Loving Enough (The Enough Series Book 2) Page 2

  Tears fall from my eyes and I lean into Bode. My voice is shaky and wavers as I ask Dr. Bowen my biggest question. "So what does this all mean for J? Now, I mean?"

  Easing his long, lean frame back, Dr. Bowen crosses his legs and lets out a small sigh, one that has me on pins and needles. All manner of awful thoughts run through my mind. Will he be paralyzed? Will there be permanent damage? The thoughts strangle me and I have to focus on breathing. I focus on Austin’s touch to prevent the panic attack I can feel building. His hands are warm and his thumb continues to bounce across my knuckles. Dr. Bowen’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

  "As Dr. Beckley explained, the next 48 hours are crucial for Jeremy and that is even more accurate now. We assume this latest episode was simply his body taking a break after the turmoil it has been through today. We will continue to monitor him and proceed with heavy sedation for a few days."

  Trying to wrap my head around this new information, I am stunned into silence. There are so many questions rolling though my head and yet none of them seem to make it to my lips. I need to ask what the long-term plan is, what are the chances of a full recovery, what should we expect? My thoughts are suffocating. I need to breathe. I have to focus. I need more information.

  My questions abruptly stop spinning as I hear Austin address the doctor. "What should we expect short-term and long-term? Is there a chance of full recovery?"

  Unbelievably he has managed to ask the very questions I could not voice. Despite the hell I have put him through, here he is voicing my concerns. There is no doubt that Austin shares my worry over J to some capacity. Austin and J have found common ground, their love for me, and are building a strong bond. I would never consider being with a man who does not understand and accept my relationship with J. The crazy thing is that Austin just seems to accept it despite the fact he doesn’t know most of the story—the ugly history.

  Dr. Bowen uncrosses his legs and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He has an innate kindness in his dark brown eyes even if the green scrubs and surgical cap are a bit off-putting.

  "Well, Mr. Black, the truth is we don't know, and it is hard to speculate in situations like this." He rubs a hand across his stubble-covered jaw before continuing. "The good news is that Mr. Ash is young and is at the height of physical fitness, which should increase his odds quite favorably. The broken bones and bruises will heal in time and, with some therapy, he could be as good as new. The biggest question is how his brain responds. If the swelling goes down and we are able to avoid any other incidents, I am hopeful he will make a full recovery. But at this point, only time will tell."

  The doctor’s explanation does nothing to assuage my fears. All I heard was that there is a chance J might not recover. Brain injuries are unpredictable injuries. They have the capacity to ruin an otherwise perfectly healthy man’s life. This one could ruin my brother’s life. I try to pull my fears back. I have to keep them in check. I have to be strong. J needs me to be strong. He has to pull through this. My silent chant continues.

  As Dr. Bowen stands, we each shake his hand and thank him for all that he has done.

  He leaves us with one final piece of advice. "You should all go home and get some rest. Jeremy is not going anywhere tonight and visiting hours are over. This is going to be a long battle, so rest when you can. Come back in the morning. Visiting hours begin at nine."

  I glance up at Bode, who is ever so slightly shaking his head before letting out a half-hearted chuckle. "Thanks for the advice, doc, but if you think we can convince her to go anywhere you might need to have your head examined."

  Dr. Bowen smiles and nods his head in understanding. I cannot imagine that we are the first family unwilling to leave their loved one.

  There is no chance I will leave this hospital without J right next to me. One way or another he will recover. He has to. So we settle in for a long night in the unforgiving cold, hard, gray chairs and wait. He has to pull through this. Better yet, he will pull through this. I have to believe that. I refuse to consider any other option.

  Chapter 2

  Rylee

  Three days ago…

  It has been a week since the accident, the longest week of my life. I have not left the premises of Massachusetts General Hospital and my nerves are completely shot. The swelling in Jeremy's brain has subsided and the heavy sedation was stopped a few days ago, but he still has not come around. Why won't he just wake up?

  People come and go daily. I have seen J's teammates, friends, coaches, a few fans, the detectives, and Austin. Bode and Eric have been with me around the clock. When one of them is not here, the other is. I am truly grateful for their unwavering support. It is true that when the chips are down you find out who your true friends are. The only difference for me is that my friends are family. We may not be related or share any DNA, but we are a family nonetheless. Anyone in this hospital will attest to that fact.

  I can see the anguish and terror in both Bode and Eric, but they put on a brave face for me. They don't think I see the subtle exchanges, the questioning glances, and the tears they try to hide, but I do. I see right through them; they are in as much pain as I am. We are all doing our best to stay strong. Each of us are fighting our own inner battles as we pray that J is fighting his.

  We all give each other the best ‘stay positive’ vibes we can muster, but it is clear we are losing steam. We are a family in agony, on the verge of losing one of our own. J is the de facto head of this family and I don't know whether we would survive without him. That fact scares me almost as much as the fact that J hasn't woken up. We need him to be whole. He makes us all better people. He is our rock. He has to pull through this. We are hanging on by threads.

  I have set up a mock office in my brother's hospital room. After the first few days, I realized I would not do anyone any good if I didn't find something productive to do. Gabe brought me my laptop, my most important pending contracts, and a dose of reality. My little corner of the room is covered in paper, electronic chargers, and a few empty energy drink cans as well an ice chest holding full cans. It isn’t much, but it gives me break from the constant worry and uncertainty facing me right now.

  The draft is less than two weeks away and I have to find a way to prepare myself and my clients for the life-changing event. I read the contracts aloud to J, hoping they will bore him into coming to. It is my goal for him to wake up and tell me to shut up. Nothing would make me happier. Jeremy has never been a fan of the written word. In fact, he has suggested that the reason Hollywood was built was so that people no longer had to read. So, if he thinks regular books are boring these legal contracts must be torture to his ears. Please wake up already. Please come back to us.

  Besides work and the steady stream of visitors, I spend my days at J's bedside or roaming the halls. I think I have picked every lint ball off the blue blanket covering J's bed in a bid to keep my hands busy.

  Michelle showed me a wonderful place to relax and take a breath: the roof. When Bode or Eric sit with J, I come up to the roof to take in the peaceful scenic views of Boston and attempt to regroup. There is nothing up here, only a few steam vents and an asphalt ground covering, but it is quiet. There are no beeping monitors, or the sound of the air swooshing in and out of the specially designed mattress. The only sound up here is the occasional chirping bird or siren from an approaching ambulance. It is a little slice of serenity in my otherwise chaotic world.

  This past week has been brutal. I am desperately trying to take everything in stride and continue to believe he will wake up soon. However, there are times I am so overwhelmed I cannot think straight, and then the doubt seeps in, scarring my fragile soul.

  Austin comes by daily. I have avoided him on most occasions, except the times he brings Boss. I know he only brings the dog so I will see him and, as he hoped, it works. I want to see him. I want him to hold me, but I know if I allow it I will shatter. The glue holding my fragile world together would melt away as soon as I fell into his a
rms. He has the power to see through my carefully constructed facade. He will be able to feel my pain and I don’t want to burden him with that.

  Detective Ruzek has been by a few times and we have a plain-clothes officer assigned to us full-time. When Ruzek came by yesterday he said that they have a few leads and to stay vigilant. He hinted that it is possible the person responsible has been around the hospital.

  Ruzek appears to be struggling with the death of his partner. I believe he has developed tunnel vision for our case. I am thankful to have someone so dedicated trying to unravel this mystery, but I worry he needs time to process his loss. There is no telling a man he needs to deal with his emotions so, for now, I can only hope that he is working through his grief as he tries to uncover the identity of my stalker.

  Detective Ruzek made it clear that I was not to leave the ICU floor unaccompanied, so when I take a walk or head to the cafeteria an undercover officer shadows me. Yes, my life has become a strange version of a reality I thought was reserved for the silver screen. All I am missing is my leading man. And, God, do I miss him.

  It floors me that the person responsible for all of this could be one of the very people who have come to show their support. Of course, maybe they haven't been showing support but rather reveling in the destruction they have caused. Isn't that what the crazies in the movies do?

  The one thing I cannot understand is why a person who seems to want my affection is also hell-bent on destroying me. How could this person think I would want anything to do with them after what they have done? I haven't seen many movies where the girl takes off with the crazed stalker and I am positive I will not either. There is only one man in this world I want to ride off into the sunset with—Austin.

  The texts have continued to come in periodically, most commonly after Austin leaves for the day. The one clear message is that the mysterious person is jealous of Austin. The messages are always a reminder that I should choose the psycho over Austin or face the consequences. I have considered replying with a big ‘screw you’, but everyone around me says not to engage the nutjob. It feels like I have no control over my life anymore. I am left at the mercy of others and it sucks, plain and simple.

  Besides the guilt I feel over the accident, and the pain I am once again inflicting on Austin, I am pissed. I want to throttle the asshole behind this mess. He is trying to take everything away: my family, my friends, and Austin. I will be damned if we allow the lunatic to succeed. J and I have worked too hard to build our lives out of the ashes our parents left us for us to fall victim to some narcissistic whacko. It may appear that he is getting what he wants now, but I swear to all that is holy he will not win. I will not lose my family or Austin.

  I miss Austin. I miss his touch, his smell, his laugh, and I definitely miss his body. His daily visits break my heart, so I send Bode or Eric out to deal with him. He always brings dinner from one of my favorite restaurants along with a change of clothes and anything else he anticipates I might need. He leaves little notes in the dinners and sends sweet texts throughout the day to let me know he hasn’t given up. I long to fall back into him and pick up where we left off, but my guilt and protective instincts stop me.

  I know that none of this is his fault, any more than it is J's or mine, but I still harbor some misplaced anger. It gives me something to hold onto. It gives me the opportunity to feel something when I am otherwise numb. The numbness would fade into oblivion the second I allow myself near Austin. That man broke down the walls around my heart. He makes me feel alive and, right now, I want to remain numb to the ache that resides deep within my soul.

  I know J is fighting for his life, but I feel like I am right beside him. I am stuck in an eternal loop of despair waiting on things to change. I just want this to all end. I want him to wake up. I want to watch him play football, hear him laugh, see him smile, and tell me I am an idiot for pushing Austin away. I want my big brother back. I want Austin back.

  Chapter 3

  Rylee

  Present

  Today marks ten days since the accident. I woke up this morning feeling as if the world will finally offer some answers today. After a shower, and oh boy am I sick of hospital showers, I headed down to the cafeteria to get a bite to eat.

  Bode stayed behind with J and Gabe met me in the cafeteria so we could go over a few last-minute contract details. The breakfast options at the hospital are decent, so I choose a bacon and cheddar scone with a large coke to wash it down. It is not the healthiest choice, but I couldn't care less. Gabe sticks to coffee and a blueberry muffin. The draft is fast approaching. Gabe and I each go over what we have been working on, compare notes, and set our goals for the rest of the week. As of now, it looks like we will ready for New York with time to spare.

  I am so grateful for Gabe. He has kept my business afloat during my absence and maintained the utmost professionalism with the inquiries surrounding the accident and the rumors that have made their way into the headlines. The rumor mill has been churning out ridiculous stories since Austin and I were seen at the charity event together. One of the more recent sensational fabrications claimed Austin had tried to kill Jeremy because J didn’t approve of my relationship with the QB. If nothing else, the gossip rags are entertaining.

  Gabe and I have tentatively agreed on him becoming my partner. It will become official when I get a chance to draw up the formal partnership papers. However, in the meantime, Gabe has received the benefits and responsibilities of the position. I would be drowning without him. I am barely keeping my head above water even with all the help around me.

  After Gabe's departure, I call to confirm our hotel rooms in New York City for the duration of the draft and ask for a welcome basket to be present in Gabe's room when he arrives. It is still possible I will be absent from the big event if J does not come around soon. The thought of missing the draft and not being present for those I represent makes me uneasy, but the thought of not being here for J is unthinkable. Hopefully he will come back to us soon. He has to get through this.

  I skip the elevator and opt to take the stairs back up to the sixth floor. Depression and sadness hang in the air like deflated party balloons, slightly adrift and aimless. People waiting for news occupy every corner of the main waiting room on the first floor. Waiting is the hardest part. It prevents you from moving forward. It forces you to take a place in the ever-circling holding pattern, hoping for your call to land.

  In other areas, people are pushing wheelchairs. Many of their passengers appear to have given up. I keep telling myself there is no way J will ever give up. He can’t.

  When I arrive on the sixth floor and make my way down the long ICU hallway, passing several nurses as they go about their daily routines, I wonder how they work in a place clouded by death and despair. How can they go home at night and focus on anything but the sadness and loss they witness daily? I could not imagine such a job.

  Entering Room 624, I see that nothing differs from the last fifty times I crossed the threshold. Everything is the same. Bode looks up and smiles before returning to the seemingly endless supply of entertainment on his iPhone. I don’t know what he does on that thing but he remains glued to it hour after hour.

  I settle into the blue recliner next to the bed and pull out my laptop, determined to get through a little more work. Or I might just play games, who knows. As I get the cords unraveled, and the table situated, I hear a faint groan. My body stills.

  Looking at Bode I see that his eyes are wide and curious, telling me that he also heard the groan. My heart begins to race and I close my laptop. Bode and I break eye contact to turn our focus on the third person in the room.

  Another grunt shatters the silence and I jump out of the recliner, sending it toppling backward as I hover over his bedside. Could it be that J is finally coming back to us?

  Now hunched over the bed, staring intently at J, I see him shift his head on this pillow. My eyes clash with Bode’s as we watch our prayers being answered. J is moving. Oh
my God, he is actually moving. The movements are small and appear strenuous, but there is movement for the first time in what feels like forever.

  I take my brother’s hand into mine and rub gently, letting him know I am here. “J, hey. Are you with us?”

  He moans again and squeezes my hand, causing joy to explode within me. It was the faintest of gestures, but it set my world back on its axis.

  After a few minutes and several more grunts, the beautiful green eyes that match my own make their appearance. Confusion flashes through his eyes as he takes in his surroundings. The dull room with white walls, wooden doors, gray chairs, and a few blue accents is nothing to behold. After scanning the room, his gaze returns to me. I smile as he attempts to focus on my face.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  He motions to his throat, which I take to mean he needs water. Bode understands the nonverbal cue as well.

  “I will go grab the water and a nurse. You keep him awake,” he says as he walks out of the door with a newfound rejuvenation. Just seeing J open his eyes has offered both of us immediate renewal.

  J wiggles around in the bed, noting the extent of his injuries. Unable to use his left arm, he awkwardly struggles to sit up. I grab the bed remote to raise the bed before gripping his good hand and allowing him to pull himself into the position of his choice. His strength is a fraction of what it was pre-accident, but treating him as if he’s helpless will no doubt get me tossed from the room.

  Once he is settled, he asks with a heavy rasp, “What happened?”

  The pleading and confusion in his eyes hurt my heart, but it cannot dampen my inner smile because in this moment nothing could. He is awake.

  The doctors recommended that we don’t feed Jeremy any information so they can form a clear picture of his recovery. Without giving away too much, I simply tell him he was in an accident and has been in the hospital for several days. My noncommittal answer seems to appease him.