Page 47 of Every Single Wildflower
She turns on her heels, her steps quick as she successfully escapes whatever the fuck is happening between us. I watch her go, letting the feeling sink in that it may already be too late.
Chapter thirty-four
Maddox
Eight years ago
The bright lights of the ambulance flash against the dark backdrop of the night sky. I numbly step out of the ambulance, my clothes bloody, but it’s not my own.
“Let's get him to the OR.” The paramedic behind me shifts me to the side so they can wheel out my father, who’s unconscious on the gurney.
“Maddox, I need you to go with Steven. He will get you checked out.” The paramedic carefully touches my arm, but I jerk away. “I’m fine. I’m going with him.”
“He’s in one of the best hospitals in the area. We got him.” He motions to a nurse for a wheelchair as we enter the sliding glass doors. “Take him.”
I watch the double doors at the end of the hall close behind the group of medical professionals that huddled around him the second we walked in. The ER may be quiet tonight, but inside, my world is chaos. My heart is racing, my brain foggy, and my boots soaked in a crimson stain.
“Sir. Would you like to call someone?” A woman with black rimmed glasses asks as she holds a clipboard to her chest.
Mindlessly, I walk away from the nurse who’s supposed to be giving me my check over, and pull out my phone. The screen is cracked from the impact of my right leg against the door frame when we rolled along the asphalt.
I drop down into a cushioned chair, my head resting on my bloody palm as I dial my mother’s number. She answers on the second ring, and I choke out the words that I already know will change our lives forever.
“Mom. There’s been an accident.”
My knee bounces, my gaze holding firm on the piece of shiny linoleum beneath my feet. Mom sits to my right, her arm looped around mine as she silently cries. Laiken sits on the other, her hands clasped tightly together as we wait for the surgeon to come out with the news that will determine if I will be fatherless or not.
“I’m so sorry.” Pain sears through my chest when I say the words.
Mom grips my forearm with a quiet sob as she mindlessly caresses my arm.
All I remember is dad’s booming voice. His frustrated words as I tried to tell him to slow down.
“Mrs. Sheppard?” The man in a pair of blue scrubs removes the mask from his face, his eyes regretful of what he’s about to deliver.
“I’m Millie Sheppard.” My mom stands, wiping the tears from her eyes. “How is he?” Laiken and I both push to our feet, her hand gripping mine as we wait.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “We did everything we could. The damage to his brain was too intense. We couldn’t stop the bleeding.”
The sob that breaks from my mother has my heart splitting straight down the middle. Laiken’s knees almost buckle, but I catch her just as the sliding glass doors open. Brady rushes in, his boots leaving a trail of mud behind him as he sprints across the waiting room.
“What happened?” He gasps.
Mom faces him, her voice raw. “He’s gone.” She clutches her chest. “Your father is gone.”
Brady’s expression morphs into denial. “No.” He looks to me. “What happened? You were supposed to pick him up!”
My throat closes up. “I did.”
Tears pool in his eyes as he steps up to me. “You did?” He shouts. “Then where the fuck is he, Maddox?” He shouts.
The surgeon raises his hands. “Sir, I’m sorry for your loss.” He addresses Brady. “The initial impact was severe. The oxygen to his brain was cut off almost automatically. He didn’t suffer.”
Brady brings his hands up to rest on the back of his head. Tears raining down his angry face. Dad was his idol. His person. The only one of us who really understood him. Brady had always been the kid who required the most attention, and dad had a way of handling him like we never could.
“He didn’t suffer?” He scoffs. “He’s fucking dead!” He bellows.
Mom’s cries grow louder as Laiken wraps her arms around her, trying to soak up her pain.
