Page 58 of Pucking Curves

Nash plants his hands on my shoulders like he’s trying to keep me upright.

For a minute, all I can do is stare at the man in front of me, my mind a roar of sound. I want to fall to my knees and cry. She’s awake. Thank God. She’s awake.

“How bad is it, Doc?” Micah asks when I can’t find the words. My tongue feels cloven to the roof of my mouth.

“She’s got some cuts and bruises,” he says. “Surprisingly, nothing’s broken. Our main concern right now is the concussion. Because she was unconscious for over an hour, there are some concerns.”

Micah chokes beside me again.

The doctor’s gaze flickers around the waiting room. “You all play a professional sport. I’m sure you’re aware of the risks here. We want to keep her for a few days to make sure there aren’t any signs of major problems.”

I jerk my chin in a nod, trying to hold it together. Being unconscious that long with a concussion is never a good sign. Memory loss, seizures, and swelling on the brain are major immediate concerns, along with lingering headaches and vision problems, personality changes, brain fog… The goddamn list is endless. It’s been drilled into our heads since we were kids, picking up a stick for the first time. But it was supposed to be us at risk, not Wren. Never Wren.

“C-Can we see her?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“She can have visitors one at a time.” The doctor meets my gaze again. “She woke up asking for you, Mr. Graves. She hasn’t stopped yet. That’s a good sign.”

Micah glances at me, surprise flickering in his eyes. If it bothers him that she’s asking for me and not for him, he doesn’t say anything, though.

“If you’re ready, I’ll take you back,” the doctor says.

“Yeah. Shit, yeah,” I mutter, taking a step toward him.

“Tell her…” Micah clears his throat, looking at me, his brown eyes full of remorse behind his glasses. “Fuck, tell her that I love her, and I’m sorry.”

I jerk my chin in a nod as I follow behind the doctor on wooden legs, my heart pounding like a damn drum against my ribcage. Nurses cast furtive glances in my direction as we pass by the station in the center of the emergency room, but no one says anything to me. Or if they do, I don’t hear them.

“She’s in here,” the doctor murmurs, pausing in front of a trauma room. “I’ll give you two a few minutes, and then we need to get her upstairs to a room.”

“Thank you.”

He pats me on the back and then strides away.

I stand there for a minute, trying to breathe, before I step through the door. My fucking knees shake when I see her in the bed, wires running all over the place. The gash on her forehead is hidden behind a bandage.

She’s so damn pale and tiny in that bed.

“Wren,” I rasp, crossing to her on shaking legs.

Her eyes flutter open before she focuses on me. I’m not sure what to expect, but as soon as she sees me, tears well in her eyes.

I’m at her side in two steps, my heart in my throat. “Don’t cry, baby,” I whisper, kneeling beside the bed. “Please, don’t cry. I’m right here. Everything is okay.”

“T-They w-wouldn’t let me see you,” she whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Do you remember what happened, baby?”

She hesitates for a brief moment and then nods uncertainly. “I think so? I mean, I don’t remember exactly. I walked away because I was mad, and then I heard you and Micah shouting my name.” She grimaces. “And t-then, I saw an SUV coming toward me. I woke up here. T-they said the SUV hit me.”

“Yeah, baby girl. The prick hit you.” My voice cracks and I have to swallow hard. Had he been going any faster… I can’t even think about it without feeling like my soul is being ripped from my body.

If the motherfucker hadn’t been in handcuffs by the time they loaded her in the ambulance, I’m not sure anything would have stopped me from tearing him apart. Thank God Jordan and Logan were there. While we were focused on Wren, they were dragging him from his car. He went to jail with a broken nose and a black eye. It’s less than he deserves.

“You were mad as hell at me and Micah,” I whisper. “It’s our fault.”

“Don’t, Archer.” She reaches for my hand, grimacing. “Please don’t do that. Micah already d-did it once and look at all the damage it caused. Don’t do the s-same thing now. You weren’t the one who hit me. And you didn’t force me to w-walk around in the middle of the driveway, either. It w-wasn’t your fault.”

I press my forehead to her hand, groaning. “I’m never going to get the image out of my head, Wren. Christ, I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

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