Officer Tran joined us with an EMT. He knelt in front of me. “We’re going to take you to the hospital too, okay? But first let’s get you checked out. Then you can be with your friend.”
An EMT sat with me and gave me what I presumed was a concussion test. I passed with flying colors and they shuffled me into the front seat of Tran’s squad car. We tore down the road, the ambulance ahead of us, sirens screaming and red lights flashing.
When we arrived at UCSC Medical Center, River had already been wheeled inside and whisked away to God-knew where. Officer Tran took my arm and led me into a waiting area. He and a few other cops conferred, trying to figure out what to do with me.
“Is there someone we can call for you?” he asked.
“No. But River… We have to tell his dad. Oh, Christ…” I bent over, my head between my knees as dizziness assaulted me.
“We have his ID,” Officer Tran said gently. “His parents have been notified.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “What about you, son? How about getting you some warm clothes—?”
I shook out of his touch and stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”
He nodded at the hallway in the bustling hospital.
“I’ll be waiting out here.”
Just arrest me already, I wanted to scream. I might’ve murdered a man tonight.
I crossed to the bathroom and shoved open the door that weighed a thousand pounds. My face under the garish fluorescents was unrecognizable. Pale green eyes in a paler face, marred only by a dash of red on my left cheek bone. I looked like what they called me—a vampire, gaunt and chiseled out of white porcelain. Lifeless.
My clothes were still damp and covered in sand. River’s tux jacket peeked out from under my coat, and a sob tore out of my throat. I hugged myself, as if I could hold onto some piece of him.
When there was nothing left in me, I dabbed my face with a paper towel, tossed it in the trash, and walked out to find Jerry Whitmore talking to Officer Tran.
He looked frantic and just out of bed in sweatpants, shoes without socks, and a windbreaker. They spoke for a few moments and then both turned to me. Officer Tran said something else and Jerry’s expression changed. He approached me, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the punch to the mouth to come out of the dark.
“Holden, right?”
“Mr. Whitmore…” I managed and then fell silent as Jerry took my hand in his and shook it.
“We don’t know what’s happening yet with my son,” he said, his voice gruff. “But they tell me he would’ve died if you hadn’t been there.”
I stared.
“Just tell me,” he said, swallowing hard and jamming his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Was he drinking?”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t. He never would do something like that. Not him…”
Jerry blew out a small, tight sigh of relief. “I knew it. I knew he wouldn’t jeopardize his standing with the university.”
Fuck me, I can’t…
A doctor rounded the corner. Tall and handsome with the same intelligent gravitas as Denzel Washington. “Whitmore family?”
Jerry’s face paled and he raised his hand. “I’m his dad.”
He and the doctor conferred for a moment out of ear shot. I stood immobile, watching their faces for a sign. Any second now, Jerry was going to collapse in the doctor’s arms, wailing for his boy…
But River’s dad nodded eagerly, soaking in every word the doctor said with a desperate, hopeful smile. Then he shook the doctor’s hand, almost frantically, and thanked him again and again.
Relief rocked me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Jerry was motioning for me to join them. Feeling like I was in a dream, I crossed the waiting room, Officers Tran and Dowd following.
“River’s okay,” Jerry said, the words tumbling out of his mouth.
“He’s in stable condition,” the doctor corrected gently. His badge read Stansfield. “He’s sustained a severe concussion, resulting in a brain bleed which, so far, appears small and the swelling minimal.”
“Brain bleed,” I murmured.