The guy cuts Bram off by slamming the door shut.
The air leaves my chest, and I find myself unable to breathe. “No,” is all I manage to get out. This can’t be it. He can’t be gone.
I take off toward the medic, my arm extended to grab onto the door latch. I can’t let them take him from me.
The brake lights illuminate, and it lurches away from me.
I call out, this time louder. “No, wait!”
Bram grabs me by the shoulders. “Come on, I’ll drive.” He turns me toward the entrance of the diner, where people are scattered about, staring at us.
I follow him over to the old truck and hop into the passenger seat without another thought. Once inside, I feel the invisible thread connecting me and Johnny being pulled apart.
I desperately bite at the inside of my cheek to stop the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to completely ruin me.
Bram wastes no time turning over the engine and rushing out of the parking spot to catch up to the ambulance. The tires squeal, but he isn’t bothered. He blows through a red light and cuts through traffic to place us right behind them.
A few agonizing minutes later, we pull up to the emergency room as Johnny is carted out of the back and brought into the hospital. I barely wait for Bram to stop his truck before I jump out and rush toward them.
Bram is at my side within seconds.
Machines beep. Automatic doors open. Other people in the medical field come rushing over to ask questions and start their assessment.
“Caucasian male, approximately twenty years old, gunshot wound. BP dropping.”
I get stopped by two women in front of a set of doors. “You can’t go back there.”
I stand tall to glance through the small window and note the wordssurgeryandcritical conditionthat float back to me.
“Where are they taking him?” I blurt out.
The lady in the obnoxiously bright polka-dot-covered scrubs says, “You can wait in the third-floor waiting room.” She points across the way. “Elevator is to your left up ahead.”
Bram places his hand on my back and leads me toward it without saying a word.
We rush over, despite knowing we have a long road ahead of us until we get any news on Johnny’s condition.
I cling to the little bit of hope that he will make it through this. He has to.
We step into the elevator and an elderly woman holding herself up with a cane stares at us.
I go to the opposite side and glance down at my body. I’m covered in Johnny’s blood and I can feel the hair that is matted to my cheeks from my tears. To her, I probably look like I just stepped out of a horror movie scene.
Bram and I get off at floor three and go into the empty waiting room.
“They’re not going to tell us anything.” I settle into a seat in the corner and pick at my thumb. I turn to him and finally meet his gaze. “Will you say you’re his dad? Please?” I barely get the words out without choking on the sob that bubbles up.
Bram nods without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
The tiniest bit of relief washes over me. It’s not much, but at least now we won’t completely be in the dark with what’s going on with Johnny.
“Claire,” Bram speaks quietly. “This wasn’t an accident, was it?”
I clench my jaw. Johnny’s done everything possible to make sure Bram was left out of this side of his world, but now, how can I lie to him given the circumstances? Doesn’t Bram deserve to know a portion of the truth?
“No, it wasn’t.”
Bram runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair. “That’s what I thought.”