Page 90 of Lose to Win: Lost Trilogy: Part 3
“Come with me,” he says with no other explanation, taking me by the hand and dragging me behind him. I start jogging to keep up with his longer legs.
“Is everything okay?” I don’t think I can handle more drama. Not today. Not ever.
“It was Wyatt,” Puck explains, and my heartbeats increase at hearing my brother’s name. “Dylan is waking up.”
“Oh my god,” I gasp out loud. “That is amazing news!”
We rush through the hallways until we make it to the intensive care unit where Dylan is currently located. My eyes scan the place, expecting to see Becca. I am both excited and nervous to talk to her, tell her about the baby, laugh about the fact that we are both pregnant at the same time.
“Hey, dude,” Wyatt greets Puck. He then pulls me into a warm hug, pressing my head tightly against his chest. “You gotta be smarter than this, girl,” he squeezes tighter, his tense arms betraying the nerves. “I can’t say I had a sister who died when I just met said sister.”
“Wyatt,” I sob and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry.”
He lets me cry until I don’t have any more tears left in me.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I point toward where Dylan is lying on a hospital bed, looking like he is asleep now. “I’m happy he’s on the right track.”
“Yeah, they just took the tubes out. He gave them hell,” Wyatt laughs. “Fucker is still stronger than most people I know, even after four days in a coma.”
“Is Becca here?” I look around but don’t see her anywhere.
“Just left,” Wyatt informs me. “Ma took her home to take a shower and whatnot. She was exhausted. I hope Ma gets her to eat a bit, too. This was too much stress on her and the baby.”
My hands go to my own baby. Sounds like we’ve both been through hell and back in the last few days.
“I thought you said he was awake.” I am so grateful when Puck takes the focus off me. “He doesn’t look awake to me.”
“He is just tired now,” Wyatt explains. “He freaked out when they pulled the breathing tubes out, then he started pulling at everything. They had to knock him out again.”
“That’s normal for a patient to feel like that when they don’t remember how they got in that position to begin with,” I explain, trying to remember all that I learned in nursing school. My experience with patients in a coma is zero, and I don’t know if I’d be able to survive working in ICU.
“Yeah, that’s what they said,” Wyatt nods at me in approval. “So hopefully he’ll be up for longer sometime tomorrow.”
Footsteps echo in the quiet hospital, and when I turn to look, I see my father heading our way.
“Dad,” I take off in a run and jump into his arms. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”
“You’re fine, Em,” he pats me on the back. “You’ll always be fine for as long as I have a say in it.”
“Will they come after me?” I whisper into his ear, referring to the police.
“Not in the slightest,” he smirks.
As if on cue, the radio of an EMS worker goes off, making me jump.
“Ambulance needed in the area of Rutherford, two miles from the old mill factory,” the lifeless voice says. “Two bodies,” it continues. “Both deceased. Murder, suicide. Initial ID shows two males, aged thirty and aged sixty-two years of age. Name initials are SP and KLA three.”
There is more information being given, but the EMS worker drops his cup of water in a trash can, then, with a heavy sigh, he calls for his partner to get ready for the pick up of the bodies.
I let go of my dad and just stare into his face.
“Is it…”
He knows exactly what I’m asking.
“Yes.”
No other explanation is necessary, and he is done talking about it when he looks over my head and starts asking questions about Dylan’s current condition.
