He’s also no longer receiving the drugs administrated to keep him in an induced coma, so now, all we’re waiting on is for him to wake up from his coma, and every minute that passes feels like a lifetime.
The day after he was admitted, his stats began to dramatically improve, so I was able to stay with him, and that’s where I’ve been for the past three days straight. The only time I’ve moved from my seat is to use the bathroom or to FaceTime with Junior. I desperately want to give my baby boy a hug, to hold him in my arms, but I can’t bear to leave Drew for longer than a minute.
Junior understands though, and every time I turn my phone back on, there’s always a message from him with a bunch of hearts, moons, and stars, saying I love you to the moon and back.
And I respond with, I love you to the universe and beyond.
I love how the roles have reversed, but to me, it isn’t important about who says what in which order. All that matters is the unbreakable bond we have, and that bond, that love we share, is the strength that seems to pull me through. He’s my ray of sunshine after days of nonstop rain.
I trace Drew’s hand with my fingers and look at him with a longing sigh. “Baby, it’s been four days. If you want to see me look like a hobo, you’re succeeding. I haven’t showered in days, and deodorant can only do so much. You need to wake up, so I can shower or at least have a hose down.” I lightly chuckle under my breath. “Maybe if I hold my armpit up to your face, it’ll finally wake you up.”
I expect to hear a sarcastic remark or a rumbling deep laugh, but all I hear is silence between the beeping of the machines. The silence kills me. It breaks my heart not to hear his voice or see the sparkle in his breathtakingly beautiful eyes, but I take a deep breath and focus on the words the doctor told me.
“He’ll wake up on his own time. You need to be patient.”
Patience and I have never made a good duo, but for Drew, I’d wait a thousand years and walk a thousand miles if it meant I’d get to see the depths of his blue eyes again. I squeeze his hand and continue to babble, hoping he can hear me.
“Seriously though, I’m a little worried that you’ll dump my ass when you wake up. I looked in the mirror earlier, and wow, I’d certainly give Beyoncé a run for her money; that’s for sure. She’ll probably be jealous of the bird’s nest I have going on and the spot I have forming on my chin.” I continue talking for twenty minutes nonstop until Rachel pops her head around the door.
“Hey,” she says softly.
I lift my gaze from Drew to her. “Hi.”
“Any change?”
I let out an exhale of air before shaking my head. “No.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and I notice the way her throat constricts as she heavily gulps. She makes no attempt to move. She just stays fixed at the door, her expression frightened, as she keeps her eyes on her brother.
She hasn’t stepped past the door in the four days Drew’s been here. She just pops her head around the door once every couple of hours before going back into the waiting room and simply waiting for him to wake. I don’t judge her though. We all handle grief differently. I mean, it took me all of six years to finally come to terms with Christopher’s death.
“Why don’t you come inside and talk to him?” I suggest, hating to see her like this.
She sucks in her bottom lip, pulling at the long sleeves of her shirt. “I don’t even know what to say to him,” she says barely above a whisper. “I mean, who’s to say he can even hear me?”
I reluctantly let go of Drew’s hand and make my way over to Rachel. “He might not be able to hear us, but he might be able to sense us, and if he can sense us, it might help him gain consciousness,” I explain, not sure where my rational side is coming from but glad my head is in the right place. I guess six years of heartache has prepared me for times like this, making my strength boundless.
“I hate this.” A dimple forms in the center of her chin as it trembles with the beckoning of newly formed tears. “I’ve never known him not to smile. Even when Mom died, he was still cracking jokes at her wake, never one to allow sadness to cloud over any situation.”
“Well, maybe you need to be the one cracking jokes.” I allow those words to sink in as I sit back down.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, she grabs a seat from the corner of the room and sets it on the other side of his bedside.
While my hand clutches ahold of Drew’s left hand, Rachel grabs his other hand. “So,” she begins on a shuddery breath, “Mason told me a funny joke the other day. Why did the computer go to the doctor?”
She pauses for a moment, and for the first time in days, I find myself smiling because Junior told me the same joke days before the accident.
“Because it had a virus.”
She chuckles, and I laugh along with her. It’s refreshing after four days full of sadness.
She tells another joke, “Why couldn’t the pirate play cards?”
“I don’t know,” I answer for Drew.
“Because he was sitting on the deck.”
I roll my eyes, lightly laughing at the insanely bad joke.
“Oh, I have another one,” she says, edging closer to Drew, tightening her hand around his, her eyes now solely on him. “Mason laughed so hard when he told this that he literally fell off his chair. Why can’t you take a nap during a race?” she asks, fighting what looks to be a smile.
This time, I stay quiet, allowing Drew to silently answer her.
“Because, if you snooze, you lose.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter, but seconds later, the laughter becomes cries of sadness. She bows her head as she finally allows the tears she’s been holding in since she first saw him like this to fall.
“Drew…” she cries through a sob. “Please, you have to wake up. Please…”
The sobs rack through her, and it takes everything within me not to break down with her. Instead, I press a soft kiss over Drew’s knuckles and pray that he wakes up.
“I think I’m going to take Alana up on her offer to stay at her house and finally get some rest,” Rachel says hours later, stifling a yawn.
Her tears eventually dried, but I think they drained every last bit of energy she had.
Alana opened up her home to both Rachel and Jenson, but Jenson had to head back to Austin to get Mason. Much like me, Rachel hasn’t set foot out of the hospital since she arrived, but it will do her good to get some rest.
“Yes, sure. You look like you could do with some rest,” I point out.
I stretch my arms over my head, tilting my neck to the side until I hear a relieving crack. My body aches from sitting in the same position for hours on end.
“What would give you that idea?” she deadpans as she stands from her seat. “Would it be the bags under my eyes or the fact that I’ve aged ten years in four days?”
My mouth twitches with the slightest attempt at a smile before letting out a yawn.
“It looks like you could do with some rest yourself.”
I shake my head with a resounding no. Leaving the hospital isn’t an option right now. Days or weeks might pass while I’m closed behind these walls of the hospital, but until he wakes up, I’m not going anywhere.
“No, I’m good. I want to be here just in case he wakes up.”
“Okay.” She rounds the bed toward me and bends at the waist to pull me into a tight embrace. “Please call me if he wakes up,” she says as she backs away.
“You’ll be the first to know.”
After leaning down and pressing a kiss to Drew’s temple, she leaves.
I follow suit and press my lips to his head, my fingers brushing against his cheek. “I’m just going to check on Junior and get myself hydrated. I’ll be back soon. And, if you want to wake up during that time, I’ll make it worth your while,” I suggest with a flirtatious laugh before prying myself from the room.
After checking my messages and calling to check on Junior, I head to the bathroom and then make a de
tour to the cafeteria to grab myself a bottled water and a protein bar. As I make my way back, inhaling my protein bar and water in a matter of seconds, I hope and pray that the first thing I see when I enter his room again are his blue eyes.
However, when I return, I can’t hide the disappointment within the pit of my stomach when everything is exactly the same as it was ten minutes ago. I take my seat and grasp the warmth of his hand in mine.
Be patient, I remind myself.
He’ll wake up when he’s ready.
“I’m back, baby. I’m here,” I announce, hoping he can somehow hear me through his unconsciousness.
The next two days pass with no change, except for his leg is now in a cast after his successful surgery, but I continue talking to him like he’s listening because, right now, that’s all I can do. However, I can’t hide the disappointment when the days pass, and I’m still not able to see his beautiful blue eyes that I fell in love with. Just to hear him mock me, hear his laughter, would be better than the silence I am met with.
Anything would be better than silence.
The next morning, I slowly wake to tingles erupting along my body, and I let out a heavenly moan at the wonderful sensation that caresses through me. I forget about everything and focus on the fingers that stroke through my hair.
Drew’s fingers.
Drew’s fingers?
I soon remember where I am, and at that realization, I whip my head up from the bed, ignoring the pins and needles that shoot up and down my arm for lying on it for too long, and my eyes are met with the blue eyes I’ve been desperate to see for seven whole days.
“Drew…” I breathe.
“Hi, sugar,” he croaks with the barest of smiles, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
That smile and word I never thought I’d hear again are like a blow to the chest, and tears of relief escape me.
I lean over and bring his face gently between my fingers. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” he says.
Laughter-filled sobs leave my mouth.
“Baby, you’re awake,” I repeat, my heart finally able to beat again now that my reason for breathing is awake and lucid enough to speak.
“I need to grab the nurse.” I make the attempt to move, but he latches on to my hand, keeping me in place.
“No, wait a minute. I just…” He grimaces as he swallows.
I desperately want to grab a nurse, so swallowing is no longer painful for him, but I let him speak.
“I saw him.”
“Who?”
“Christopher.”
My heart falters in my chest. “My Christopher?”
He nods before swallowing heavily again. “It might have been a dream, but it felt real, like how you’re holding my hand now.” He tightens his hold on my hand to emphasize his meaning. “He told me to fight.” He splutters a cough and slams his eyes shut as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, his throat constricting with the struggle to speak. They flicker back open as he says, “He told me to fight for you, and I did.”
My bottom lip wobbles, and a single tear rolls down my cheek. “You really saw him?” I ask, wanting to make sure I heard him right. Not because I don’t believe him, but because I do. I love knowing Christopher was there. It’s the final validation that it’s okay for me to move on.
“Yeah, and he was ready to kick my ass if I died.”
I laugh, pressing a kiss against Drew’s knuckles. “He was pretty protective over me.”
“Still is,” he says, his vocal cords struggling to keep up with his speech.
“I need to grab a nurse now. I’ll be right back.” I lean over and press a soft kiss to his cracked lips before rushing out of the room to grab a nurse.
When I step up to the nurses’ station, I spot Dr. Stephens, who performed the brain surgery on Drew. He’s speaking to another nurse I’ve become quite familiar with in the past seven days.
“He’s awake,” I say with a huge grin on my face.
They reciprocate my smile.
I return to Drew’s room with the nurse and Dr. Stephens. When we step through the door, panic rushes through my blood when I see he’s asleep again.
I turn to them. “I swear, he was awake and talking thirty seconds ago.”
“It’s okay. A patient who has just come out of a coma can be a little drowsy for a couple of days. It’s normal,” Dr. Stephens explains.
I let out a breath of relief before turning to Drew’s side, instinctively capturing his fingers in mine. “I’m back, baby. The nurse and doctor are here.”
His eyes flicker open, and I realize he must have just nodded off. The nurse begins to check his vitals as Dr. Stephens moves closer to Drew’s bedside with a warm smile on his face.
“Hey, it’s good to have you back with us. How are you feeling?” Dr. Stephens asks.
Drew has to swallow before he speaks, “I’m okay. I’m a little tired, and my mouth’s as dry as a nun’s…well, you know.”
He grins at me, and I have to stifle my laughter at his comment.
Yeah, I think he’s just fine.
“We’ll get you some water,” Dr. Stephens says with a chuckle before instructing the nurse to get a cup of water. “Are you nauseous or experiencing any pain?” the doctor asks.
Drew gives a gentle shake of his head. “No, but I do have a headache though.”
“On a scale of one to ten—one being no pain at all, ten being the most painful—how would you rate your headache?”
Drew thinks for a moment before saying, “About a four.”
Dr. Stephens speaks to the nurse about administrating a certain painkiller to help ease the headache, and she busies herself.
“I’m just going to ask you a few questions, and then you can rest. Do you remember what happened and why you’re in the hospital?” Dr. Stephens asks.
“Yes. I had a bike accident, and from the looks of it, it was a bad one,” Drew explains, pointing down to his banged up self, chuckling.
I love that he has his humor back. My Drew is back.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Drew Greyson.”
“What’s your address?”
Drew recalls his address from heart. The doctor asks him a few more questions, and it seems his memory is intact, much to the doctor’s approval.
Dr. Stephens instructs Drew to look to the left and then to the right while shining a penlight in his eyes, and after checking his glands, he steps back. “Well, everything seems normal, and you seem incredibly alert for someone who’s been in a coma for seven days.”
“Seven days?” Drew’s eyes widen, and he tightens his hand around mine.
“You had a severe traumatic bleed to the brain that required emergency surgery. It was caused by a skull fracture. You were in critical condition, and in order for the swelling to go down, we had to put you in an induced coma.”
Drew lets out a breath of air. “Holy shit,” slips from his tongue. He then points to the two other injuries—the bandage on his stomach and the cast on his leg.
The doctor answers without needing to hear the question, “You had some internal bleeding that resulted in a splenectomy. And your right leg was broken in two places. You had open reduction surgery to realign the bones. The orthopedic surgeon will discuss the aftercare with you further when you’re a little more up to it.”
The nurse returns with a plastic cup filled with water and a straw. She hands it to Drew. “Small sips,” she orders.
Drew smiles around his straw. “Yes, ma’am.”
After a few sips, he hands me the cup, and I place it on the table.
“I have to say, you’re an extremely lucky man, Mr. Greyson,” Dr. Stephens says in earnest. “I’m going to let you rest now, but I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I say.
I notice Drew’s sleepy eyes flicker closed. They leave us alone, and I spend the next couple of minutes just watching Drew as he falls into a restful sl
eep. For the first time in seven days, I’m finally able to breathe, knowing he’s going to be okay.
I smile when Drew’s sleepy eyes meet mine, and I shift forward in my seat, connecting my hand with his.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Hey,” he rasps.
I wince at how painfully sore his throat sounds. I take ahold of the cup of water from the side and hold the straw to his mouth. He takes a few gentle sips before letting the straw fall from his lips, and I place the cup back down.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I was knocked off my bike,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He sighs. “I’ve been better, but I’m just thankful that I’m alive,” he speaks honestly.
My fingers instinctively find their way to his, and I squeeze him tight. “Me, too. I thought I was going to lose you.”
My words seem to awaken him, and he shifts his position with a wince, lifting his hand to caress the softness of my cheek.
“It’d take a lot more than some tool knocking me off my bike to take me away from you. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
I lean into his hand, embracing his warmth. “Okay.”
“Talking of tools,” he begins as he lowers his hand from my face and laces his fingers through mine. “Do they know who hit me?”
I slam my eyes shut, anger filling my veins at the thought of the dickhead kid who almost took Drew away from me forever. It’s anger I’ve managed to keep to a minimum while Drew was in a coma this past week, but now, the anger finally begins to pour from me, the flames igniting just below my skin.
“Some idiot who thought it was a good idea to get behind the wheel after drinking himself into oblivion. He came out of the crash with barely a scratch on him.”
Drew looks up to the ceiling, deep in thought. It’s when I see his eyes glisten with pain-stricken tears that I realize the magnitude of what happened has finally hit him. I lift off the seat and perch myself on the side of the bed, taking his face between my hands. This time, I’m the one to comfort him.
Our Forever Page 29