“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s Archer. There’s been an accident. I need to get to the hospital.”
“Oh my God. I’ll drive.” I snag the keys from her hand since I walked to work. We run to her car. I don’t even bother locking up. I don’t know what happened, but I saw the look on her face. It’s bad.
“What happened?” I ask once we’re on the road. I flip the windshield wipers to high and still I have a hard time seeing through the downpour.
“He got knocked off the boat. I told him so many times that it’s too dangerous of a job. After what happened to Mason, why would he not find a new profession?”
“Is he okay?” I need to know. I can’t wait until I’m at the hospital to find out he died.
“Yes. He was under so long, he passed out, and got a lungful of water, but he’s alive.”
“Thank fuck.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Pull up to the front.” She points and I park, ignoring the signs warning me it’s a no parking zone. I don’t give a shit.
We stumble through the front door and I get a flash of déjà vu. It wasn’t that long ago I was here for the other Warren sibling. I peer over at Sara, wanting to see how she’s holding up. She’s worried, it’s clear by her drawn together eyebrows and shaky hands, but there’s not even a hint of the blank expression she had the last time I saw her.
“My brother’s here. Archer Warren,” Sara barks at the registration desk.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”
“Please, can I just go back and see him?”
“Dr. Miller gave me instructions to come get him when you arrived.”
“Fine. Please hurry.”
I wrap an arm around Sara’s narrow waist and draw her to me. We stay locked in a hug until the door leading into the belly of the hospital opens. We break apart and see the handsome doctor approach.
“Sara, I wish we were meeting again under different circumstances.”
“How is he?” Sara ignores the pleasantries.
“He’s alive. Although he was near drowning when he was pulled from the water. It’s a miracle, really. Usually in situations like this, it’s a whole other conversation. Luckily, Oliver kept his head on straight and was able to find him floating near where Archer was knocked off the boat. He hooked him and pulled him up using the same equipment they use for the lobster pots. He immediately administered CPR and got him breathing. The coast guard met them and took over,” Lance explains.
“Can I see him?”
“He’s having some tests run, so give me a half hour. Then I’ll have him taken to a room and you can come back.”
“Okay.”
“He’s going to be fine, Sara. But are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, knowing full well that she’s in a fragile state.
“I am. I promise. Thank you, Dr. Miller. Not just for my brother, but for me, too.”
“Just doing my job. Sit tight. I’ll be back out soon.”
I lead her to the waiting area and we sit side by side. I didn’t notice as I walked in, but looking around, I spot Oliver. I don’t know the burly old man well, but I recognize his face. He sees us and approaches.
“Are you Sara?” he asks and she nods. “I’m Oliver. I work with Archer on the same boat.”
“You saved him.” She stands and hugs the man tight. He looks uncomfortable with the display and after a few seconds, pushes out of her hold.
“It was my fault he fell. I had to”—he pauses, looking uncomfortable—“well, I had to pee. I should’ve known he’d try and bring the pot in by himself. He’s pigheaded.”
She lets out a sad laugh. “He is.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry I let it happen on my watch.”
“Not your fault. Like you said, he’s pigheaded.”
“The doc said he’ll be okay, so I guess I’ll go. But would you mind having him let me know how he’s doing later so my wife doesn’t kill me for taking off? Hospitals make me itch.”
“I’ll make sure he does.”
Oliver’s eyes travel to me next. “You’re Kian, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” He hums and walks away.
What did that mean? I want to chase him down and ask, but it’s not the time or place.
Sara and I sit in silence until Dr. Miller comes back out.
“Okay, you can come back.”
We follow him to a hallway of closed doors. He pushes the latch on one and we all walk in. There in the middle of the room, looking too sizeable for the hospital bed, is Archer. His eyes are closed and he has a large bruise on his forehead.
His eyelids flutter open at the click of the door closing behind us. My stomach threatens to empty itself at the sight of the man I care so much for looking so injured.
“Hey, you.” Sara rushes over, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting the hand without an IV needle poking into it. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got tossed into the ocean and hit in the head with a hook,” he croaks out and Sara looks over at Dr. Miller.
“Oliver missed hooking his legs the first time and accidentally hit him in the head,” he explains.
“My leg isn’t anywhere near my head. The old man didn’t miss,” Archer jokes, but it sends him into a coughing fit.
I stay huddled by the door, not knowing if I should be here. There wasn’t even a question in my mind about coming back until I saw him. Then I remembered he’s not mine anymore and I don’t want to assume I belong.
“Don’t try and crack jokes,” Sara scolds.
“His tests came back mostly clear. We’re going to keep him overnight because he has a concussion and some fluid in his airways. We’re pumping him full of antibiotics so a bacterial infection doesn’t form and we’ll keep him on oxygen for a while,” Lance explains. “He’ll need to rest for a couple days, but then he’ll be good as new.”
“Thank you,” Sara says.
“I’ll be back before I head home to check on you.” Lance pats Archer’s leg and I want to smack his hand away. I don’t know what his deal is, he’s too new for me to know much, but I know I don’t like him touching my man.
Except he isn’t your man. I push that toxic thought right the fuck out of my head.
Archer’s eyes follow Lance as he leaves the room. His gaze stops on me and he notices me for the first time. I take a couple steps into the room.
“Hey, you. Did you like the service here so much that you had to come back, only as a patient this time? I promise you the food isn’t that great. I had my appendix out when I was thirteen and—”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, his voice throaty and painful sounding.
“I am, too.” I take a seat on the other side of his bed.
“Shit. It’s five. I need to go get the kids from Mrs. Porter.”
“I can go.” I offer.
“No, Sara should go,” Archer says. Sara’s mouth opens, but no words come out. “The kids will worry if suddenly Kian’s there and telling them I’m sick. They’ll feel better if it comes from you.”