Page 107 of All I Have Left

EVIE

Iwake up in a clouded haze, knowing this might be how I wake up every morning from now on. I have no idea the time, what day it is, or what’s going on. There’s brief moments when I do open my eyes that I stare at the wall, blinking slowly, trying to recall where I am.

And then it hits me in the next breath, my blinding reality.

Grayson.

He’s my first thought, myonlyone. Is he okay? Did he make it through the night?

I sit up in a rush, gasping, my hand over my heart, wishing this was all a dream. Sunday flashes in my head. The lake, the drive, inside his truck, and then the brutal image of the bat connecting with Grayson’s head.

Tears flood my eyes, that all too familiar lump in my throat surfacing. Looking around the room, I notice I’m hooked up to an IV still, a thick white blanket over my body. Frankie steps in front of me, her face blotchy and red, her hair knotted up on top of her head and a loose white T-shirt hanging off her shoulder. “Evie, you should lay down.” Soft hands reach for my shoulders, urging me back. “Don’t sit up so quickly.”

Not because I want to, but because my body needs it, I allow her to lay me down.

She stares at me, crying silently, her ring catching my eyes. Her day, her time to be excited about her upcoming wedding is no longer the focus, and it should be. It fucking should be but Shane took that from them, too.

I swallow, or try to. My throat’s scratchy and raw. “Where’s Grayson? Have you heard anything?”

Her eyes cloud, flutter, tears dripping from her lashes. “He just got out of surgery about an hour ago but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“And?” I try to sit up again, but she stops me, her hands on sore shoulders. “Is he okay? What did they say how the surgery went?”

Frankie pauses, her eyes darting around the room. She squeezes my hand. “I talked to a couple of the nurses that I know from school. I’m not going to say it’s good and reassure you he’s going to be okay, because I don’t know, Evie. I just… I don’t know. They haven’t even listed his condition yet. I’ll tell you what I tell all the families when this kind of injury comes into the ER, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

“Frankie!” I gasp. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry. You need to calm down, okay?”

“I can’t. What are they doing to him? Can’t you find out anything? Don’t you know other nurses where he is?”

“They’re not going to give me any information because they know I’m his sister. All I know is that he was a working code when they brought him in.”

“And that means?”

“They were doing CPR.”

“What kind of things would you guys do if this happened?”

“We’re not a trauma center. We don’t see patients like him. That’s why he was air lifted here. It’s the only trauma center in the area.”

“Frankie, just… walk me through whatwouldhappen.”

She blows out a breath, knowing what I need. “Okay. I can only assume after he was brought in they would have had a team waiting. Usually for a Life Flight everything is called in and ready for when the patient arrives. They would have got him stable. Since his heart stopped, they would have had to get a pulse back, then quickly do imaging. CT scans, chest X-rays, they probably looked for internal bleeding and then went from there.” She pauses, seeing my breathing slowing and knowing that this is finally giving me some peace. “They would have given him pain medication, anti-seizure medication, and paralytics so he didn’t fight the ventilator, which would have increased his intracranial pressures even more. They don’t want them exerting themselves at all. And then they would have done surgery. After all that, they’ll ease him off medication enough to check for brain function and then sedate him to let him heal.”

My heart beats faster, in my throat, down to my toes. It’s painful, restricting, and I can’t even draw in a breath to calm it. Honestly, I’m not sure I care about anything but that. I just want his heart beating and the painful reminder that the last time I saw him, it wasn’t.

Frankie notices my anxiety and hands me a plastic cup with a straw. “Drink some water.”

The door opens, a nurse entering. Vaguely familiar, she smiles. “Evie, honey, it’s good to see you awake.”

I grip the edges of the blanket, my eyes darting to my hands when I realize how sore they are. They’re black and blue. I think about her words. They flash in my head.

Good to see you awake.

“How long have I been out?” I ask, looking to Frankie.

“It’s Monday afternoon.”

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