I hadn't had my phone.
Guilt and worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe.
"Eva."
He put his arm around my shoulders, urging me to rest my head against him.
"Don't worry until we know more."
"It's been days, Gideon.
And I wasn't here."
Tears poured down my face and wouldn't stop, even after we arrived at the hospital.
I barely registered the exterior of the building, my attention dulled by the hard driving anxiety pounding through me.
I thanked God for Gideon, who was so calm and in control.
A staff member provided the number of Cary's room, but his helpfulness ended there.
Gideon made a few middle-of-the-night phone calls that got me access to see Cary, even though it was well outside visiting hours.
Gideon had been a very generous benefactor at times and that wasn't easily dismissed or forgotten.
When I stepped into Cary's private room and saw him, my heart shattered so completely, my knees went weak.
Only Gideon kept me from falling.
The man I thought of as my brother, the best friend I'd ever had or ever would have, lay silent and unmoving in the bed.
His head was bandaged and his eyes blackened.
One of his arms was stuck with intravenous lines, while the other was in a cast.
I wouldn't have recognized him, if I hadn't known who he was.
Flowers covered every flat surface, cheerful and colorful bouquets.
There were balloons, too, and a few cards.
I knew some would be from my mother and Stanton, who were certainly paying for Cary's care as well.
We were his family.
And everyone had been there for him but me.
Gideon led me closer, his arm tight around my waist to hold me up.
I was sobbing, the tears flowing thick and hot.
It was everything I could do to remain silent.
Still, Cary must have heard me or sensed me.
His eyelids fluttered, then opened.
His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused.