“Dad, how is he?” I don’t bother with formal greetings.
I hate feeling this way–scared, lost, devastated, shattered. Is there a strong enough word to describe the range of emotions I’ve felt over the past hour?
“Stable. I’m sorry it took so long, but we talked to the doctor and the police. The guy who hit him was drunk. Drunk at four in the afternoon. Can you believe it? Aiden is lucky that the back door took the brunt of the impact. We would be having a very different conversation if the driver’s door would have taken a direct hit,” Jose chokes on his last sentence, pausing briefly to get his emotions in check before continuing. “He has a broken leg, broken arm, collapsed lung, and a few broken ribs. Nothing life threatening, but he’ll need surgery on his leg. Basically, the entire left side of his body is broken.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“He’ll heal, Isaac. It will take time and when he wakes up, he probably won’t be happy about having to leave school and move home, but we think that is the best thing for him. He won’t be able to drive for a while. If he’s at home, your mother and I can take him to all his doctors’ appointments and PT when the time comes.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. My dad is right. Aiden is aliveand all his injuries will heal. In a few months, he’ll be back to his normal life. I need to be thankful.
“How is Mom?”
“She’s better now that we have some good news. But you know your mom. She can’t stand to see any of you hurt. It took seeing you in person to convince her that your ribs were only bruised. Even though visiting hours are over and he’s an adult, she refuses to leave his room. The nurses gave up arguing with her and brought a cot for her to sleep on tonight. I’m in the waiting room right now, but I think I’m going to get a hotel room for a few days, so we will have somewhere to shower and relax. Owen left the girls with a neighbor. Now that we know Aiden is going to be okay, he’s going to make the three-hour drive home after we grab some dinner.”
“Please call me tomorrow with an update or sooner if anything changes.”
“I will, Isaac. Get some sleep and let Evan take care of you. I know you’re worried but try to focus on football. You have a big game on Sunday.”
“I will,” I agree. Leave it to my dad to keep me in line from more than a thousand miles away. “I love you. Tell Mom, Owen, and Aiden I love them.”
“I love you, Son. I will pass it on to the family.”
I end the call and fall into Evan’s arms, crying until I have nothing left inside. I have no idea why it took getting good news before I sobbed, but now I can’t stop. Evan holds me, stroking my hair for a few minutes then rubbing a hand up and down my back.
“I’m glad he’s going to be okay,” Evan whispers.
“Me, too. Thank you for being here with me.”
“I’ll always be here for you. I’m going to get us some dinner. You rest.”
“Please let me help. I need to do something, or my mind is going to go to all sorts of negative places.”
Evan stands up and holds a hand out to me. He leads me to the kitchen, and we quietly prepare dinner together. It’s romantic, domestic, and intimate. It’s home, safety, and comfort. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted but didn’t know I needed.
TWENTY-SEVEN
EVAN
The front door opens and a few seconds later, Isaac pulls me into his arms. It comforts me knowing he has a key, so he can come and go as he pleases. He did the same for me. It was a big step for us, but one I’m glad we took. It’s one more brick out of my wall and one more leap away from Mike’s hold. I turn to face Isaac and give him a quick kiss before turning back to the pot on the stove.
“What are you making?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.
“Chicken noodle soup. Early November is the perfect time of year for the first pot of soup back home. I was feeling nostalgic, so I made some.”
“Sounds and smells delicious.”
“How’s Aiden?” his accident was almost a week ago and we’ve been getting daily updates. Poor Isaac is still worried. He’s like his mom in that respect. I don’t think he’ll be completely convinced until he sees Aiden.
“A little better. I talked to him this morning. The surgerywent well yesterday. He’s in a good bit of pain today, but they are managing it. Dad said if there are no complications, he will go home in three or four days. They are going to have to rent a van to get him home. The car is too small for him to stretch out in for the three-hour drive.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s improving.”
“Me, too.” Isaac gets a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walks over to the kitchen table to relax while I tend to the soup.
“Evan?” Isaac questions, concern lacing my name. “What is this?”
I glance over to where he’s standing. Embarrassment heats my face when I realize what I left on the kitchen table in full view. Then anger hits me and I drop the wooden spoon. It hits the edge of the counter then falls to the floor, splattering soup all over the front of the cabinet.