Tears roll down my face, and I choke out, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Ryder, it’s all over the news already,” she says. “You need to get out of sight. Those assholes are snapping pictures of you. It’s all over the internet.”
I don’t give a shit what pictures they get of me, fighting cops and whatever else, but they will not disrespect Kailey. “I’ll kill the motherfucker who tries to publish a picture of Kailey like this.”
There’s a moment of silence between us. I’m sure Maggie can sense my rage, fists clenched, my desire to storm over to the photographers clicking away behind the police line.
“I understand,” she says calmly. “You need to be there for Kailey, your baby. Don’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
I draw a deep breath and look back toward the mangled mess that is her car. “She’ll want her family. Can you call them? I don’t want them seeing this on television without knowing what’s going on.”
“Already called them,” she says. “And I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“All I’ve done is try to protect her,” I cry. “Since we first met, that’s all I’ve tried to do. How could this happen?”
“This isn’t your fault,” Maggie says.
I’ve heard it all before. A strong wind whips over the scene, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air around me. “That’s what you always say.”
“One of these days, you’re going to believe me.”
“We were fighting,” I say, shame dripping off my tongue. “She left the house upset.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Maggie says.
“I heard it,” I say. “I was on the phone with her and heard the crash.”
“Ryder,” she whispers.
She is saying something else, but I see the officer heading back to me and hang up, mumbling something to Maggie that I’m not even sure made sense.
The elder officer relieves the younger one from guard duty and says, “They’re about to extract her from the car.” He places both his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s take a walk away from all this for a few minutes. You need a break, and let’s give them some room to work.”
My body becomes an immovable wall. I’m not sure where the energy comes from, but I don’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere until I know how she is.”
He squeezes my shoulders. “She’s breathing.”
“She’s alive?”
“Yes,” he says. “Let’s take that walk.”
“I want to be here when she . . .”
“She’s not conscious.”
“I still need to be here.”
“Son,” he says, “you don’t want to see her like this.”
“I don’t care what she looks like!” I shout, pushing my way past him, only to be frozen at the sight of her limp body being pulled from the wreckage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Some words live forever
Some we take to our grave
Ryder
She’s very lucky to be alive.
That’s what the emergency room physician said.
I’m sorry, the baby didn’t survive.
That’s what Dr. Myers said.
One dead, one alive.
I’m numb. My body feels like it’s asleep. Like when you sit in a weird position too long and your hand or foot falls asleep. You still feel it, know it’s there, but the full sensation is gone. And you know when it wakes up, it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker.
So right now, I’ll take numb. Numb is good. Numb allows me to sit here and wait. Numb allows me to put one foot in front of the other. But the pain is there, waiting. Always waiting.
I’m grateful Kailey is still breathing, but the loss of our child is devastating. If someone held a gun to my head and told me I had to choose between living and Kailey and our unborn child, I’d take the bullet. Easy. Every time.
There’s no choice. I’d die for them. I’d die to bring back our baby.
Time stands still in hospitals. I don’t know whether it’s day or night outside, or if it’s raining or bright and sunny. It doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to breathe.
I hate the smell of hospitals—it’s like something between cleaning fluid and medicine, mixed with heavy doses of sadness and death. The stench is all the more pungent in this small, private waiting room we are in, which has no windows and a single closed door to keep the press and other nosy fuckers out. It’s like being in a little vacuum without a hint of fresh air, where time doesn’t exist, only waiting, and wondering and hoping and praying.
The door opens and Maggie comes in, placing a box down on the table in the middle of the room. “Coffee and pastries,” she says, but no one moves a muscle for them.
No one has an appetite under these conditions. Addison, Clara, and Henry are all here. Owen stayed at home with Tinsley. Geoffrey’s here, too, and Maggie’s going in and out every hour or so to handle the press. Knox and Mae are overseas on their honeymoon, and I told them not to come.
Grief is something I do alone.
Maggie clears her throat, and everyone looks up at her. “It seems the other driver ran the light at the intersection,” she says. “It’s unclear why.” Maggie then looks at me, and I know she’s trying to tell me this isn’t my fault, but I know better. Kailey would’ve never been on the road if it wasn’t for me. Those paparazzi fuckers wouldn’t have been following her if it wasn’t for me. The other driver was surely distracted by that chaos. This is on me, all me.
The door opens, and Dr. Myers walks in. We all sit a little straighter and give him our full attention. Is this good news or more horrible news? His face is completely blank. Thankfully, he doesn’t wait a second longer before giving an update.
“I talked to the emergency room doctor. Her scans show no internal bleeding. She does have a concussion, broken arm, black eye, various cuts and bruises, but she should make a full recovery.”
The room exhales at the same time. She’s not going to die. She’s going to be okay. For the first time since this started, my heart finds a little relief and settles just a bit in my chest. “When can I see her?” I ask.
“Let’s talk first,” Dr. Myers says and sits down next to me.
He explains that because Kailey was already so far along in her pregnancy, they’d typically have her deliver the baby naturally. But given the circumstances, he performed a surgical procedure to remove the fetus.
I’m thankful Kailey didn’t have to deliver our dead child. I guess that’s some kind of sick, fucked up silver lining. But I know that’s not true. The silver lining is Kailey is going to recover, get better, be totally fine—physically, at least.
“The surgery went smoothly,” he continues. “Kailey should be able to get pregnant again. I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t have a completely normal pregnancy and delivery next time.”
Good news, but I just nod my head, holding in my emotions—until I can’t anymore. “A boy?” I choke out. “Kailey thought the baby was a boy.”