Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Just stop right here,” I practically shout at Gavin when I see the Emergency Room sign for St. Luke’s. I’m already getting out of his car before it even comes to a stop.
“I’ll find a place to park, and I’ll meet you inside,” he says, but I barely hear him. The only thing I can think about is that my youngest child is in a hospital without me. He’s probably scared and crying and worried, and his mother isn’t by his side because she was too busy going on a stupid date.
The emergency room doors slide open as I step up to them, and I run to the desk. “I’m here for Grant Brown. I’m his mother.”
“Room Twelve. You can go on back,” the nice lady behind the reception desk tells me and opens the doors without another question. I’m sure she’s seen enough frazzled moms to know which ones are the real deal.
It takes everything inside me to walk at a semi-normal pace as I rush toward Grant’s room.
But when I get there, he’s nowhere to be found. The bed isn’t even in the room. Just Zoe and Seth sit in two chairs beside a medical cart.
“Where is he?” I ask. Zoe jumps up to wrap me in a big hug.
“They already took him back. He needs surgery.” A large part of me wants to scream, but the other rational part of me can hear the edge of tears in Zoe’s small voice. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Zo.” I hug her back tightly. “I know it was an accident.”
Not even a second later, I pull Seth into a tight hug, even picking him up off the floor to do it. “You okay, buddy?”
“Grant’s arm looked gross, Mom! We could see his bone!”
“God, I’m so sorry,” Zoe apologizes again. “I asked them if they would wait until his mom got here, but they said they couldn’t. Something about infection and nerve damage if they waited any longer.”
This is not good. I want to break down in uncontrollable sobs, but I know that’s a useless endeavor and the last thing Seth needs to see his mom doing while his little brother is getting ready for surgery.
I have to keep it together and be strong for both of my boys and Zoe.
I scrub a hand down my face and look back at them. My nanny is currently fighting the urge to cry, and Seth’s eyes are so wide, I can see the reflection of my face in his pupils.
“What can I do?” Zoe asks, and her voice shakes. “I feel helpless right now, Sammy.”
“You’ve done everything I needed you to do,” I tell her and hug her again. “You made sure he got medical attention right away. It’s not your fault he got hurt, okay? I know that. And you need to know that too.”
She nods, blinking past her tears. But I can tell that she’s a mess. And Seth’s unusually quiet demeanor makes it obvious he’s overwhelmed.
“How about you take Seth back home and grab some dinner on the way?” I tell Zoe, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stay here with Grant.” I squat down to talk to Seth. “Buddy, how do you feel about going home with Zoe and eating some pizza?”
“Pizza Hut pizza?”
“Whatever pizza you want. Your choice.”
“Heck yes!” he cheers. “I’ll order extra so Grant has some when he gets home, too. I’ll even get his favorite cookie pizza for dessert. He loves that.”
Obviously, this is very wishful thinking on his part, but I don’t hesitate to let him believe it will all be that simple.
“I think that’s a great idea, buddy.”
Zoe looks at me, still unsure, but I offer a soft smile and give her one more hug. “Thank you for making sure Grant got here right away. Now, you and Seth head home, get some dinner, and I’ll keep you updated.”
“Okay.” She nods. “And don’t worry about Seth. I’ll sleep over tonight.”
“You’re the best. Thank you.”
I give Seth one more hug and kiss on the cheek before they go.
Though, once they’re out of the mostly empty room, I plop down in one of the chairs, put my head in my hands, and give myself a moment to be emotional. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I don’t try to stop them as I let my guard down.
Fucking hell. My baby is in surgery, and I didn’t even get to tell him I love him.
For a mother, this is the equivalent of hell. We’re supposed to be there for our kids—always. When they get hurt or are upset, it’s us, their moms, who are supposed to be there.
But I wasn’t. And now, Grant is all alone in that OR with a staff of people he doesn’t know, and I feel—
“Sammy.”
My head jerks up. Noah is standing at the threshold of the room in baby-blue scrubs and a matching surgery cap over his thick, dark hair. And for some strange reason, his unexpected presence makes me want to cry more.