King Hunt (Boys of Brisley 1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

The Long Night

My whole world narrowedto that moment. The heartbeat it took for her to tell me he was alive, that he hadn’t hit his head, that she thought it was the hip he’d always had trouble with.

Probably not serious.

Probably, and yet, every fear I’d had about my father moving in with me instead of a nursing home felt validated as I pushed my BMW to its limits trying to beat the ambulance to the hospital.

The nurse at reception got a peek of my bad side as I demanded to be told where he was, what floor, what room, the blood types and social security numbers of the doctors working on him. Anything and everything that would make me feel more in control, but nothing worked until I heard her behind me.

“Sterling.” She rushed into my arms, clinging to me tightly with her messy bun in my face and from the looks of it, she hadn’t had an opportunity to change before the ambulance brought them. She was in leggings, those ridiculous rainbow Crocs and one of my hoodies from the closet near the front door as she tried to comfort me through her own sniffles. “He’s okay,” she whispered. “They said he might have to have surgery, but he didn’t see a doctor yet.”

I buried my face in her neck and inhaled deeply, letting her words comfort me as much as the scent of her soap. “Are you sure?”

She nodded slowly, fingers curling in my suit jacket behind me. “They won’t let me see him though. I don’t have anything but my phone with me and they said family only.”

“You are family. Take me to his room, I’ll make sure everyone here knows it.” I kissed the top of her head, realizing I’d been selfish in ways I hadn’t even considered — but that stopped then. “Come on.”

She wiped her eyes as she pulled back, then gently took my hand with an expression that asked if I was okay, and I shook my head slightly. I had more things to tell her than I thought I did, but it would all have to wait until I had eyes on my father.

I didn’t have room in my head for anything else at that moment.

“He’s this way,” she said quietly, leading me up two floors in the elevator and then down a long hallway. One short left turn later, she was squeezing my hand outside his door. “I’ll give you a moment. I’ll be right out here.”

“Thank you.” I kissed her forehead softly and held there as I braced myself, then stepped into the room and took a seat next to his bed. “What happened?”

Charlie looked smaller in the hospital bed, frail, and I could see the bruises already forming on his right side. “I should have been paying attention. Is Zeppelin okay? You should have heard her on the phone with them. I’ve never seen so much fire in a small package.”

“She’s worried about you. Which reminds me, if anyone asks, she’s my wife. They wouldn’t let her in here. Funny that no one was around to try and stop me, but I’m not complaining.” I frowned as my chest tightened. “Where was she?”

The word “wife” seemed to wake him up in a way that made my heart ache. “Sh-she was in the kitchen. We had omelets and she was cleaning up the mess after. Normally she picks the music, but I was in the mood for our song, Ellie’s song. Your mother always made the best omelets and I was thinking of her. I tripped over a stool. I heard my hip crack when I landed. It’s broken, Sterling.” He held up his right hand, which was wrapped in an ace bandage. “My pinky, too.”

My nose tingled as tears threatened to spill, but there would be time for that when I was out of that room. For now, I had to be Sterling, Charlie Bishop’s eldest son, the one who stayed strong and took care of everything and everyone around him. “Okay. I’m going to send her in here to keep you company while I track down your doctor so we can get some real answers. Do you need anything? Water? Pudding?”

“No, no. No more fuss over me. Go get our girl before she calls more people names.” He chuckled lightly in spite of his situation, which comforted me enough that I had the spine to leave.

I sent Zeppelin in without a word and annoyed every human in scrubs or a lab coat I could find until Dr. Grant finally put me out of my misery and told me he was headed to my dad’s room anyway.

Three rough hours later, I was listening to Dr. Grant explain to the three of us that he had an intracapsular break in his right hip, which would require surgery to fix. My father tried twice to refuse the treatment, but the reminder that leaving it alone would render him bedridden and pose all sorts of risks to his health from blood clots to infections and just about everything in between nearly had him convinced, though the anesthesia he’d need for the surgery wasn’t a joke either.

I could understand his reservations, but I needed him to be okay. “Dad,” I started, but Zeppelin gently squeezed my arm.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you check in with Ollie and see if he’s close?”

The tension left my shoulders. I knew if anyone could get through to my father, it was her, so I nodded and left the room to call my brother. I wasn’t surprised when it went to voicemail — I knew he’d be there when he could, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and went back out to the waiting room to try and collect myself.

It was going to be a long night.

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Zeppelin

I KNEW ANESTHESIA WASscary, but more than that, I knew Charlie was strong. “Listen, I’ve got your back, okay? You want to ride this out, I’m there. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard it is. But if you don’t do the surgery, it’s going to get fucking hard. For all of us, mostly you. You’d have to give so much up, Charlie, and I know how much you love your seat by the window. Could you imagine never sitting in that chair again?”

I took his hand as he let out a long, sad breath. “No, I can’t.”

“Me either. You’re strong. There’s no way some anesthesia takes out the great Charlie Bishop. We’ll be home and trying new omelets before you know it.”