Page 118 of Falcon

Chapter 26

Faith

There’s only so much shitty hospital coffee you can drink before your stomach starts recoiling at the smell.

I’ve been pacing back and forth since the minute we stepped into the ER, unable to sit, unable to focus, unable to settle.

I haven’t seen Marco since he hit the mat and chaos took over.

Jesse Domonique raised his hands in victory and the crowd went wild. It took everyone entirely too long to realize Marco was still on the mat, not moving.

I tried to get to him, I really did, but the press descended upon the floor, snapping photos and shouting questions and words I didn’t even comprehend at the time.

Frank found me amongst the madness and took my hand, pulling my up the stairs toward the main entrance. I tried to stop him. I wanted to get to Marco, I needed to, but he told me we had to go because we needed to be at the hospital when the ambulance got there.

He shoved me into the back of the black SUV I arrived in, with Vincent in the driver’s seat, and an hour later, here I stand, shaking like a leaf, waiting on something, anything. I need a shred of news. A shred of an update.

“What is taking so long?” I ask out loud, to no one in particular.

Joe pats my back. “We’ll know something soon. We have to.”

“Is he okay? Is he awake? What happened? I…I’m just…I hate waiting like this with all the unknown.”

I haven’t cried yet. I’m not sure why. It’s like I’m emotionally frozen. I can’t react until I have answers, otherwise I’d be fetal right about now.

“They aren’t saying much right now, ma’am. I’m just not sure.”

“Faith, please. Call me, Faith,” I tell him, as I sink down to sit beside him.

Courtney has been pacing in the hallways, fielding a bunch of calls from the press about what happened and what his current state is. According to her, there is a media firestorm happening outside of the hospital. Apparently this has gone viral and in this day and age, that means it’s absolutely freaking everywhere.

Fucking vultures.

“I’m looking for the family of Marco Masen,” a young doctor calls from the doorway of the waiting area.

I rise from my seat so quickly; I’m shocked there isn’t a trail of smoke behind me. Joe is right on my tail and Courtney as well.

“We’re his family,” Joe says.

“I’m his…”

The doctor interrupts me, “You’re Faith, right?”

“I am.” I nod.

“I’m Dr. Ford, I’m going to be taking care of Mr. Masen tonight. He’s been asking for you since the minute he arrived.” The doctor smiles. “He said I’d know who you were immediately because you’re the knockout in blue.

I relax just a little with a smile. “So he’s okay then? If he’s making jokes, he has to be.”

“He is. He does have a concussion from the kick to his head and subsequent fall to the ground. All his vitals look great. He is alert and talking.”

“So what happened?” Joe asks.

“Well, his history of head trauma is starting to show itself in the form of migraines. It’s relatively common after a head injury to have sporadic headaches, but with repeated concussions in quick succession, that’s when we start to worry. It can cause any number of problems that I can’t even begin to cover standing right here. But, in my professional opinion, and I’ve stated it to him multiple times in the time I’ve been treating him here, he needs to consider stepping away from contact sports. He can be prescribed medication for the chronic migraines, but with the way his body is responding to the concussions, I fear that another one now or sometime down the line may be too much for him to recover from.”

I close my eyes and let all of the information sink in.

“So you mean, he could die?” Courtney asks.

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