Wethering the Storm (The Storm 2)

“I’m…” He lifts his shoulders lightly, biting his lip. “You guys are my family.” He swipes away another tear. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Sensing rising emotions, something he seems good at, Josh steps in, putting a hand on Stuart’s shoulder. “I’m going to take Jake to see Tru now. I said you’d stay with the little guy.” He tilts his head toward the door behind me.

“I don’t want him to be alone,” I add, my voice raw again.

“Of course.” Stuart nods. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be right now.”

Leaving Stuart, Josh takes the lead and I follow him.

Stopping, I turn back. “Stuart?”

He stops with the door partway open. “Yeah?”

I step forward. “Hold his hand. He likes to wrap his hand around your finger.”

He offers a light smile. “Okay, I’ll make sure to do that.”

“And Stuart.” I catch his attention again. “You have to clean your hands with that sanitizer stuff before you touch him, you know, to keep the germs away.”

“Sanitizer. Got it.” He nods. “I’ll take good care of him, Jake.”

“I know you will.”

I follow Josh down the hall toward the bank of elevators. My heart labours heavy in my chest. Fear roils around me at the thought of seeing Tru.

All I’ve wanted for the last few hours is to see her, and now I’m so close. I’m so very fucking terrified.

We step inside the elevator. Josh presses the button to take us down a few floors.

The doors slide closed.

“Jake, I want you to be prepared for seeing Tru. She’s not going to be—”

“Don’t say it. I know. But…just don’t say it.” I cross my arms, pushing at the ache in my chest.

Josh nods and stares straight ahead.

The elevator glides to a halt, the doors slide open, and I follow Josh out.

With every step closer to Tru, the more panic and terror I feel at what I’m going to see.

We take a right at the end of the hall, into another empty hall, except for a man sitting, writing on some papers attached to a clipboard.

Putting the clipboard down, he stands at our approach and pushes his glasses up his nose.

He’s a bookish-looking doctor wearing blue cotton pants and a V-neck top. At least he’s not wearing a white coat.

He’s wearing scrubs.

Are they what he wore while operating on Tru?

I start to feel sick as unwanted images flash through my mind.

“Josh.” He nods.

“Lucas, this is Jake Wethers, Trudy’s fiancé. Jake, this is Dr. Lucas Kish.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake.”

I nod a response.

It’s not exactly like I want to shake his fucking hand and say It’s nice to meet you, because it’s really fucking not.

I don’t want to meet him. I don’t want Tru to be here.

“Okay, so…” He pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. “As Dr. Kimble explained to you before, Trudy suffered a severe head injury as a result of the impact.”

I wince at the pain the words bring me.

“From the impact, she hit her right frontal lobe, what we call the emotional part of the brain, causing a severe contusion to the skull. There was internal bleeding and swelling to the brain. We stemmed the bleeding and eased the pressure there. Trudy also suffered other injuries from the accident. Her collarbone was fractured, her right arm broken, and her hand crushed…”

Fractured. Broken. Crushed.

“…but it’s the head injury that obviously causes the most concern.”

I try to steer my emotions deep inside so I can focus on what he’s telling me. But my eyes keep flicking to the door to my left, where I know Tru is.

Taking a deep breath, I force out the words I fear the answer to most. “Is she going to get through this?”

Dr. Kish removes his hands from his pockets, folds them together, and takes a deep breath. I see his eyes sweep the floor before coming back to me.

Nerves crawl around my body.

“The next twenty-four hours are critical. Her vitals are stable but low. She’s in a coma and attached to a ventilator. She isn’t breathing on her own. With your consent, I plan on removing the ventilator in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours to see if Trudy responds to breathing alone. If she does, we’re looking on the side of positive.”

I swallow hard. “And…if she doesn’t?”

He looks me firmly in the eye. “We cross that bridge when we come to it. These next few days are critical for Trudy’s recovery, but I promise you that we are going to do everything in our power to see her through to the other side of this and get her back home with you and your son.”

I push at the ache in my chest with my hand. “When she does wake, could there be long-term damage to her brain?” My mouth feels papery.

He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Possibly, yes. We won’t know that until she wakes. The good thing is, the left side of her brain is fine. If it had been the left, her speech, amongst other things, could have been affected. So we have that to be thankful for.”

I tense, fist clenching at my side. “I don’t see anything to be thankful for right now.” My tone is cold, biting.

I see the concern flash over his face. “Of course not, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

“Jake.” Josh’s hand goes to my arm, but I can’t relax. “Lucas didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just trying to give you the positive side of the bad. He is one of the best neurosurgeons the US has to offer. You can trust him. He will do everything possible to get Tru through this.”

My eyes go to Josh, then Dr. Kish. I swallow past the brick in my throat. “You have to get her through this because…she’s everything.”

He looks at me with understanding, and he nods his head once. “You have my word, Jake.”

“Okay, I just…” I rub my hand over my face. “Can I…? I just want to see her.”

Dr. Kish steps closer. “You can, but I need you to be prepared. Trudy will look very different right now. There’s severe bruising to her face, and her eyes are slightly open, giving the impression that she’s awake. It’s due to the swelling on the brain, which forces the eyes open—”

“Okay,” I cut him off, not needing to hear any more. “I just need to see her.”

Leaving them both where they stand, I head straight to the door.

Then I pause.

Turning, I realise I haven’t asked before now. “How did the accident happen?”

Josh glances at Kish, then back to me. “A drunk driver. He ran a red light and went into the side of them.”

Rage I never knew I possessed strikes me, driving into my head like nails. I grit my teeth together, fists clenched at my sides. “Did he survive? The driver?”

Josh shakes his head slowly. “No. He died on impact.”

“Good.” Because I would have killed the motherfucker with my bare hands if he had.

Turning back to the door, back to Tru, I pull in a deep breath, then push down on the handle and walk slowly into the room.

Tru.

Jesus, no.

Pain digs its ruthless claws deep into my chest.

Nothing could have ever prepared me for this.

She looks broken. Barely resembling the Tru I know.

Everything suddenly seems slow, like I’m moving against water as I take her in.

Her skin is pale. There’s a white soft bandage over the right side of her head, and I can see that her beautiful hair has been shaved off in front.

Her right arm up to her shoulder is in a cast. Her hand is swaddled in bandages. Her face is swollen and bruised. Her eyes are slightly open, like Kish said they would be. She looks awake, but I know she’s not.

More than anything, I wish she were. I would give everything to have her awake right now.

My skin prickles and my senses go into overload as I take in all the tubes emerging from her body.

The machines keeping her alive beep, echoing inside my mind.

Jesus, no, baby.

Memories of her flash through my mind…

Seeing her again in that hotel room after all those years…Tru lying beneath me as I moved inside her the first time we made love…confessing my love for her…dancing with her at the Eiffel Tower…her agreeing to marry me…us together on that island…her face when she saw our new home…Tru telling me she was pregnant…the first moment we saw our baby on the monitor…

Crossing the room in strides, I fall to my knees at her bedside, hitting the cold, hard tile floor. The bite of pain is barely noticeable to me.

I take hold of her hand, pressing my face against it. I inhale her scent, needing to be close to her. Needing her. But it only makes this hurt so much more.

Tears track painful lines down my cheeks.

“Don’t leave me, Tru.” I choke on the pain in my throat as tears drip from my chin onto the bed. “I need you so fuckin’ much. We need you. We’ve got a son, Tru, and he’s so perfect, so beautiful. He looks just like you. I love you so fuckin’ much. Don’t leave me, baby, please…” I close my eyes. “Please come back to me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I pace the foyer of the small wing where Tru and my son now are. Security flanks the door behind me.

As I knew would happen, the press are camped outside.

They won’t even give me space to figure my way through this. It’s all over the news—the accident, Tru’s condition, and how my son was brought into this world.

A few hours ago, a reporter managed to sneak his way into the hospital. His aim was to get a picture of Tru in her hospital bed.

What kind of sick fuck does that?

If he had gotten anywhere near her, I would have killed him where he stood.

It turns out the guy never even made it down the hall.

Dave set up residency outside Tru’s room the second he was released. With his broken arm, he dragged the reporter out of there. Or so I’ve been told. I didn’t see it myself. I was with my son at the time. I hate that I wasn’t there.

For Tru and my son’s safety, I had them moved to a private wing. Their rooms are next to one another’s, with Dave situated outside Tru’s door and a guard outside my son’s. Security is covering both entrances and exits.

I haven’t spoken to Dave about the accident or the incident with the reporter. I haven’t spoken to him at all.

In a brief conversation with Denny earlier, he told me Dave is blaming himself for the accident.

It wasn’t his fault.

Have I told him that?

No.

Why?

I’m not entirely sure.

And why am I here pacing the floor outside the elevators and not with Tru right now?

Because Billy and Eva are on their way up.

And I am so very fucking terrified to see them.

I haven’t spoken to them yet. Ben picked them up from the airport and drove them straight here.

I haven’t spoken to them because I don’t know what to say.

Do I say I’m sorry?

Because I am. So very fucking sorry.