I’m also still warm.
“We’re doing our best to keep him comfortable. He’ll have a raging headache from the hematoma?—”
“The brain bleed.”
“Right.”
Ava’s voice trembles a little when she replies, “That sounds so serious.”
“We’re monitoring it, along with his respiratory function. So far, everything is looking really good. Going forward, he’ll need to be careful moving around with those fractured ribs. The stitches in his lip and that nasty bruise from the seat belt will definitely cause him some discomfort, but again, we’ll do our best to keep him in a good place.”
“Thank y’all so much.”
“He’s doing great, Ava. And so are you.”
“Coffee is my new best friend,” she says with a laugh.
You’re my best friend, I try to say. Instead, I make this weird rasping sound that scrapes the sides of my throat raw.
“Sawyer? Sawyer, honey, are you awake?”
God, I love it when she calls mehoney.
Prying my eyes open, I blink at the sudden onslaught of light. Late afternoon sun slants through a room with white walls and a tiled ceiling. A heart monitor beeps from somewhere behind the bed I’m lying in.
Christ, my head hurts.
My gaze meets Ava’s. When I take in the purple circles around her bloodshot eyes and the crease in her forehead, my stomach dips.
“Hey, cowboy.” She blinks, sniffling, and arcs her thumbs over the back of my hands. “How are you feeling?”
I try clearing my throat and end up croaking, “Like hell.”
“Oh, Sawyer, I’m so sorry. I was—we’ve all been—” Ava blows out a breath. “Worried.”
“How long have you been here?”
She grins, tears leaking out of her eyes. “The question you should be asking is how longyou’vebeen here.”
“Is the answer the same?”
“Yeah.” Rolling her lips between her teeth, she nods. “A little over twenty-four hours. I know you’re in good hands here, and that you’re going to be okay?—”
“That’s good to know.” I chuckle, then immediately wince at the pain in my side.
“But I couldn’t leave you. Cash and Mollie have the girls and kept them overnight while you were in the ICU. Your brothers are taking turns coming to check in on you.”
“I’m fine.” I try to sit up a little, but my arm gets tangled in a tube that—fuck me—appears to be attached to my side.
“You’re not, though.” Ava gently presses me back down against the pillows. “That’s the chest tube they had to insert to help you breathe. You have three fractured ribs, a punctured lung, a busted lip, and a brain bleed, which you got when you flipped your car to avoid hitting some pedestrians.”
My heart hiccups. “They’re okay? I didn’t hit them?”
“You didn’t hit them, no. Everyone is fine. A little shaken up, but otherwise fine.” Her expression softens. “How like you to ask about them first. You’re going to be fine too, even if you don’t feel particularly wonderful at the moment.”
Eyes burning, I let out a hot, short breath through my nose, because using my lungs fucking hurts.
“Thank God everyone is okay,” I manage. “That could’ve been—yeah, a real tragedy. I can’t imagine if I had—” My voice catches.
