It’d be okay. It would be okay.
They leaned against one another as they waited.
“Concussion. She’ll need treatment and observation.” Benny looked at them. “I’ve seen worse, and they all recovered.”
A relieved sigh shuddered from Wentworth and Elliot’s chest stirred with tender butterflies.
Paramedics came and Benny helped them get Louisa into the ambulance. “Contact her closest and send them to the hospital,” Benny said.
“I—I don’t know—” Wentworth looked frantically at Elliot; Elliot nodded calmly and within five minutes he had the cell phone number for Louisa’s sister, Henrietta. Elliot dialled, and the call went straight to voicemail. He tried again five minutes later. Same result.
“She works at a vet clinic—” Elliot jerked his head up from the contact information sheet. “Honey!”
They’d left him shut in the office. They weren’t supposed to be so long.
Wentworth took lead, charging to the music studio. The door opened and Honey raised his sleepy head from his spot on his favourite cushion.
“I’ll call the clinic.”
Busy signal, straight to answering machine.
Elliot sagged onto the couch.
Wentworth collapsed next to him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers gripping his hair, face hidden.
“Louisa’s in good hands, Wentworth.”
He nodded, as if speaking cost him too much. Would give away too much.
Elliot splayed a palm on his back and held it there. He hoped knowing someone was there for him helped. His back rose and fell under his fingers.
“We have to tell Henrietta,” Wentworth finally said. “We can’t be sure how bad . . . Every minute counts.”
He stood abruptly; Elliot dropped his hand to the couch and pushed to his feet. He grabbed his keys and Honey. “Let’s go.”
Wentworth sat studiously calm in the passenger seat, but Elliot felt the thrumming tension underneath. When they parked outside the vet clinic, his agitation surfaced.
“I should’ve caught her.”
“You can’t always.”
“How quickly it can go wrong.” Wentworth looked out the passenger window toward the bright blue clinic. “How many hundred times I caught you . . . what if I’d . . . but I suppose I did . . .”
“You never forced anyone to jump.” Elliot gripped the steering wheel hard, knuckles whitening as the evening he’d pushed Wentworth out of his life simmered to the front of his mind. “We have to live with the consequences of the things we persuade ourselves to do.”
“She shouldn’t have jumped. It’s hurting me. But most of all, it’s hurting her.”
“It was her way of showing you that she’s fallen in love with you.”
“And now she might be seriously damaged. Her life might never be a happy one again.”
Elliot’s eyes prickled. “We don’t know that yet. Maybe things will turn out fine in the end?”
“I wish she’d never jumped.”
“She was just . . . loving wholeheartedly.”
“Without pause to consider all the repercussions? I take it back. Loving without thinking is not the most attractive trait.”
“I suppose . . . I suppose when she wakes up, she’ll wish she’d been better at communicating her intentions.”
“I hope so!”
Elliot reached out and touched his thigh. Wentworth flexed under his palm and looked at him. Those navy blues were distraught. “Still doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have jumped.”
“At least . . . at least I could have braced myself for it better.”
Elliot nodded. “We should go in.”
Wentworth’s hand landed on top of his before he could withdraw. Elliot found himself once again staring into worried eyes.
Wentworth spoke low. “I keep going over what I should say to her sister, and . . . the thing is, Elliot. You are excellent at communicating with people—all people—and you’re far more clear-headed and logical and compassionate, and I . . . would you do it? Please?”
They cracked a window for Honey, went inside, and Elliot did the talking.
Wentworth paced the hospital waiting room, Henrietta stood in worried silence, and Elliot bowed his head toward Honey curled on his lap. What if . . . God, Elliot couldn’t think about the worst.
Finally Benny approached and they held their collective breath.
Wentworth jammed shaking hands into his pockets and Elliot stood, nearing him. In case.
A hard frown etched Benny’s forehead, and Elliot wanted to throw up.
“Louisa is stable, no worsening symptoms. Her brain needs time to rest, to recover.”
Wentworth’s shoulders sagged, and Honey yelped from Elliot squeezing him so hard. Stable. Time. Recover.
That was much better than . . . he shuddered.
They stayed until the late evening, when they were told they should go home, get some rest and return tomorrow.
He dropped Benny and Wentworth back at the studios, at Benny’s car. Benny thanked him and headed to his wheels, but Wentworth paused, looked at Elliot through the open passenger door. The interior light settled brightly over his sharp angles, casting his eyes in shadow.
“Thank you for . . . thank you for being there.”
“Of course. Um . . . I’m due in Cubworthy on set there tomorrow . . .” He didn’t like the idea of leaving Wentworth here to cope on his own. “I could see if—”