He held out a small blue blanket, which I accepted with a smile, and wrapped around my shoulders, covering as much of me as possible.
“Thank you.”
Scott returned my smile, gave my shoulder a squeeze, then turned and went back to gather Gaby in his arms.
Brendan walked past me to acknowledge Abigail, so I made my way to where Brady was still sitting on the floor. I slid down the wall, scooching closer until my arm was brushing against his. He was staring off into space, also in the same clothes he’d had on at the bar, hair spiking in every different direction, as if he’d been trying to tear it out.
“Hey,” I said softly, taking his hand in mine.
“It’s been almost ten years since our parents’ accident,” Brady said, his voice rough with pain. I squeezed his hand gently and he continued, “I’ll never forget when they came to the door … I answered it. Then now … tonight, the police called, and once again, I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even look to see who was calling, figured it was one of my brothers, then … Bam. I can’t fucking do this again.”
Brady dropped his chin to his chest, and I could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
“You don’t know what’s going on yet,” I said, reaching out to smooth his hair, hoping to offer him some sort of comfort. “Don’t assume the worst.”
Brady lifted his head and brought his tortured eyes to mine.
“It’s my fault,” he began. “I told him to go after you … Said he’d been too harsh and he needed to make it right. If I would’ve let him sleep on it and work it out on his own, he wouldn’t have been out there at the same time as that damn semi.”
“No, Brady,” I replied urgently, “don’t do that to yourself.” But at the same time I said it, my heart filled with pain and accusation. If I hadn’t left in a fit, if I’d stayed back and talked to Brock, rather than running away, he never would have went after me.
We sat on the floor, holding hands, but not saying anything, for what felt like forever. Finally, a tall, thin man in navy scrubs came out and asked, “Can I see just the family for now?”
Brady gave my hand one more squeeze, before standing and joining Brendan. Together, they followed the doctor out of the waiting room.
Chapter 21 ~ Brock
I laid there, numb, unable to fathom everything that had happened over the last twelve hours. I remembered riding my bike toward Victoria’s, and the sudden flash of lights, then being airborne. After that … nothing. I guess I was fortunate that I had no memory of what happened.
They said I flew off my bike upon impact, but that the semi had caught the bike just right, and it had catapulted after me, landing on top of me in the median. The driver had dozed at the wheel, but had reacted quickly and was able to get help and pull my bike off of me. He’d been arrested, and was currently in a holding cell at the police station.
I’d been confused when I’d come to, but the doctor explained my injuries, including the fact that although I currently had no feeling in my legs, the paralysis was most likely temporary, due to trauma.
All I knew was, I couldn’t move my legs, and I was terrified that it would be permanent.
I tried to keep my cool when Brendan and Brady were ushered into the room. Especially when I saw the state my middle brother was in. He’d taken my parents’ death extremely hard, and I was sure that the thought of losing me, not just his brother, but surrogate father, was taking its toll on him.
So, even though I wanted to rage and scream, I had to keep my shit together … for my brothers.
“Hey,” I muttered, the drugs fogging up my brain, but in a good way.
Instead of responding, Brady rushed to my side and threw his arms around me, laying his face in my chest and struggling not to sob. I could feel him taking deep breaths to try and regain his composure, and my heart broke at the suffering I’d caused him.
“Bro, I’m gonna be fine,” I assured him, trying to will my arms to stay around him, even though they wanted to flop back onto the bed like wet noodles.
“They said you have trouble with your legs,” Brendan said quietly from the other side of me. I turned my head slowly to him, my gut tightening when I saw the pain that he’d also been suffering, all over his face.
“Just temporary,” I replied, hoping I conveyed a confidence that I did not feel. “I’ll be up and climbing ladders again in no time.”
As I said the words, a kind of fog settled over me as I imagined what my life would be like if the paralysis was permanent. I’d never get to paint another house, go mudding with my brothers, or stand on stage and play the guitar. How could I be the protector of my family from a chair?
I laid my head back into the pillow and closed my eyes, urging the thoughts of self-pity away. I had to be strong for my brothers; they were counting on me. I felt myself starting to doze as the drugs worked through my system, then jolted awake when Brady stood up.
“Victoria’s here, you want me to bring her back?” Brady asked, wiping his face and running his hands through his hair.
Victoria. I thought back to how far she’d come o
ver the last few weeks. Finding something to be passionate about, and trying things she never thought she would. I looked down at my body, bandaged and broken, with tubes and lines sticking out of me, and I knew no matter what happened, my road to recovery was not going to be easy. If the paralysis was only temporary, I’d still need time to mend, and probably some sort of physical therapy. If it wasn’t temporary, then my entire life would change, and I would have to learn to deal with it. Not just physically, but emotionally. I knew that Victoria was a strong woman, but no matter how strong, I could never ask her to stick around when there was a chance I’d be in a chair for the rest of my life.