Page 136 of Sapphire Spring

And then they were gone, and that’s when Jason told him thatseveral witnesses had captured the worst parts of the incident on their cameraphones. That Chadwick Brody’s life had completely fallen apart in the daysbefore he tried to kill Naser—he’d lost his license that Tuesday, threatenedhis own mother with a gun the day before, and spun out into a spiral ofaddiction and paranoia before he’d driven to Pine Rise and stolen Mason’s cellphone so he could lure Naser to the bluffs. In other words, nobody was doubtingNaser’s story in the slightest, or that Mason had acted only to save Naser’s life.

Once he was in the hall outside again, he asked the onlyquestion he could give voice to. “Where’s Mason?”

He figured shock, or the residue of it, would carry himthrough the worst of what was to come, but when he saw PeteWorther,sitting all by himself in the surgical waiting room, hunched over, his face inhis hands like he’d been struck across the spine, Naser’s knees felt molten,and his eyes filled. The man looked up and saw the assemblage headed towardhim. Seated a chair away was the red-headed woman who had driven Mason torehab, but she looked at Naser warmly, as if they were old friends and she’dbeen waiting for him.

“He’s…uh…he’s still in surgery,” Pete managed.

Naser sank into the seat next to Pete’s.

“We will wait for him then,” Mahin said quietly and sankinto the chair next to Naser’s.

A silence settled. His mother and sister had linked handsacross the arm rest of their chairs, and this pleased him.

“He’s all I got,” Pete finally said into the tense silence,voice wavering. “I might be a mean son of a bitch, but he’s all I got.”

For the first time in Naser’s life, he could draw no comfortfrom accepting the worst-case scenario. It was one thing to accept the ideathat you might be rejected by someone you really wanted. But the death of theman you loved, the one who’d saved your life, might shatter him into a millionpieces. His mother had lost her husband. Maybe she would know how to put himback together if Mason didn’t make it.

What felt like hours later, a woman in surgical scrubs enteredthe waiting room. Everyone sat up ramrod straight.

“Are you Mason’s family?” she asked.

Pete rose to his feet and started toward her, then hestopped and looked back at Naser. “What are you doing?” Pete asked. “Step up,kid. It’s showtime.”

Stunned by the invitation to join him, Naser followed Peteand the surgeon to one side of the waiting room, doing his best to focus on thesurgeon’s stoic expression as she rattled off a dizzying litany of details.

Mason had made it through surgery.

There were no detectible spinal injuries, which was excellentnews, but they were dealing with multiple broken bones—both arms and a thighbone—and a serious head injury that had required immediate decompressionsurgery to reduce bleeding in the brain. They’d hoped to do simpleaspiration—which meant drilling a hole in Mason’s skull—but the bleeding wastoo extensive, and a craniotomy with open surgery had been required. This was avery serious and often risky procedure, and the next few hours of recoverywould be critical. They were confident they’d managed to stop the bleeding, butit would take some time to see if the surgical repairs to the blood vessels inhis brain would fully mend.

At the sound of medical terms being delivered rapidly, hismother drew near. He risked a look back at her and saw from the fixed expressionon her face how serious all these terms were, how serious Mason’s condition was.

“Can we see him?” Naser asked.

The surgeon nodded. “Two at a time. He’s in ICU recoverynow. He’s not responsive, and I wouldn’t expect him to respond soon. Some ofthat’s the anesthesia, but some of it’s the time he’s going to need to comeback.”

“But he is coming back, right?” Naser asked.

The surgeon looked him in the eye and took a breath. “Thebrain has miraculous ways of repairing itself. We’re going to do everything wecan for him. But Mason had a very bad fall, and this was a very serious intracerebralhemorrhage.”

“Soyou’re saying he needs amiracle,” Pete croaked.

“He’s had a miracle. He survived the crash. What he needsnow is excellent care, and we’re going to give it to him. And he needs peoplehe’s familiar with around him. We often hear from brain injury victims thateven if they’re not responsive they’re hearing what’s said in the room withthem.Sotwo at a time in ICU for now.”

Naser looked to his mother again. She nodded to indicate sheagreed with everything the surgeon had just said.

Then suddenly he was alone with Pete as a hospital volunteerled them deeper into the hospital, around corners and through automatic doorsbefore the lettersICUloomed over them, following a swift-movingnurse who guided them through a suite of recovery rooms where most of thecurtains were pushed back and the patients inside looked as much like machinesas they did people.

At first, it made it easier. The fact that Mason’s brokenarms were both wrapped in casts and elevated above his head, that most of hishead was bandaged, and the only visible parts of it were his sleeping eyes andhis bruised lips.

“Hey, handsome,” Naser whispered. “Well, looks like you’vemorethan made up for our past. What do you think?”

Beeps and distant chimes were the only answer.

He wanted desperately to take Mason’s hand in his, but thecasts made it impossible. So Naser pulled the closest chair next to the bed andsank down into it, threading his forearms through the bed’s guardrail until hecould rest one hand on Mason’s shoulder.

Save for a few bathroom breaks, that’s where Naser stayedfor twenty-four hours.

Pete came and went, but he never left.

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