“It’s going to be okay, baby girl. I’m almost there,” I promise, slamming my foot on the pedal and running a red light. I don’t give a fuck as I skid into a parking spot near the hospital. Leaping out, I take my keys and sprint toward the emergency room doors. “I’m here,” I tell her as I run over to the reception desk.
“My wife’s sister was rushed in from St. Augustine’s. We don’t know how badly she was hurt. Her name is Zoey Holmes. I legally adopted her when I married my wife,” I rush out, realizing that I’m babbling, which is so unlike me.
I also realize I never told Layla or Zoey about me adopting her…a problem for another time.
The receptionist just nods and tells me to wait one second.
“She came in twenty minutes ago. She’s been seen by a doctor and is currently in radiology. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Please,” I snap before closing my eyes and breathing. It’s not her fault, after all. Opening them again, I lean in closer, pleading with her. “Please, I just need to know if she’s okay; she’s our entire world. She’s the only family we have.”
The woman purses her lips but nods before typing quickly and looking around like she shouldn’t be telling me this. “Her notes say they suspected a fractured arm, but they want to check her head because of her history. I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you. I’ll let Zoey’s doctor know you’re here, and they’ll call you back,” she tells me reassuringly.
“Thank you.” I sigh and step away, placing the phone to my lips. “You hear that, baby girl? It’s just a fractured arm. We can deal with that.”
“Her head,” she whispers worriedly, cars beeping in the background.
“She’s hardheaded and stubborn like you, baby. I promise she’ll be okay. Look after yourself. I’ll be waiting for you when you get here, my love.” When she says goodbye, I hang up. As I pocket my phone, my hands shaking, I finally let myself truly feel the utter terror, hope, worry, and anger.
There are so many emotions, unlike before when I was used to living without any. Not only did my two girls lighten my world and breathe life back into it, but they also breathed it back into me, and I’m struggling to contain all these new thoughts and worries. The protectiveness surging in me for my family overwhelms me.
I pace the waiting room, back and forth, focusing on the rhythmic motions to try and keep the fear at bay. About fifteen minutes later, Layla flies in like a storm, her eyes wild and hair everywhere. I catch her and pull her into my arms as she cries.
“Where is she? Is she okay?” she demands.
“They haven’t—”
“Mr. and Mrs. Holmes?” comes a feminine voice. We break apart to see a middle-aged, friendly-looking female doctor waiting there. “I’m Zoey’s doctor today, Dr. Cameron. Please follow me.”
“Is she okay?” Layla questions, rushing after her and tugging me along with her.
“She’ll be fine, I promise. Let me tell you and Zoey what’s happening at the same time. Please, through here.” She gestures, and we follow her into the emergency department and to the cubicle where Zoey is sitting up in the bed.
“Kid, you scared the shit out of me!” I exclaim, moving to her side and taking her arm that isn’t raised.
“Zoey, oh my gosh, I was so worried!” Layla cries, holding her softly and kissing her.
She smiles, but her eyes are watery and her face is pale. “I’m okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“As you can see, Zoey has fractured her arm, but fortunately it’s only in one place, and with the proper treatment, it should heal very well. Her head is fine; we had to check. She was lucky,” the doctor explains. “So our next course of action is to cast her arm to heal the break. She will get some pain medication just in case, and we will want a CT on her head in seven days just to make sure everything is alright.”
“Oh, thank God.” Layla slumps, moving closer to my side.
“She’s going to be okay,” Dr. Cameron promises warmly, looking at Zoey. “She’s one tough little girl. Let me prescribe some meds and cast her arm, and then you can take her home.”
“Thank you, thank you so much,” Layla gushes, reaching over to squeeze her hand. As the doctor leans in to check Zoey one last time, Layla rushes into my arms, sobs racking her body as all her worry finally dissipates. I wrap my arms around her, holding her as she presses closer to my chest, my own heart hurting.
“Shush, love,” I murmur, hating her tears. I nod as the doctor leaves and rub Layla’s back.
When she leans away, I wipe the tears from her beautiful face and stare into those glistening jewels that I fell in love with the first time I saw her. “Thank you, I . . .” Her words trail off as her eyes land on my wrist. “Alaric . . . whose blood is that?” she demands, her brows pinching together.
“What?” I follow her gaze, and ice floods my veins.
In my panic, I hadn’t checked myself over. On the sleeve of my shirt is a bloodstain. It’s red and clearly fresh, and there’s enough that the person must be hurt.
“Are you hurt?” she asks as if following my line of thought.
“No, I’m okay,” I promise when I see her worry for me. My poor wife has been through the wringer today, and I’m only adding to it. She reaches to check, as if she doesn’t believe me. “Layla, I promise I’m okay,” I assure her, seeing the concern in her eyes which quickly fades to confusion and then stark terror.