neared.

"How's Eric?" he asked, voice rough like he'd been dozing. Not surprising, considering none of us had had much sleep.

"Okay. Things are running well at the house, apparently." Something in my tone must have revealed my ambivalence because Denver gave a sage nod.

"Which is good, even if you do like to think you're indispensable."

"I don't…" I exhaled hard because Denver was one of those people with the uncanny ability to make lying impossible. His brown eyes always seemed to know the truth. "Okay, maybe I do like to be useful, but I'm glad Eric is managing the household with some help from Tony and Caleb."

"I'm glad you're here." Denver wasn't the sort to be overly emotional, so the gruff compliment was high praise. "Wish one of us could make Sean eat and rest."

I'd found a hotel room within walking distance of the medical complex, but so far, only Denver and I had taken turns power-napping and grabbing showers there. Sean had passed the point of running on fumes days ago and was heading toward a breakdown, not that he wanted to hear that. And not that anything would get him to move even a few inches from Declan's bedside.

I, however, had tons of experience with stubborn family members of patients. "Let me try."

"Hey, buddy," I said softly to Sean as I stepped into Declan's area, which was more spacious and private than an ER cubicle but more visible to nursing staff than a typical hospital room. The ICU had a policy of allowing only one visitor per patient at a time, but the nursing staff hadn't objected to Denver or me checking in on Sean. In fact, the nurse I'd spoken with most recently had welcomed our concern because the staff had noticed how rundown Sean was getting. His eyes were bleary and red, his skin blotchy, and he had days' worth of reddish-white beard bristle. "How are you holding up?"

"His numbers are staying steady. He's breathing on his own." Sean gestured at the bed where Declan was hooked up to an impressive assortment of wires and monitors. I took the opportunity to look over Declan's vitals for myself. What was left of Declan's hair was darker than his father's, more auburn than bright red. The last time I'd seen him, it had been artfully styled. He wouldn't be happy with the present state of affairs. The rest of him hadn't fared much better with various casts and splints. Something about his vulnerability made my breath catch as Sean continued his rundown of Declan's improvements. "And the EEG is promising. That's a good sign."

"They're all great signs." I crouched next to Sean's hard plastic chair. "But I asked about you, not the patient."

"I'm fine." Sean waved away my concern with a frustrated noise.

"You are not." I could be stern when I wanted to, and I added a harsh look. "By my count, you're on hour seventy-two or more with no real sleep. And you've eaten about enough to keep a fly alive."

"I don't want to leave Declan." Sean's voice cracked. "I don't want him to wake up alone and confused. What if he can't find a call button? Or panics? The nursing staff is overburdened as it is…"

"Here's what we're going to do." I adopted the same tone I used when running a code or handing out assignments to the nursing staff at work, with no room for argument. "I'm going to stay right here next to him, cell phone out. You're going to go down to the cafeteria and eat something hot and substantial."

"Maybe." Sean's jaw continued to have a stubborn tilt.

"And then I pulled a favor with the nurses to find you an empty bed in the nearby wing the hospital is remodeling. You'll be steps away. Not even as far as the hotel room. You trust me to call you immediately, right?"

"Few people I trust more." Sean's eyes turned soft and watery, and I patted his shoulder.

"Good." I gave him a hand up out of the chair. "Now, I'm not asking, I'm telling. You need to do this so you can be there for Declan when he wakes up."

"You're right. I'm kind of a mess." Sean scrubbed at his short hair and stubbly jaw.

"You are, but it's completely understandable." I squeezed his shoulder again, massaging lightly. "However, you have to take the same advice you'd give others in this situation."

"Yeah." Sean's lower lip wobbled. "Fuck. I really am falling apart."

"You are not." I steered him toward the door before he could protest more. "You're being incredibly strong. But even strong people need food and rest. Now go. Denver's waiting."

"Are the racing folks still here?" Sean asked with a frown.

"Not at the hospital, but weather delayed the tour from pushing out." I didn't know the usual protocol when a rider was injured, but for the first day or so, the waiting area had been filled with racing folks. The numbers had dwindled as the hours stretched into days. "I'm sure the mechanic guy and others will check in before they leave town."

"Good. I'm kind of glad they're not here, messed up as that sounds. The bigger the vigil, the more it felt like he wouldn't make it. And God, I need him to make it, Jonas."

"I know." I wrapped him in a tight hug. "He's getting the best care possible to give him the greatest odds. Trust."

"And pray. Might stop by the chapel on the way to food."

"You do that." I shooed him out of the room. I'd stopped talking to God a long time ago, but if it helped Sean, I was all for it.

"Going, going. But talk to Declan?" Halfway out the door, Sean gazed at me with big eyes. "They say that's helpful for brain injuries."

"I will," I promised. I settled into the chair Sean had vacated, pulling it closer to the bed so I could speak in low tones to Declan.

"Hey, Declan." I'd talked to comatose patients before, but this time was particularly hard for reasons I didn't entirely understand. "I know you don't really know me, but I'm a friend of your dad's. He loves you so much." I had to stop to look at the far wall, the monitors, anything to keep my voice steady. "You're lucky to have such a big family. They're all pulling for you."

No way could I keep up the family talk. Not here in Utah where old wounds I'd thought long scabbed over had reopened, raw and painful. The Murphy family was the opposite of the Jensens, and dwelling on those differences hurt.

"You keep resting. I'm going back to my book." I pulled out my phone, opening the e-book of the mystery I'd been reading during all the waiting. "Maybe you'd like to follow along? This series has some funny beats."

And so I started reading softly to Declan, doing voices the way I had when reading to Eric's kids or my younger siblings back in the day. I supposed I could have flipped on an audiobook, but reading was something active I could do.

Please wake up. I wasn't the praying type, not anymore, but I could still offer that plea to the universe, hoping Declan came back to us, and soon.