Family Ties - Debi V. Smith Page 0,137

in their medical packets.”

I return to my seat next to Tommy and slip Jason’s jacket on. I wrap it tight around my torso and lean back as I close my eyes, pretending his jacket is really him holding me close, keeping me safe.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

A gentle shake of my shoulder jolts me awake. My eyes fly open and I sit up. I scan the room, forgetting why I was sleeping on a chair.

“Sara,” a voice next to me says. Tommy. “They’re moving J.”

I jump up. “Where?” I remember I’m at the hospital because Mandy hit Jason with a bat.

“MICU.” He rises from his seat. “And those officers are here.” He points to the corner. “They want to take our statements. They already took Derek’s.”

I survey the near-empty room with more scrutiny now that I remember where I am and why. “Where is everyone?”

“Alana and your dad are upstairs. Coach and the rest of the guys left. Only four people are allowed in the room at a time.”

I stretch Jason’s jacket around me. The frigid air conditioning makes the room feel like the Arctic. “What did they say about Jason?”

“They can’t find anything, so they say it’s a concussion. He’s still unconscious so they want him where they can treat him quickly if they need to.”

Can’t find anything. I’ll take that as good news. But a low thrumming vibration inside gives me a terrible feeling of foreboding and heightens the anxiety. I can’t shake it.

The officers separate us and take our narratives of the incident. “What’s going to happen now?” I ask Short Officer, sidling my ring up and down my finger.

“She’ll be arraigned in the morning and the judge will decide if she gets bail or not. If you are saying she intended to kill him, she may remain locked up especially since she was combative during booking.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, ma’am. We have your contact information if we have any more questions. I’m sure the D.A.’s office will be contacting you, as well.”

It’s like I’m a court magnet. Or was that freak magnet? I think they go hand in hand, each drawn to the other with compelling force.

We take the elevators up to Jason’s floor and one of the nurses points us to his room.

The door slides open upon our approach. The room is stark white, even in the dim lighting, making its sterility known to all who enter. In case the antiseptic odor isn’t telltale enough. A bay of windows shows the adjacent nurses’ station. Jason lies on the bed in the middle of the room, hooked up to an overhead monitor, one of several pieces of equipment hanging from swinging arms above the bed.

My heart sinks into the churning blackness the thrumming created at the sight of him.

I did this to him. I’m the reason for him lying in this intensive care unit. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be at his dorm with the guys. Safe. Sound. Smiling. Laughing. Holding me. Kissing me.

A violent shudder hits me and tears flash in my eyes. Tommy slides an arm around me and holds me in close.

I focus on breathing to keep myself from imploding. In. Out, two, three, four, five. In. Out, two, three, four, five. In.

Alana sits next to the bed with Jason’s hand nestled between hers. Dad vacates his seat on the other side of the bed and insists I take it. He and Tommy sit in the corner and talk in a murmur.

I take Jason’s hand in both of mine, bringing it to my lips as I place my elbows on the bed. “Tommy told me the basics. Is there anything else I should know?” I whisper.

“Just that you may have saved him from more injury. The doctor told me about you catching him before his head could hit the ground. That was incredibly fast thinking and brave, Sara.”

“I wasn’t even thinking. I just reacted. One minute we’re fighting and the next he’s falling right in front of me. I was horrified. I just wanted to protect him.”

“They couldn’t find evidence of skull fractures or intracranial hemorrhaging. Bleeding inside the skull,” she explains in non-medical speak. “I’m pretty sure there would have been both if his head hit the pavement. If Mandy really was trying to kill him, she’s not as strong as she thinks. He does have a nasty hematoma, a bruise.”

I twine my fingers through his and keep his hand sandwiched between mine. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Honey, you can’t blame yourself for

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