Marianne sat beside him, settling an ice pack on his left knee. He hissed in at the cold.
“She’s got a concussion, probably. The ambulance should be . . . there. There we go. I hear them. They’re going to take her to the base hospital. You, too, sweetie.”
He watched her a moment, saw a silent tear track down her cheek. Marianne was normally so strong. So formidable. She had to be, to keep up with a group of hardened Marines. But just now, he saw the soft side. And it worried him that she was struggling to hold on to her professional, tough exterior. It meant there was something to worry about. “I’m going with her.”
Brad started to speak, but Marianne shook her head. “That’s fine. I only see two ambulances anyway, and Levi’s going to need the other. Go with her. Your knee will be fine. Keep this on it, and then twenty off. Ask for another one at the hospital when you get there. And have them wrap your hands with some ointment. Don’t you dare argue.”
Marianne stood as paramedics raced over, one carrying a straight board.
He leaned down, near her ear as Kara watched the proceedings with wide eyes and an uncomprehending look on her face. “It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He kissed her gently, careful not to move her head at all. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she mouthed back, before he had to scoot away to give the paramedics room to work.
*
KARA awoke, for the nineteenth time it seemed like, to dark. Finally. Too many people poking, prodding, invading her personal space, shining bright lights and not letting her close her eyes had left her angry. And she was hungry. So hungry she’d morphed to “hangry.”
The thought made her smile a little, and miss Zach so much it hurt. She tried to roll to her side, but that hurt, so she turned her head very slowly. She’d made the unfortunate decision when they’d first brought her in to try and sit up too fast. That had resulted in dry heaving and more pain. Lesson learned.
The sounds of life hummed outside the curtain, but at least the lights in her own little cubicle were lowered, and the curtains seemed to help block most of the rest. There was no clock though. It could be four in the afternoon, or three in the morning. They’d removed all her jewelry when she’d come in for the MRI and CAT scans. She’d fallen asleep before they’d given her the results. Given she wasn’t in surgery, or on some special head trauma floor, she could safely assume she was going to make it.
Graham sat beside her, as he had since they’d brought her in. Slumped over in an uncomfortable position for sleep. She’d tried in vain to shoo him out the door to make it to his match, which he’d laughed at. While she’d been getting an MRI, he’d been in the ER himself getting his knee X-rayed and his hands bandaged. He’d fractured his patella, alongside minor burns on his hands. No boxing for him, and likely no exercise for several weeks. The fact that he got hurt assisting her made her stomach cramp. But God . . . thank God he’d been there.
She studied him, while she had the chance. His face was slack, mouth open just a little. The man was gorgeous, and looked like a little boy while he slept. His left leg was extended straight out, and a pair of crutches propped up in one corner. His hand held hers, fingers entwined as much as they could through the gauze wrapping around them. More than once, a nurse had come by and had had to ask multiple times for him to let go before they could check vitals. He was so worried, even if he didn’t say it. She saw it in his eyes. He didn’t want to let her go.
“Knock, knock.” Reagan’s voice came through the thick curtain, and she stuck in one hand to wave. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, but shh.” There was no way for her to make herself more presentable, so she just looked down to make sure the hospital gown covered everything it could, and smoothed her hair from her face. “Graham’s sleeping, finally.”
“You’re worried about him? Oh, honey.” With a tsking sound, Reagan came in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. “You’re such a mom.”
“Guilty.” After a moment, she asked, “Has anyone called the Cooks? Or Zach?”
“Marianne called her parents to explain, and asked them not to mention it to Zach. We figured you would want to explain what happened after you get home, when he can see clearly you’re okay.”
“Thank you.” Starting to tire, Kara let her eyes close for a moment. It felt soothing to her brain. Like spreading cool aloe over a sunburn. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“AM or PM?”
“Wow, you really were out of it. Only PM.” Reagan’s hand rubbed her forearm a bit. “How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted, which is ridiculous since all I’ve been doing for the past, I guess, eight or nine hours is lying here and sleeping on and off.”