Doctor Atwood swung a hand out to the doors in an invitation for me to walk with him, and selfishly, I didn’t so much as glance back at the men behind me as I started walking.
My only need at that moment was to get to Drew.
He was alive.
I took my first real breath in hours and caught up with him.
I listened to the doctor talk as we walked through the hospital with quick steps, his words not really sinking in as he threw around medical terms I couldn’t understand. I caught a few important things. Drew had swelling around his brain, which could be a concussion. The knife that had gone through his side would have punctured his lung had it not been for his rib, which now had a fracture from the blade. He had four broken ribs, an orbital fracture, in which they had immediately realigned at the sphenozygomatic suture line, and they were watching his blood work to make sure there was no internal bleeding. Aside from that mouthful of medical terms, I did pick up some extra key points that I’d needed to hear.
Drew was in critical condition.
He’d won a single battle for now but was still amidst the war of recovery.
Lastly, I needed to be prepared for what I was about to be faced with.
I was very glad about that last warning.
Walking into the hospital room and seeing all of the wires and tubes connected to Drew’s body almost broke me. He looked frail, lost amidst a sea of gray and white plastic, while small lights flashed on monitors and machines beeped, not allowing for silence. I stumbled inside with my hand on my mouth—my tears filling my eyes again as I sank down into the chair next to his bed and just stared at him.
“I’ll send in a nurse with some scrubs for you to change into, and something to eat. Your father-in-law also said you were pregnant.”
I nodded. Not really paying that much attention to what he was saying now. Being this close to Drew, seeing his breath forcing his chest to rise and fall helped, I could finally see with my own two eyes he really was alive.
“Doctor?” I asked suddenly, my voice hoarse and broken.
“Yes, Mrs. Tucker?”
“Can I…” I stopped and took a deep breath as my voice cracked. “Can I touch him?”
Doctor Atwood paused at the door, a kind but sad smile passing over his lips. “You can eventually, but first I’ll send in a nurse with a change of clothes for you, and some toiletries. You’re still covered in his blood, and your husband is in a delicate state. He can’t afford an infection.”
I looked down at my hands and studied the long-dried dark blood that coated my fingertips and forearms. I nodded in agreement. When I looked up again, the doctor was gone, and I was finally alone with Drew and a room full of machines that were keeping him alive.
A shower was a good idea before I touched him, I decided.
Leaning in closer, I whispered to him, hoping to God that he could hear me.
“You better come back to me, Drew Tucker.”