“Nanna, we need to get going if we’re going to make your appointment on time.”
Getting my grandmother anywhere on time required a lot of patience and sometimes some bribing. The memory loss was getting worse by the day, and she didn’t like to leave her house for any reason.
Today’s doctor appointment was an important one. We would be making the decision on whether or not we should place Nanna in a special Alzheimer’s residence where she would receive around the clock care and the aid of experienced healthcare professionals with specialized Alzheimer’s training. The home was geared toward patients with memory loss and it had a high retention rate.
I had resisted this change for months now because it made me nauseous. What kind of traitor put their beloved grandmother in a home no matter how nice? I really wanted Nanna to stay in her own home for as long as possible. I had lived with her for so long that I felt guilty for putting her in someone else’s hands.
My parents had finally convinced me that it was for the best but when had they ever known the best for anyone, like me? After the wedding, my mother had a long talk with me about how it was time for me to live my own life. I wouldn’t be able to do that and care for Nanna. With my budding relationship with Ashton, and our future plans to move in together, I felt it was time to find an appropriate place for Nanna. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“I don’t know why we have to go to that doctor again. Your dad doesn’t like the nurses. They also hurt him when drawing blood. Am I getting my blood drawn again? You know how much I hate needles.” My Nanna put her cardigan around her frail shoulders. “And it’s always so cold at that office. Why do they have to keep the exam rooms cold like a meat locker?”
This was my Nanna’s way of stalling. She would start complaining and throwing a fit if she didn’t want to go to a certain destination. It was going to take some cajoling to get her in the car so we could be on our way.
“This is just a medical checkup Nanna,” I soothed. “No one is going to stick you with a needle. I promise.”
She looked at me through narrowed eyes and clucked her tongue.
“We’ll go to Olive Garden afterwards.” I bribed her with her favorite place to eat lunch. Bread sticks and the endless salad bowl.
“Last time I ate there it gave me heartburn,” she muttered while grabbing her purse.
“Where do you want to eat?” I asked. Anything to get her in the car and on our way. “Your choice and my treat.”
“Ed’s Diner. They have the best cheeseburgers. And a chocolate shake with extra whipped cream. And a cherry. It’s not the same without a cherry.”
“Nanna, we can’t go to Ed’s,” I said in a calm tone. “Remember? They closed down after the hurricane.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration. This is what she did when she couldn’t remember particular things. Ed’s Deli had been a favorite place to dine when my grandfather was alive. It had been closed for eight years. This was going to be a doozy of a day.
“Hurricane? Why we haven’t had storm in a long time,” Nanna argued, opening her eyes.
“We’ll talk about it in the car. We have plenty of time to decide where to eat.”
After I got Nanna situated in the car, we headed for the doctor’s office. Summer in this coastal town was already in full swing. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, the main highway was always congested. As we came to a red light, I decided to get off the highway and take the back roads to the doctor’s office. When I was halfway into the turn, I saw a landscaping truck in my peripheral vision. It was barreling through the light heading straight toward our car and there was nowhere to go.
Crash!
The steering wheel jerked out of my hands.
Crunching metal, breaking glass, and screams filled my ears. Before I lost consciousness the last thing I saw through my swollen eyes was my grandmother’s face covered in blood.
* * *
“I think he’s waking up,” a voice said quietly.
I tried to open my eyes, but even a sliver of light hurt my head too much. I felt a hand on mine. More quiet voices in the background. What the hell had happened? And why was my head hurting so bad? My whole body felt numb. Like I’d been hit by a truck. Then I remembered. I had been hit by a truck.
“I’ll get the doctor,” another voice said.
“Doctor?” I tried to speak. The dryness scratched my throat in the attempt. “Where - am?”
“It’s okay, honey.” A soft hand stroked mine. A familiar voice tickled my ear. “You’re going to be okay,” the voice soothed. “The doctor is coming.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’m here.” More quite voices and the shuffle of bodies.
I closed my eyes and let the warmth take me back under. Sometime later, a deep, male voice woke me.
“Quinn? This is Doctor McNulty. Can you open your eyes for me?” This time a strong, commanding tone.
My eyes felt gritty like sandpaper had scrubbed my eyeballs clean. I tried opening them. My vision was blurry. I blinked several times.
“That’s good. Very good.”
More murmuring voices.
“Where…” I couldn’t get all the words out. My throat was on fire.
“You’ve been in accident, honey,” my mother’s voice came through again. “But you’re going to be okay.”
“Accident?” I tried to focus on my mother’s voice.
“Yes, you’re at Sacred Heart Hospital. You’re going to be okay,” she said in a reassuring voice. “You’re going to be okay, honey.”
My whole body ached. My head hurt. I felt a weird sensation in my lower half of my body.
I faded out again. Too much. Too much too soon.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashton
I willed the car to go faster.
“Can we hurry?” I asked the taxi driver again.
“Not unless you want to pay the speeding ticket lady,” he shot back in a gruff tone.
“Buddy, you think I care about a speeding ticket?” I argued. “Whatever it takes. My boyfriend is in the hospital and I need to get to him as soon as possible.
“If I go any faster we both may end up in the hospital too. We’ll be there in ten minutes tops,” he assured me. “Calm the hell down.”
I laid my head back and allowed my eyes to flutter closed for a few seconds. When Quinn’s mom had called and said he’d been in an accident, I had been at work. Quinn had been driving his grandmother to an appointment earlier in the day. Mrs. Andrews had explained that a commercial truck sideswiped the Mercedes. His grandmother didn’t make it. She had passed within a couple of hours after the accident. Quinn was still in and out of consciousness and in critical care.
Henri offered up his private jet to fly me down so I’d made it to Florida in less than three hours. It felt like a snake of fear had constricted my throat. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding for hours. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost Quinn. Especially after everything we had been through.
Please hurry, please hurry.
I prayed for the congestion to open up and allow the taxi through, for time to stand still so I could get to the hospital on time.
“Relax lady, we’re almost there.” The cab driver turned off the highway and I could see Sacred Heart Hospital in the distance. As the three-story brick building got closer, my anxiety shifted into overdrive, and worry flowed over me. Would I make it on time? What if Quinn had taken a turn for the worse? I checked my phone for messages. Nothing. Surely, that was a good sign?
Glass half full, Ashton. That’s the kind of girl you are. I told myself over and over that Quinn would be okay. I willed it to be true. He had to be okay. We didn’t just go through all of this, finding each other again after ten years, and realizing that we were made for each other, for Quinn not to pull through this tragic accident.
“Where do you want me to drop you off?” the driver asked, pulling into the parking
area.
“Front entrance is fine,” I said, throwing three twenties over the glass partition. “Thanks, keep the change.”
I grabbed my bags and rushed through the front sliding glass doors. My heart pounded out of control along with my frantic panting. An elderly lady manned the receptionist desk and I quickly asked her for directions to the ICU floor. She pointed to a nearby bank of elevators and I yelled ‘thanks’ over my shoulder as I hopped on an open car, bags trailing behind me.
Pressing a button for the fourth floor I blew out a breath. I was so frazzled that I didn’t realize someone else was in the elevator with me.
“Ashton?” a voice called out.
I turned to find Mr. Albertson standing next to me.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Albertson. I didn’t see you…”
He laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I just came in from outside. I needed to get a breath of fresh air. I saw you get out of the cab and held the elevator for you.”
Trying to stay calm and steady my nerves, I asked, “How is he?”
He gave my shoulder a squeeze as my heart thudded against my chest. “The doctor’s just met with the family. He’s conscious now and they think he’s going to pull through okay.”
A flood of relief coursed through my body and a tear of joy slid down my flushed cheek. “Thank God.”
“There are some pretty bad injuries, plus a question of how damaged his brain was by the impact. I’m sure the doctor can explain it better than I can. Quinn still needs our support and prayers more than anything.”
It was all I could do to shake my head and stem a stream of tears from falling down my face. Quinn was still alive. I would take that. One day at time. We would get through this together. I vowed then and there not to leave his bedside until he was out the woods.
“You know that boy really loves you,” Albertson continued.
“I know,” I nodded, keeping words to a minimum. The lump of emotion in my throat didn’t allow for more. “I feel the same.”
“Good. I think you two make a great couple,” Albertson said, not letting go of my shoulder. A solid pressure of compassion. “And I don’t want you to worry about anything else right now.” The elevator screeched to a stop and the doors opened. He took my hand and guided me down the hallway. “Now let’s go see him.”
* * *
Mr. Albertson had warned me about Quinn’s physical condition but that hadn’t really prepared me for the overwhelming feelings of helplessness when my eyes saw him lying frail and battered between the metal rails of his bed. Wires and lines snaked around limp arms and an oxygen mask covered most of his swollen face. So many bruises and so much crusted blood covered his face he wasn’t recognizable.
I hovered at his bedside while Albertson spoke in low tones to Quinn’s parents. After a few moments, I realized we were alone.
“Quinn, it’s me. Ashton,” I said, remembering that patients can still hear you when they’re unconscious. I pulled an orange, vinyl chair up next to his bed and sat down. Reaching down to grab his hand, I stroked the inside of his cold, clammy palm. “I got here as soon as I could.”
No signs that he heard me but that was to be expected. His mom indicated that he had been in and out of consciousness since they brought him back from another CT scan. They were checking for swelling on the brain. So far, the medication they had him on was working and the swelling was subsiding, releasing the pressure in his skull. However, there was the matter of his left leg as well. It was severely damaged during the accident. Doctors weren’t hopeful it would recover and they discussed amputating it below the knee.
My time in ICU with Quinn wasn’t nearly enough. The doctor only gave each of us fifteen minutes every hour to visit and an exception had been made for me because I technically wasn’t family. Rest was imperative so the medication could do the intended job and continue to decrease the swelling. I wanted to use my short time to tell him how much I loved him. If he’d only open his eyes, even for a moment, I could say the words. In the meantime, I hoped he knew that I was here with him. And I wasn’t going to leave his side again. Ever.
This afternoon, I sat still in my favorite orange cushioned vinyl chair and called his name in a voice just above a whisper. I heard nothing in response but the beeping of the heart monitor. As I glanced out the window at the palm trees swaying on the ocean breeze, a movement caught my eye. Quinn’s eyelids had fluttered!
“You had me very worried,” I soothed as I continued to stroke his icy hand. “But your mom said you’re going to pull through just fine, baby. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”
Quinn squeezed my hand without much strength. I almost missed it at first.
“I’m going to stay here as long as it takes. I’m not leaving here until you get out of this place.”
He gave my hand another light squeeze as tears flowed down my face. His eyes never fully opened but at least he was aware of my presence. I took a moment to say a prayer for him. I pleaded with God to heal Quinn and also to thank Him for giving us another shot at love.
I sat there holding his hand and talking to Quinn for another fifteen minutes when the nurse kicked me out of the room. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
The rehab center was unusually quiet when I arrived. Normally, a flood of activity buzzed around me. Since getting out of the hospital, I’d been going to physical therapy four times a week. I’d lost the lower half of my left leg in the car accident. But that was nothing in comparison to the loss of my Nanna. And I’d killed her. I hadn’t really grieved her loss or the loss of my limb.
The doctor had said something about severe tissue and nerve damage but it just sounded like white noise in my ears. I had a prosthesis fitted for my leg, the best that money could buy, used by Paralympic athletes. Getting the computer to sync with my normal activities required regular physical therapy to gain my strength and use of that leg back.
I had also suffered major brain damage due to my head hitting the back of the seat. Luckily, my swelling had gone down quickly and I was left with minimum residual effects like short-term memory loss and the ability to recall certain words. The doctors had assured me that with weekly physical therapy I would get better. I knew that I had a long hard road to recovery, but I was determined to heal.
Basically, I was a fucking wreck. Not a man worthy of a woman like Ashton but a pathetic invalid. A shell of who I once was when I was whole.
The guilt I couldn’t eradicate was the guilt of my grandmother’s death. I was behind the wheel that day. It was my fault that she died. Because I’d chosen to consider putting her in a facility. Had I not done that, she’d never have been in the car with me. But everyone else told me a different story. One that I didn’t remember. I had no memory of the accident. The last thing I remembered was the night before having dinner with Nanna and the night nurse. Watching TV and eating a pizza. The accident had wiped my memory clean of that horrible day.
When the police detective interviewed me during my last days in the hospital, he’d said witnesses verified the light had turned green and I’d turned off the main highway and onto Henderson Beach Road. A landscaping truck ran a red light and plowed into the side of my car. The impact was on the driver’s side. I was lucky to be alive according to the paramedics.
My grandmother, due to her already frail health, sustained a neck injury that she never recovered from. Basically her neck was snapped in half from the impact. I guess I should’ve been consoled by the news that the accident wasn’t my fault. But I still carried heavy emotion and grief. I should have done something. Anything.
The accident brought Ashton and me closer than ever. She had kept her promise and didn’t leave my side until I was out of the hospital. Actually, she was still in Destin. Griffin had taken it upon himself to pack her things and bring them to the beach. Kind of like giving his blessing. She’d been living with me full-time
while I recuperated. Both Henri and Albertson had given us flexibility to work from home while I worked on my recovery.
“Quinn! You’re on time today,” Mark called out from the exercise floor. Mark was one of my therapists and had been instrumental in helping me regain some of the strength in my left leg.
“I’m always on time.” I sat down on the mat and began my warm-up exercises. “You’re the one always running behind,” I teased him back.
“Do an extra set of leg lifts for me this morning,” Mark said.
I laughed, pushing myself. Being an athlete allowed me to drive harder than anyone else in the therapy practice. I’d never lacked determination. “You think an extra set of leg lifts is going to scare me?”
This is how most of my mornings started out. Physical therapy with Mark. Bantering back and forth was his way to push me harder and harder. I dripped with sweat by the time I finished my warm-up and my main exercises hadn’t even started yet.
Mark threw me a white terry towel and then moved me over to the exercise ball where we worked on my core strength movements. “You keep this up, buddy, and you’ll meet your goal by end of the month.”
That statement alone caused me to push myself harder. Mark was the only person who knew about my ultimate goal. I wanted to propose to Ashton. I wanted to do it the right way. Down on one knee with ring in hand. In order to achieve this I needed to work on my balance. Having a prosthetic helped, but I was still learning how to stand, walk, and do all the other things that most normally take for granted every day.
Ashton had given up her life to come to Destin and be with me. Support me through the good and the bad days. The days when I didn’t want to go on. Since the day after it happened, Ashton hadn’t left me. She was my cheerleader, my nurse, my friend, and my lover. The fact that I’d become deformed didn’t even seem to faze her. I had no idea how I could repay her for everything that she’d done for me. It seemed to put all the silly things we argued about that happened over ten years ago to rest.
Sinker: Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 36