“Do you want to call your mother now or after we know more?” Sims’s voice wasn’t without compassion as they made their way to the vehicles.
“After.” He didn’t need Mom freaking out quite yet. Not before he saw Linc. If he called her, she’d come right away, and then he’d be that much further from being alone with Linc. Besides, he’d much rather call with a report that his wrist was a minor sprain and that Linc and Garrick were out of the woods than with a lot of uncertainties.
“Fair enough.” Like the rescue crew out in the field, Sims wasn’t inclined to chitchat on the drive to Bend, which was helpful as night finally fell and the long day didn’t appear anywhere near over. While they drove, a call came in that Garrick was still in surgery in Portland, still fighting for his life, but holding steady.
“My X-rays can probably wait,” he said to Sims after the call ended, the urge to be near Linc reaching overwhelming levels, even if it meant sharing him with others and not being able to speak freely.
“Nope.” Her reply was pretty much as he expected. “I’ve seen permanent nerve and ligament damage from delayed treatment on what looked like a minor injury before. Tell you what, I’ll text you what I find out on Reid.”
“Thanks.” It was something at least, but it was cold comfort for a long wait in the ER where he was understandably low priority on a busy night with multiple smoke inhalation cases and the usual assortment of car accidents and other injuries.
“It’s a sprain,” he confidently told the young female doctor when he was finally shown to a cubicle. “I’ll be back on the job shortly, no problem. Maybe we don’t need to bother with radiology? Just give me a splint?”
He’d heard enough from the nurses to know that X-rays were another lengthy wait, but the doctor just clucked and muttered something about hairline fractures before ordering X-rays. His phone finally buzzed with a message from Sims while he was cooling his heels, waiting to be taken to radiology.
Reid is stable. Being kept for concussion observation. Room 218. How’s the wrist?
Well, that wasn’t much to go on, but he supposed it was better than nothing. And now he had a room number at least. Heck, he was tempted to ditch the X-rays and head right there, but then the orderly showed up to escort him to radiology. Resigning himself to more waiting, he kept refreshing his phone after replying to Sims, but no more news came in about either Garrick or Linc.
And when the doctor came back in with an imposing black rigid cast with Velcro straps, he didn’t even protest too much.
“I can’t believe you hauled your buddy how far?” The doctor shook her head as she applied the cast. It was a damn fracture after all. Barely even a line on the X-ray and it didn’t seem worth the cast to him, but he accepted it with a minimum of grumbling because it got him out of there faster.
Finally, he was on his way to room 218, which he was relieved to see was not an ICU room, just an ordinary hospital room, and as he reached the right number, he almost ran into Sims.
“I see I was right about the break.” She nodded at his arm. “You need a ride back to base? Or your mom’s house?”
“Uh...” Fuck. He needed to see Linc. But there were some things he couldn’t confess to Sims.
Sims released a tired sigh like she didn’t have time for his fumblings. “Or you think you can arrange a ride? I figure you’re chomping at the bit to see for yourself that Reid’s in one piece.”
“Yeah. I’ll work something out.” He seized the opening like a life buoy, not disagreeing that he needed to see Linc.
“I stayed while they were running various tests, but he seems done for the time being with that. He’s supposed to be resting, but I suppose you might be the right kind of distraction.”
Right kind of distraction. Jacob had to smile because that pretty much summed up his summer thus far. Not that he could admit that to her.
“I won’t keep him up,” he promised. “And I know you want to get back yourself. It was a long day for all of us. I’ll figure out something.”
“That it was.” She rubbed her temples. “And it’s not over yet. I don’t know much—HIPAA and all that—but Nelson is in ICU now in Portland with chances high that he’ll need further surgery sooner rather than later.”
“At least he’s alive.” Jacob chose to cling to that ray of hope.
“Yes, there is that. And you’re on medical leave until we can figure out some light duty for you. So don’t worry about clocking in tomorrow.”