Finding Our Course (Finding our Way 3)

“Devon,” a hushed voice calls my name. “Sweetie, you need to wake up.”

I bury my face in the warm blanket and try to block out the sound.

“Devon.” This time, a hand rubs my arm until I open my eyes.

It takes a few seconds to focus, and I remember where I am. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, there’s no change. It’s time for my assessment. You should step into the waiting room,” the nurse tells me.

I scoot my chair back and step away from Bryce’s bed. He looks so peaceful lying there, but the sound of the machines reminds me he’s not asleep. He’s still in a coma. The ache in my chest returns, and I catch the nurse watching me cautiously.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

“Cindy.”

“Are you his nurse for the rest of the night?” I look at my watch and see it’s midnight, which means I’ve been asleep for about forty-five minutes.

“Yes.”

“If I promise to stay out of your way, do you think me and my brother can stay in here while you do your assessments?” I point to Nate, who is asleep in the recliner. “He just fell asleep and has been with Bryce since the accident. I’d hate to wake him up and go to the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room.”

She looks between Nate and me, and her face fills with understanding.

“You have to stay back there.” She points to the wall.

I nod and kiss Bryce’s cheek lightly before standing back. While she works, I send a quick message to everyone that there’s no change.

Once Bryce was moved, we all took turns coming to see him. After six hours of alternating visits, I could see the exhaustion and worry starting to take its toll on everyone. The parents got hotel rooms close to the hospital, but Nate insisted Quinn, Crystal, and Morgan stay at the townhouse. They tried to talk me into going with them to sleep for a few hours, but I refused to leave. Nate agreed with me and said we’d take the first night with Bryce. It took a lot of convincing, but Shelia and Dave finally agreed to go and sleep for a few hours if I promised to send them updates. So far, there was nothing to tell them, but I sent messages anyway.

After twenty minutes, Cindy gives me a small smile and motions me back to the bed.

“How is he?” I slide my hand under his.

“No change. The doctors will want to run a few tests in the morning to look at his brain activity.”

“Is that normal?”

“Yes, especially if they plan to move him.”

“Have you been doing this long, Cindy?”

“I’ve been a nurse for twenty-nine years.”

“Have you worked with a lot of patients in Bryce’s condition?”

“Too many to count.”

“How can I help him?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing. Touch him, talk to him, make sure he’s as comfortable as possible.”

“Can he hear me? Can he feel me?”

“Opinions vary, but I think so.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.” My voic

e breaks. “I want to do everything in my power for him.”