So the pain, when it came, shot straight up his arm, squeezing the breath from his lungs in a deep groan. He looked down to see the sharp end of the crowbar digging into the thick skin between his left thumb and forefinger. Blood was pouring down his wrist and the metallic glint of the bar. He pulled his hand back, and the pain made his toes curl. He didn’t realize he’d shouted out until he saw Aunt Gina run out of the kitchen door.
There was a jagged cut about two inches long, exposing the soft tissues in his flesh. Blood was gushing everywhere, and he had to grit his teeth against the dizziness threatening to overtake him. He sat down hard on the roof to try to catch his breath.
“Gray!” Aunt Gina called out. “What’s happened?”
“I cut myself,” he said, his voice thinner than he’d expected. He really needed to get down from the roof before he lost too much blood.
“Is it bad?”
“Pretty bad.” There was too much blood to tell if he’d caught any tendons. “I need to get down.” He let go of the crowbar and it clattered down the roof. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he scooted to the edge. He grasped the roof ladder with his good hand, keeping the other lifted up in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.
“My god, Gray,” Aunt Gina whispered by the time he made it down. “Let me get a cloth to clean you up.”
“I think I might need a doctor,” he said, his teeth still clenched together.
“You need the hospital. Sit right there,” she told him firmly, pointing at the bench. “I’m going to call an ambulance, then we need to stop the blood. Keep your hand up and try to breathe.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, trying not to look at the way the sleeve of his grey Henley was stained dark.
But before he could even sit, the world turned black. The last thing he remembered was the sound of blood rushing through his ears.
* * *
Maddie ran into the emergency room, her heart galloping like it was trying to win the Kentucky Derby. She stopped at the desk, still breathless from her mad dash, and told the clerk she was looking for Gray.
“Are you family?”
“No,” she panted. “A close friend.” She looked across the waiting room and spotted the familiar sight of Aunt Gina’s gunmetal grey hair. “It’s okay, I see his aunt. I’ll go sit with her.”
Had it really only been half an hour ago that Laura had ran into the diner to tell her Gray had been rushed here? The town’s grapevine had been working overtime. Eleanor Charlton had been having a dress fitting in Laura’s shop when her best friend, Lula Robinson, had called. Lula’s son worked for the fire department who’d been called out to the Hartson home, and he’d wasted no time in telling his mom that they’d transported a superstar to the Sandson Memorial Hospital.
Aunt Gina showed no signs of surprise when Maddie appeared in front of her. Instead, she stood and smiled at her, offering her cheek the way she always did.
“Is Gray okay?” Maddie asked her after she’d kissed her cheek. “I heard he cut his hand. Is it bad?”
“I’m still waiting to find out. There was a lot of blood and he lost consciousness for a minute. He’s with the doctors now.” She patted the chair next to hers. “Why don’t you sit with me for a minute?”
Maddie wasn’t sure her body would slow down enough to sit. She wanted to pace the hallways until she found him. Still, she tried, taking a deep breath as her legs bent and her behind hit the seat.
“It’s nice of you to come check on him,” Gina said, her voice light.
Maddie’s feet started to tap the floor. “Do you think he hit any tendons?” she asked. That would be so bad for his career, and she felt sick at the thought of it.
“I don’t know. It was hard to tell through all the blood.”
Maddie winced.
“He’s a strong boy,” Gina said, patting her hand. “Don’t worry so much.”
But she did. She was worrying like crazy. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she couldn’t play the piano. It felt as important to her as breathing. And for Gray, his hands were everything.
“You’re fond of him, aren’t you, dear?”
Maddie turned to look at her. There was understanding in Gina’s eyes.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“I had a beau once,” Gina said, her gaze soft. “He was everything to me. But I was seventeen and he was twenty-three and my parents were strict. We’d pass notes after church and if I could get one