Page 56 of A Match Made In Evan
He nods. “Thanks Miranda.”
Then we’re finally leaving the clinic and we feel like an entirely different group than the one that filtered in earlier. Mia is carefree and laughing, James is smiling, and I…am about to get hit by a car.
Well, I think in the split second before the collision, shoving Mia and James back onto the footpath behind me, before the squeal of tyres and sudden searing pain has a chance to register,I didn’t have this on my bingo card for today.
Chapter Nineteen
James
“He’s still in surgery,” Ev’s mum, Janet, tells me as she takes the stiff plastic seat at my side. “Dennis has gone to get us some coffee. The good stuff, if he can find it. Not the swill they pedal in the machines here.”
I just nod, still feeling numb from the shock of the accident. I don’t know how Ev saw that car come flying around the corner, but he saved me and Mia without a thought for himself.
If I’d thought seeing Mia distraught over possibly being pregnant was hard, watching her scream and weep over Ev’s unconscious form was ten times worse.
I’d take a hundred yesterdays over today.
Even worse than that, though, was not being able to ride in the ambulance with him, because only one of us could have goneand I couldn’t leave Mia behind. It was getting to the hospital after a white-knuckled, whirlwind of a drive, only to be told that I’m not listed as his next of kin. His parents are.
No amount of telling them that I’m his spouse made any difference.
Mia and I just had to sit and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It was agonising.
Janet and Dennis turned up an hour or so later. They were taken away to talk to doctors, and when they returned, we all got taken into a more secluded waiting room for families of emergency patients.
And we’ve been waiting ever since. I’ve lost track of the hours now, and I can’t bring myself to pull out my phone to check the time. Not when my lock screen has a photo of me, Ev, and Mia taken at her leadership camp. The camp that changed my life. Changed both our lives.
Mia’s asleep next to me, her head cushioned on my shoulder, a tiny trickle of drool creating a wet spot. She’ll be mortified when she wakes up. Ev would tease her mercilessly for it.
My heart pangs again.
Then I remember that Janet said something and I blink, giving my head a minute shake, careful not to wake Mia. “Sorry, what?”
“He’s still in surgery, but they don’t think the knock to the head has caused any damage there,” she tells me, twisting her hands in her lap. “Just…something to do with his, um, his spleen and something about his ribs? I couldn’t follow it all. Just that they were more concerned with where the bull bar impacted him than when he hit his head when he landed, but” —she chokes on a sob, bringing a trembling, age-spotting hand to her mouth— “th-they’re watching for swelling and bleeding just in case.”
I want to hug her, my second mother, whose house I spent just as much time in as my own during my childhood, but I can’t move. Not just because of Mia, either, but because I’m paralysed by fear.
I think back to Thursday night, to him telling me that I’m his person, that he would raise a hypothetical baby with me, and my terror that the stress of doing so would tear us apart. Now I’m afraid that I’ll lose him anyway, and I want to go back in time and shake myself for not responding differently. Not telling him how much I appreciated the thought he had put in to our potential future. Not thanking him for loving and caring for my daughter as much as I do. For loving me so much that he would settle down so completely like that.
I don’t realise I’m crying until Janet’s hand cups my cheek, her thumb swiping away my tears. “Oh, James,” she sniffles, “I know.”
Suddenly, I can’t stand the fact that she doesn’t really know. Yes, she knows I love Ev as my best friend. She might even think that I love him like a brother…but that thought sours my gut, making me feel ill.
It’s the furthest from brotherly love that we can get at this point.
At the same time, I can’t possibly out her son to her. I’m sure Ev would understand if I told his parents, he’d want me to be able to lean on them while he fights for his life in surgery, but…I just can’t do it.
And thenmymother is walking through the door, followed by Ev’s dad, Dennis, and my own. It makes sense that Jan or Dennis would have called them. Our families have always been close, and if I look at Ev’s parents as my surrogate family, I know he sees mine the same way.
My parents are a decade younger than Ev’s, seeing as he was Jan’s miracle baby, arriving when she and Dennis were in theirearly forties, but right now their worry makes them look just as old as their friends. It shouldn’t comfort me to see them so upset, but on some strange level it does. They adore Ev as much as I do. I’m not alone in my worry and grief.
“Mum,” I suddenly feel like a lost kid instead of an adult in his mid-thirties. I want to be wrapped in her arms and told that everything’s going to be okay.
