The ATF agents who had showed up behind them were standing around the information desk, looking concerned and bored at the same time.
The Babylonians who showed up wanted news.
Family, friends, and neighbors alike were all worried aboutDrew, but I couldn’t tell any of them apart because my eyes were still on those fucking swinging doors.
Waiting.
My eyes were still crowded with tears.
Waiting.
My heart still full of hopelessness.
Waiting.
All I could do was wait.
I was waiting for anything.
News.
Information.
Pain.
Torture.
The end of the world as I knew it.
I wouldn’t let anyone touch me.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t have comfort because I knew it would only allow me to fall apart, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to put myself back together if I let go of that tentative hold I had right now.
The only beacon of hope I had was focusing on those doors, and any news about Drew that would eventually come through them. I’d almost lost myself to the pain when Tate and Rubin finally sat on either side of me, each picking up a hand and holding the same silent vigil I was holding.
I breathed through the pulsing, painful emotions enough to find my breath encouraged by the strength they loaned me, but almost lost my shit all over again when Autumn took the seat behind me and stroked my hair in that loving maternal way of hers that promised comfort I didn’t deserve. There were so many people offering me love and support, and I only wanted the arms of one person.
Drew.
MyDrew.
The man who always got up.
The man who had all the answers.
The only man I had ever really loved in my life.
The man that every single person in this room with me loved as fervently as I did. Did he even know how much love existed in this worldforhim?
As if I knew what was about to happen, I looked up a second before the doctor stepped through the doors that Drew had disappeared through. The whole waiting room shifted in that direction, the clatter of chairs and a rolling murmur moved through every last one of the people occupying the space. It had to have been hours since we’d arrived, and not a soul outside of those of us waiting for news on Drew was in that room. The mood was too volatile.
“Mrs. Tucker?” the doctor asked, stopping about four feet away, trying his best not to stare at the crowd that had gathered behind me.
I rose to my feet and felt Tate’s hand steady me as I rocked on my heels and tried my best to find the strength in my legs. I nodded, not even attempting to correct him.
“I’m Doctor Atwood,” he said, pausing again and glancing behind me. He motioned me forward, and I stepped to him. Lowering his voice, he continued quietly. “We had to take Drew into emergency surgery to stop the bleeding. He’s still in critical condition, and he may need more surgeries before the night is over, but his father, who was also admitted, suggested that your husband would do better with you in the recovery room with him.”