Page 6 of Free Heart
“We can’t see him now?” I ask. There’s nothing I want more than to see Dan and press my face into his neck to smell his sweat and skin. I want desperately to hold him and squeeze his calloused hands.
“Not right now. They’ve got him resting comfortably, though. I promise.”
I try to smile at Rye to show him I have faith, but I can’t.
“I know you want to see him, but he’s not conscious at the moment anyway. They pumped him full of stuff to keep him still for the scans. The pain from his leg had him writhing once he came to fully on the flight, so they calmed him with small doses of fentanyl and Versed, and after they got him here and ensured he doesn’t have a head injury, they dosed him up good.”
“He’s not hurting?”
“Not right now.” Rye steers us toward the entrance. “While he’s resting and they’re sorting out the room situation, let’s get some food in you, alright? I bet you haven’t eaten today.”
I haven’t, but I also don’t think I can stomach anything. I let Rye guide me, though, with his arm looped through mine. Lowell walks beside us and says nothing as Rye continues tochatter. I let his words wash over me, trying to understand them, trying to soak them in.
“Now, a doctor hasn’t talked with him yet, but I can tell you what I know from what I overheard. No head injury, which is, like I said, huge. There’s a laceration on his face that’s going to need stitches, and it’ll probably leave a scar. But that’s okay, right? Guys with scars are hot.”
I manage a laugh, but all I can picture is Dan’s oddly handsome face mangled. My stomach twists.
Rye goes on. “He’s got a couple of chipped teeth, probably where he hit himself with his own left hand as he came down, believe it or not. Busted up knuckles from that impact, but no breaks in the hand. Some pretty bad contusions on his hip and buttocks, and a surprisingly mild sprained wrist. But the real doozy is his leg.”
Outside of the hospital cafeteria, Rye pulls me to a stop. “Let’s get this over with out here. Don’t want to gross out any of the people eating.”
Lowell huffs a small laugh, and Rye’s ears turn pink, but he keeps on going. “So, the leg… It’s not good, Sejin. Compound fracture of the tibia and fibula—the shin bones. It’s gruesome. I’m not gonna lie, and it’s hella complicated to fix.”
“Compound fracture…” I trail off thinking back to biology class and trying to remember if that is the bad one.
“Bone’s sticking through the skin.” Lowell makes clear.
So, the really bad one. I shudder.
Rye shoots him a wide-eyed look. “Wow, just be brutal about it.”
Lowell shrugs. “Like you’re not brutal in your own way.”
Rye’s neck begins to flush, and he looks down at the floor.
Lowell clarifies, “In the way you’re handling this, I mean. You’re just shoving him through it like it’s a series of doors andif you can get through them fast enough, he’ll come out the other side fine and dandy.”
Rye says slowly, “Are you saying I push too hard?”
“Sometimes.”
I blink. I didn’t realize they knew each other as more than acquaintances, and I feel like something else entirely is going on with them, but I don’t really care. I just want to know about Dan.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. You can put it however you want,” I insist. “Just tell me everything.”
“Right, so a compound fracture means his bone has come through the skin, like Lowell said, and it’s bad. Not just like a little poke through, not just a tip of a bone, but a huge part has come out.”
I shudder again, feeling light-headed.
“Easy now,” Lowell warns.
“Oh, easy now thatI’msaying it?”
I ignore them. “So, what will happen with his leg? Will they set it, or…what?”
“First they’ll pump him full of antibiotics,” Rye says, putting up a finger. “And then—”
Lowell explains, “Compound fractures are at severe risk of infection of the bone, especially when they occur in an outdoor setting where dirt and who knows what can get into the wound. If they don’t crush that possibility with antibiotics, he could lose the leg—”
