Page 126 of Kane's Awakening
Cries sounded from inside—but happier that time instead of the horrible ones I’d heard earlier.
“Don’t worry, Princess,” Michael said in his gravelly voice. “It’s just one more scar to add to the others.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but apparently Gabriel did because he cried again.
Needing to step away from them, I left to find the coffee machine. After I filled the Styrofoam cup with coffee, I took a sip and winced as it burned my tongue. I grabbed my phone again and dialed Anna’s number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey, Anna banana.”
I told her what all I knew, having to force myself not to break down again as I told her about Kane’s injuries. She asked if I’d seen him yet, and I told her no.
“How’re the kids? Is Theo mad I left?”
“He’s not mad at all,” Anna said with thick emotion in her voice. “He placed second, and I took tons of pictures for you. He was so excited. But then afterward, when he realized you weren’t there, I said you had to leave.”
“What did he say?’
“He wanted to know why, of course, so all I told him was Kane was in an accident.” She sighed, and I thought I heard her sniffle. “We’re home now, but if you want us there, let me know, Rye.”
“Momma, I wanna talk to Daddy,” Theo said in the background.
I turned my face away from the phone to cough and clear my throat so I wouldn’t sound so awful while talking to him. No sense in making him worry.
After talking to my son—who begged me over and over to let him come to the hospital so he could see Kane—I sat in a chair near the coffee machine and tried to hold myself together.
***
The next day, and I still hadn’t seen Kane. That night had been the worst of my life, not knowing if he was okay. The doctors and nurses hadn’t said much. I hadn’t slept or eaten. I’d just sat, and when I couldn’t sit anymore, I paced.
And I prayed… for the first time since I was five, before my dad had beaten all the faith in God out of me. I prayed that Kane would be okay. That he’d stay strong and be the fighter I knew he was.
Everything seemed pointless without him. Without the promise of seeing that silly smile again or hear his raspy laugh.
When the nurse approached me and Kane’s parents, I couldn’t stand fast enough.
“Any news?” I asked, desperate and on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
Tracy grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“He’s stable,” the nurse answered, giving us a reassuring smile. “He’s in a room and hasn’t woken up yet, but he should soon. You can see him, but I suggest not crowding him.”
I nearly collapsed with relief. But I let his parents go in first, even though it killed me to not rush in there to his side.
I paced in the hallway as I waited, hating the white walls and chill in the air. And the smell. It was one I’d always associate with grief and worry.
When the door to his room finally opened, my heart slammed against my ribcage.
“Go in there and see him, sweetie,” Tracy said with red, puffy eyes, but with the sadness there was also relief.
Before I walked in, I turned back to her and Scott. “How bad?”
I didn’t specify, but I had to know what to expect, so I could be prepared. If he looked bad—with numerous tubes sticking out of him and him laying lifeless in that bed—I was going to break down.
They understood exactly what I’d meant.
“He slips in and out of consciousness,” Scott answered, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “They have him on pain meds and some other fluids that kinda keep him out of it. He opened his eyes some, though, and we were able to talk to him a little before he went to sleep. He’s weak, but alive.”
