Page 38 of Hit the Ground
“No! Get away from me! Please, I have to go. Let me go.”
My whole body went cold. Every instinct honed from years of working cattle and raising my boy told me exactly what that scream was—pure terror.
I spun in the direction the sound came from. A nurse rushed past me toward one of the private rooms, a phone at her ear, her words sharp with urgency.
“She’s waking up disoriented—watch her IV—someone get Dr. Tennison—Alice, the patient in room twelve—”
Alice?
It couldn’t be. Not my Alice. She’d been fine when we parted ways yesterday. On her way to her—
Date.
The next scream shredded through me. It was her. I knew it. No idea how. Just did.
I hurried past a nurse to push into the room. Horror awaited me inside.
Alice thrashed on a bed, her hair plastered to her temples with sweat. Tears streaked her flushed cheeks. One arm cradled against her chest in a fresh cast as the other tore at the sheets.
“I have to leave. I can’t stay here. Please.” Her voice broke into a choking sob.
She didn’t see me. Didn’t see anyone. Her eyes were closed, like she wasn’t quite awake yet.
My chest ached so deep, I thought it might split open. I stepped forward, to her side.
“Alice.”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes sprang open, darting wildly toward the nurses, the monitor, the bright light above her.
“Alice.” I said her name louder, firmer, like I would to a spooked colt. “Alice, it’s Caleb. I’m here.”
I covered her clawed hand with mine.
Her frantic gaze shifted. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, but for a split second, they locked on mine. She blinked, tears spilling over, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.
“Hey, Allie,” I murmured as gently as I could. “I’m here with you now. I’ve got you. Anything you need, I’m here. I won’t leave you.”
Her lips trembled. “Caleb. Help me.”
Crumpling against her pillow, she released a keening sob and clutched the blanket like a shield. There was a bandage on her forehead, swelling in her cheek and around her eye. It killed me to see her like that.
I looked up at the nurse on her other side. “What’s going on? Help her. She’s in pain.”
The nurse adjusted her IV without looking at me. “Her doctor is on the way.”
“That’s not good enough,” I snapped. “She’s terrified. Someone needs to help her right now.”
Before the nurse could respond, the door swung open and a tall woman in scrubs stepped in. She gave Alice a quick once-over, eyes narrowing in clinical assessment.
“Alice,” she said. “I’m Dr. Tennison. You’re in the hospital. Do you know why you’re here?”
Alice’s chest shook with another sob. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
The doctor leaned over Alice, shining a small penlight into each eye. Alice flinched, whimpering.
“Easy,” the doctor soothed. “You have a mild concussion, and your wrist is broken. Do you remember what happened?”
Alice turned her head toward me, refusing to look at the doctor. I cupped the side of her face, wiping tears away, only for more to replace them.
