Page 121 of Theirs for the Holidays

I have to admire how calm and collected he is in a crisis. It’s obvious he’s worried, but instead of wasting time fretting about what’s happening, he’s keeping things moving, taking over ushering us along without invalidating our feelings or getting angry that I’m freaking out.

I wish I could be cool-headed like that.

I keep a hold of Rhett’s good hand as we drive to the hospital, watching as Rhett goes in and out of consciousness. His head lolls to one side, but he snaps awake a second later, frowning around him like he has to remember where he is.

I squeeze his hand, my heart in my throat.

As soon as we pull up to the hospital, Lennox and I get Rhett out while Sawyer goes to park the car. We rush to the ER, and I start explaining to the nurse behind the desk what happened.

“Does he have a concussion?” she asks me.

“I’m not sure. He’s been in and out, and it looks like he’s forgetting where he is? He just seems disoriented.”

She eyes the wound on his head and the way he’s holding his arm and nods.

“We’ll take him right back.”

She calls something in over a PA system, and someone comes around with a wheelchair a minute later. They bundle Rhett into it and then wheel him down the hall.

I know he’s safe here, but something about him not being in my sight anymore makes my anxiety spike something awful.

Before I can start to spiral, Lennox takes my hand and pulls me over to the waiting area to sit down.

“They’ve got him,” he murmurs to me. “He’ll be fine.”

Sawyer comes in and we tell him what happened.

“Nothing to do but wait, I guess,,” he says, settling in on my other side in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

A few minutes later, a nurse comes out. “Are you all here with Rhett Sullivan?” she asks.

I’m on my feet in a second. “Yes. Is he okay?”

“We’re still checking him over,” she says kindly. “Are you family?”

“I’m his brother,” Lennox says, striding forward.

“Oh, good. We need someone to fill out some forms and answer some questions.”

“I’ll do it.” He turns to Sawyer and gives him a look, and whatever Sawyer sees there makes him nod.

I sit back down heavily, resigned to the fact that there’s nothing more we can do but wait. It feels bad though. There’s a heaviness in my chest, and every time someone comes around the corner, my heart leaps, wondering if it’s going to be a doctor or nurse with news. Whenever they go on their way, not so much as glancing at Sawyer and me, my heart sinks again.

“Is this one of those situations where no news is good news?” I ask Sawyer, looking up at him.

“It’s always hard to say,” he admits. He takes my hand, holding on to it tightly, and I squeeze back, trying to take comfort in his closeness.

“I just wish… I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t suggested coming here today.”

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t do that. We were all on board, and you had no way of knowing. This isn’t your fault.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, but it’s hard to make my brain hold on to that thought when it’s trying not to spiral with worry.

“Violet,” Sawyer says firmly, turning to face me in his chair. “Rhett’s going to be fine. He’s a big, strong guy, you know?You’ve seen him out there, swinging that axe around chopping wood. Being a little banged up isn’t going to stop him for long. The real problem is going to be getting him to agree to take it easy while he heals.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right. When he was eleven or so, he broke his leg riding his bike down that big hill on the edge of town. You know the one I mean?”