Page 46 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

The doctor returned his attention to Robert. “Mr. Merrow’s case is far more serious, I’m afraid.”

Robert’s stricken expression tugged at Nate’s heart. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s in a serious condition, but he’s stable for now. Toby suffered a broken arm and trauma to the left side of his chest, sustaining multiple rib fractures down one side resulting in a flail chest. I’ll explain what that means and what we’re doing to help him.”

Robert’s face was the color of milk.

“‘Flail chest’? That sounds horrible.”

“It happens when multiple ribs—in Toby’s case, several—are each broken in two or more places. They showed up in the initial X-ray. That section of his rib cage has become unstable. It doesn’t move the way it should when he breathes.”

“He can’t breathe?” Robert’s voice quaked.

“He’s experiencing difficulty.” Dr. Ramirez spoke in a gentle tone. “That part of the chest wall actually moves in the opposite direction when he tries to take a breath. It’s called paradoxical movement, and it can make breathing very inefficient and painful.”

Nate was suddenly numb.

“We’ll do a CT scan, looking for internal bleeding and air escaping from his lung due to so many fractures.”

“Oh God.” Robert’s eyes widened. “Is he in pain?”

“Yes, but we’re managing it closely. We’ve given him strong pain medications, and depending on how he responds, we might use an epidural or other targeted treatments to keep him comfortable. Managing his pain is crucial. It allows him to take deeper breaths, which helps prevent complications.”

Robert’s sharp intake of breath sounded so loud in the small room. “What kinds of complications?”

“The biggest concern is pneumonia. When someone’s in too much pain to breathe deeply or cough properly, fluid and mucus can build up in the lungs. So we’re doing something called pulmonary hygiene. That’s a series of treatments that help clear his lungs and keep his airways open.”

“What treatments are we talking about?” Sol demanded.

“We’re using oxygen. We may use something called BiPAP.

That’s a type of non-invasive ventilation used to help patients breathe easier.

This helps to keep the airways open. We may need to use a ventilator for a time, to help him breathe while the trauma heals.

” He paused when Robert made a stricken sound. “I know, it’s a lot to take in.”

“Keep going, doctor. I need to hear all this.”

Teague placed his hand on Robert’s back.

“We’re suctioning to remove secretions from his airways. We’re also encouraging breathing exercises with a device called an incentive spirometer, and we’ll help position him to ease his breathing.”

Robert dropped onto a chair, his shoulders sagging. “Will he need surgery?”

Dr. Ramirez bit his lip. “Possibly. In some cases, we perform a procedure called surgical rib fixation, where we use plates or devices to stabilize the broken ribs. It can reduce the time he needs in the ICU and help prevent longer-term complications.”

Robert’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply. “How long will he be in the hospital?”

“It’s hard to say exactly, but it will likely be a while.

He’ll spend time in the ICU, especially if he needs a ventilator.

Recovery can take weeks or even months. Some people continue to have trouble breathing for some time after leaving the hospital.

Once’s he’s started to recover, he’ll need to perform some breathing exercises. ”

Robert’s breathing grew shallow. “Will he… I mean… could this be fatal?”

Dr. Ramirez’s grave expression sent Nate’s heart plummeting.

“Flail chest is very serious, and yes, it can be life-threatening. But Toby is getting aggressive treatment, and we’re doing everything we can.

Right now, he’s fighting.” He smiled. “And he’s holding on.

” He patted Robert on the arm. “All you can do right now is just be there for him. When he’s awake and stable enough, your support will mean everything.

So once you’ve seen him, get some rest if you can.

We’ll keep you informed every step of the way.

If anything changes, I’ll let you know immediately. ”

Robert swallowed once more. “Thank you, Dr. Ramirez. Please… just do whatever it takes.”

Dr. Ramirez smiled. “We will. He’s in good hands.” He gestured to the door. “Let me take you to them.”

They followed him out of the small room. Nate froze in the middle of the hallway, torn between two options.

Robert touched his arm briefly. “You and Sol go see Zeeb. Teague will come with me.” His skin was the color of ash, and he seemed to have aged ten years in the last five minutes.

Nate’s throat tightened. “If you’re sure.” Then Sol’s strong arm was around his shoulders, and Nate leaned into him.

A nurse emerged from one of the trauma rooms, and Dr. Ramirez addressed her. “Nurse Paton, these two gentlemen are here to see Mr. Nolan.”

“Certainly, doctor.” She pushed the door open, and Nate followed her into the room, pulling up short when he caught sight of the bed and its occupant.

The white overhead light cast a sterile glow over the hospital room, but it did nothing to soften the harsh reality of seeing Zeeb like this.

Except it didn’t look like Zeeb.

His hair was matted with sweat, his forehead streaked with the faintest residue of dried blood.

His face was bruised, his left eye nearly swollen shut, the dark purple discoloration creeping across his cheek like ink spilled on paper.

The sharp angles of his face were softened now by the swelling.

His lips were chapped, the skin stretched tight.

Even in sleep, there was no peace in his expression.

A slight frown furrowed Zeeb’s brow, as though the weight of the pain was still there, even when he was unconscious. There was no real comfort in his stillness. Zeeb’s body was stiff, but as Nate stared at him, a slight tremor ran through him.

“Oh God.” Sol’s strangled voice broke through Nate’s observation.

The doctor said he’d have extensive bruising.

Hearing it and seeing it were two different things.

His once vibrant, expressive face looked as if it had been broken.

The bruises on his jaw and neck were darker than anything Nate had ever seen, almost black, and the smallest shift of his head seemed to hurt him, as though the slightest motion pulled at everything that had been knocked out of place.

Hold it together , Nate told himself.

He walked over to the bed to stand beside it, the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only sound filling the space between them. He leaned over, gently brushing a few strands of hair from Zeeb’s forehead. It was a tiny gesture, but it felt like the most important thing in the world right then.

“Are you a relative?” Nurse Paton asked, her voice soft.

“No.” Nate gazed at Zeeb. “I’m a friend. A very good friend.”

He let his hand linger on Zeeb’s skin, a hesitant contact. The bruise under his left eye seemed to darken as the minutes spun out. The kind of bruise that could take weeks to heal.

Weeks of pain.

Nate could already imagine the future struggle, the way every movement would be a reminder of what happened.

Of how close Nate had come to losing him.

“Zeeb,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Wake up, okay? Just… just open your eyes.”

There was no response at first, nothing but the faint rise and fall of Zeeb’s chest beneath the white hospital blanket.

He looks so fragile. So small. A far cry from the Zeeb who usually strode with so much purpose, wearing that lopsided grin.

The Zeeb who’d filled Nate’s cabin with his laughter.

Then Zeeb’s fingers twitched, a movement so subtle Nate thought he’d imagined it. But there it was again, a little more, a slight squeeze.

The contact was enough to send a wave of relief rushing over Nate.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. He moved closer, his hand resting carefully on Zeeb’s, trying to be gentle despite the overwhelming urge to pull him into his arms and never let go. “I’m here, Zeeb. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zeeb’s head shifted ever so slightly, a grimace contorting his face. It was clear even this little movement hurt. The concussion, the swelling, the bruising… All of it was going to take time to heal. Time Zeeb needed to get back to being the Zeeb Nate knew.

Assuming such a thing was possible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated. The words didn’t cover a fraction of what he wanted to say, but right then, they were all he could manage. Zeeb’s fingers twitched again, as though he’d heard him.

Nate swallowed.

The words were enough for now.