hands on his shoulders as she dragged him away from Wes’s gurney. Dr. Williams took over, running down a quick assessment. “His breathing and his pupils are sluggish, and his pulse is low. Has he regained consciousness at all since he was brought in?”
The flight physician shook his head.
“Where’s all this blood coming from? Anyone see any active bleeds?”
“We couldn’t find any,” one of the flight nurses said.
“Wes…” Justin pleaded. He tried to reach for him, tried to fight against Tammy’s hold. Wes looked so broken, so fragile. His chest rose and fell in fractional shudders. His hands dangled off the sides of the gurney, fingers limp and curled toward his palm.
“He might have internal bleeding. We’ve got to get him into the CT, now.” Dr. Williams nodded to the other nurses. “Let’s get him down to the ER. Michelle, page radiology as soon as we’re down. Tell them we have an emergency CT and X-ray coming to them. I also want neurology downstairs in twenty minutes. I want to know what kind of head trauma we’re looking at. Prep ICU, and have surgical on standby. All right, let’s move.”
They jogged for the vestibule, rolling Wes away. Justin tried to follow, but Tammy held him back. “You can’t be involved, Justin. You know the patient.”
“That’s Wes!” He fought against her, trying to shake loose. His vision was blurring, and his cheeks were wet. His throat, his lungs wouldn’t work. He wanted to call out to Wes, but he couldn’t make his brain and his vocal cords work together, couldn’t form the words he wanted to say.
His knees gave out and he sagged in Tammy’s arms, dragging her down with him as he sank to the concrete. Why? How? What had happened?
“You said that was Wes Van de Hoek?” Tammy crouched next to him, one hand on his wrist, holding on. “How do you know him?”
“Did you read the article this morning?”
“Is there anyone in this town who hasn’t?”
Justin cringed. “I’m his boyfriend.”
Tammy said nothing. She turned and stared into the night, over the cluster of office buildings in the center of their tiny downtown.
He ended up in the nurses’ lounge, torn between crying and wanting to flip the furniture. Tear the metal lockers apart with his hands. Break a chair over his thigh and hurl the pieces against the wall. He paced instead, unable to keep still as he waited for information.
Wes went into and out of radiology, into and out of the CT scanner and the X-ray machines. It became clear, quickly, that Wes wasn’t hit by a car. That his injuries came from someone. Or several someones. That he’d been attacked.
The university police were called. Justin knew the procedure. Wes was photographed and stripped, his clothes bagged, and swabs were collated from his knuckles and under his nails. He pictured Wes motionless on the hospital bed, eyes swollen shut, hands limp, his broken body dressed in a hospital gown that was too small for him.
“You’re done for the night,” Tammy told him. “You’re in no state to be dealing with patients.” He hadn’t even tried to argue. “Do you have someone to drive you home?”
“I’m not leaving,” he’d growled. “I’m staying here. I’m staying with Wes.”
Tammy had eventually gone back to work. Once Justin was alone, his thoughts tumbled, turned, grew thorns. Questions he didn’t have answers to rose in waves. What-ifs circled like sharks smelling blood. What if Wes was permanently injured? What if something irreplaceable had been taken from him?
What if he didn’t wake up?
After two hours without answers, Justin pulled out his cell phone and called his dad.
“Justin.” His dad picked up before the first ring ended. He sighed, a great woosh of air rushing over the line. “Jesus, Justin, why didn’t you pick up earlier? I’ve been so worried about you. That article—”
“Dad—” He couldn’t speak, couldn’t get any words out of his clenched throat. “Dad,” he tried again. His fingers dug into the wall as he struggled to stand. “Dad, it’s Wes.”
“What about him?”
Justin crumpled to the floor as his dad tried to talk him through his gulping sobs.
“Justin, breathe. Breathe. Talk to me. What happened to Wes? Where is he? Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital,” he forced out. “He was brought in by Life Flight—”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know! I think someone attacked him!” He screamed, covering his mouth with his hand. His eyes squeezed closed. He pitched forward, his face against his knees. “Dad, he hasn’t woken up…”