Page 2 of Knox (Comeback Duet #2)

CREW

I peeled out of the complex, barely checking to see if any cars were coming. My gaze was locked on the road; my hands were clenched around the steering wheel. I couldn’t think past the pulse hammering in my ears and the words Mallory’s mom had sobbed into the phone.

“Mallory was in a car accident. A head-on collision.”

Every red light felt purposely rigged to keep me from getting to the hospital quickly. Even though Mallory was in surgery, I had to be there when she got out.

Needed to be there.

Grady was probably curled up with Knox on the couch, unaware of what was happening.

He didn’t know his mom was hurt and might not come home.

All I could think about was how I’d explain it to my boy if a doctor walked in and told me she was gone.

How I’d take something that heavy and turn it into words a four-year-old could understand, knowing it would crush him.

I tried to think about the good times instead of what I might walk into.

I pictured her, sixteen years old, sporting her black Converse and chipped purple nail polish, laughing so hard at one of my bad jokes that she snorted Sprite through her nose.

My memory shifts to us in the college library, her cocooned in one of my hoodies while pretending to study with me.

She used to underline the dirty words in her psych textbook just to make me lose focus.

I chuckled as I remembered some, like “erectile dysfunction” and “penile plethysmograph.” That was the version of her I clung to as I drove, not the one of her unconscious on an operating table.

Finally, I turned into the hospital entrance and whipped my truck into a parking spot. Throwing it into park, I hurried out of the cab and jogged through the glass doors.

“I’m looking for Mallory Wade,” I told the woman at the front desk. “She was in a car accident and brought in by an ambulance.”

“Are you family?”

“I’m her roommate,” I lied. “I got a call that she was in an accident and is in surgery. Can you tell me if she’s okay?”

She clicked through a few things on her screen, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t share that information unless you’re on her emergency contact form or she gave us prior authorization, which isn’t possible given how she came in.”

“I am. I have to be. She lives with me. She puts me down for everything.” Another lie, but the way my voice cracked made her pause.

“Sir, I understand you’re worried. But I can’t help you.”

I looked past her toward the door I knew would get me farther into the hospital.

I was hoping a doctor or a nurse would come out.

Anyone who could tell me if Mal was okay.

Eventually, I took the only empty seat, which was next to a woman in a medical mask who coughed every few seconds.

It was all I could think to do because I couldn’t leave.

Minutes passed until a nurse stepped out of the door. Our eyes locked, and then hers widened. “You’re Crew Stratton.”

I stood. “Yeah.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You play for the Seawolves.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Do you think you can help me?”

She blinked. “Help you?”

I motioned for her to step away from the other people. “The mother of my son was in a car accident. I just need to know if she’s okay. She has no family here except me and our son. Her mom is coming from Tennessee but won’t be here for several hours.”

The nurse’s expression softened. “Let me go see what I can find out. What’s her name?”

“Thank you so much. Her name is Mallory Wade.”

The nurse turned and went back through the door, while I stayed put.

When she returned a couple of minutes later, she said, “It looks like she’ll be one of my patients in ICU.

She made it through the first part of surgery.

Sounds like it’s a pretty severe TBI, and they may need to put her in a medically induced coma to keep things stable and manage the swelling in her brain.

If that happens, it could be a few days before there’s any sign of improvement. ”

My stomach turned over.

Traumatic brain injury.

A coma.

This wasn’t happening.

“Is she—will she ...”

The nurse put her hand on my arm. “They’re doing everything they can.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, thank you.”

She bit her bottom lip and then asked with a nervous smile, “Could I maybe get an autograph?”

“Of course. Thank you again for your help.”

She handed me a pen from her pocket and a small notepad. I scribbled my name across the first page and handed it back to her.

“Is there somewhere I can wait while she’s in surgery?” I asked, not wanting to go back and sit near the lady who was clearly sick.

The nurse thought for a moment. “Well, there’s the surgery waiting room, but also, I know of a quiet spot just past the family waiting room through the main entrance. Staff sometimes use it on breaks. You can sit there for a bit.”

“Thank you.”

Once I found the room, I took the seat farthest from the door. As I sat there, my thoughts turned to Grady and how I’d explain why I took off so quickly. He probably thought I had run out for dinner or something.

If Mallory didn’t wake up, I’d be the one Grady looked to when he asked where his mom was.

When he asked when she was coming back. I would be the one to help him understand she never would.

It would gut me to see him waiting by the window, thinking she might pull into the driveway like always.

I could picture him curling into my side at night and crying because she wasn’t there to say goodnight.

If she didn’t recover, I wasn’t sure I would know how to help him.

And I didn’t want to imagine a life without her in it.

Didn’t want to explain that world to our son.

The hours I spent waiting blurred together.

I kept picturing her the last time I had seen her as she headed out for the spa weekend Knox and I had gifted her, promising she’d turn off her phone and enjoy the alone time.

We had pushed her to go because she deserved the chance to breathe, to have a weekend where she wasn’t juggling everything at once.

Plus, with spring training in Arizona starting in a month, I wouldn’t be around much until the season started, and only when we were on a homestand.

But even then, the season was long, and my time helping with Grady would be limited.

The more I thought about everything, the more I realized that if we hadn’t pushed her to go, she wouldn’t have been on the road. And now she was fighting to live because of something that was supposed to make her feel better.

My phone dinged with a message, and I pulled it out to see it was a text from Knox:

Any update?

I typed back:

All I know is she’s still in surgery but may be put in a medically induced coma. How are things there?

Fuck. That’s horrible. We’re good here though. Had some dinner and now we’re watching a movie. Is there anything I can do?

No but I can’t leave her here alone

Understandable

And looks like you’ll be doing bedtime after all. Give little man a hug and kiss from me

Will do. Love you

Love you too

About an hour later, the nurse from before peeked her head into the room. Once she saw me, she walked over. “She made it through surgery and is stable, but they did put her into a medically induced coma because of the swelling in her brain.”

I swallowed. “Can I see her?”

The nurse hesitated. “Sure, but only for a minute.”

I followed her down the corridor. My shoes squeaked against the polished floor, echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway.

When we got to the room, I stopped just inside the doorway.

Mallory barely took up half the bed. A ventilator tube was taped to her mouth, while the machine beside her hissed with every breath it forced into her lungs.

IV lines snaked from her arms, and a thick bandage encircled her head.

Her left arm was in a cast, elevated slightly by a rolled towel, and I could see dark bruises along her cheek and jaw.

The thin hospital gown had shifted just enough for scrapes along her collarbone to show.

Only a few hours ago she was laughing, and now, as I looked at her, the thought that she might never wake up knocked the breath right out of my chest.

I walked over to her and clasped her hand with mine.

“The doctors are hopeful the swelling will go down enough so they can lower the anesthesia and she’ll wake up on her own, but it’s too early to tell,” the nurse explained.

I nodded, not able to say anything because what was there to say? It was up to Mallory.

“Is there any way I can stay in the room with her?” I asked.

The nurse started to shake her head.

“Please,” I begged. “I’m all she has until her mom gets here. If something were to happen—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

If she didn’t wake up, if this turned into something worse, Mallory deserved more than to slip away in a room without family beside her.

She needed someone who knew her. Someone who had memorized her laugh, someone who had shared years of history with her, who had been there for the good and the bad, who loved her as more than the broken body lying in that bed.

I needed to stay because she mattered.

And because even if nothing official said it, we were a family.

Grady deserved to know someone had stayed with his mom. That she hadn’t been alone. That no matter what, Mal was loved.