Page 79 of The Love Comeback
There’s that question again. “Yes,” I lie for the second time this morning, hoping my face doesn’t betray me.
He studies me for a moment too long. “I’ll need to see some ID, ma’am. We have strict protocols for the trauma unit, especially for high-profile patients.”
My heart sinks. Of course they’d be careful with someone like Kade—a professional athlete whose injury was broadcast on live television.
I fumble in my purse for my driver’s license, already knowing it won’t be enough.
“I’m sorry, but your last name doesn’t match the patient’s,” he says after examining it. “I can’t let you through without proper authorization.”
“Please,” I say, my voice cracking. “I need to see him. I needto know he’s okay.”
“I understand, but rules are rules.” His tone is sympathetic but unyielding.
My entire body feels like it might shatter from the tension, from the need to see Kade’s face, to touch his hand, to make sure he’s still breathing.
“Ella?”
I turn at the sound of a familiar voice, and relief washes over me in a dizzying wave. Nate stands a few feet away, looking exhausted but composed in rumpled clothes that still somehow manage to look professional.
“Nate,” I breathe, stumbling toward him. “They won’t let me see him.”
His eyes—so like Kade’s, it makes my chest ache—soften as they meet mine. “She’s with me,” he tells the nurse. “I’ll take full responsibility.”
The nurse hesitates, then nods reluctantly. “Sign her in, please.”
As Nate scribbles on a clipboard, I try to collect myself, pushing my hair back from my face and wiping at eyes I hadn’t realized were wet.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask quietly.
“I didn’t,” he admits, handing the clipboard back to the nurse. “I was just coming back from getting coffee. Good timing, I guess.”
He gestures for me to follow him down the corridor, and I fall into step beside him, trying to match his measured pace when all I want to do is run.
“How is he?” The question comes out more vulnerable than I intended.
“Stable,” Nate replies, his voice low. “Moderate concussion, but the CT scan was clear—no bleeding or fractures. They’re keeping him for observation. He’s been in and out of consciousness.”
“Has he been awake at all? Has he said anything?”
Something flickers across Nate’s face—something I can’t quite read. “Yes, he was awake for a little while earlier. He was asking about you.”
My steps falter. “He was?”
Nate nods. “He wanted to know if you had come to see him. If you had tried to go with him in the ambulance.”
“I did,” I whisper. “They wouldn’t let me.”
“I told him that.”
We walk in silence for a moment, the only sounds being our footsteps and the distant beeping of medical equipment. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows that make everything feel slightly unreal, like I’m moving through a dream.
We stop outside a door marked 412.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Nate says, squeezing my shoulder gently.
With that, he turns and walks back down the hallway, leaving me standing by myself outside of Kade’s door.
I stare at the handle, my fingers trembling as I reach for it. So many possibilities lie on the other side—so many hopes and fears and unspoken words. For a moment, I’m paralyzed by the weight of it all.
