Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“You are”—she glanced at her clipboard—“Nathaniel Phelan, right? The one who was headed to basic training?”
I nodded, flipping my sodden wallet over in my hand. “I’m sure everyone has their hands full right now.”
She gave me an awkward shoulder pat and moved to the next passengers, while I watched the clock for another ten minutes.
“That’s him,” a nurse said, pointing to me, and my brows shot up, hoping it would be a doctor next to her, but it wasn’t.
The woman was a little taller than Izzy, with light-brown hair and worried brown eyes. The family resemblance was unmistakable.
“You’re Izzy’s husband?” she said, charging my way like a bull who’d been shown red.
I stood. “You must be the sister. Serena, right?”
She nodded, swatting a single tear off her face.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I’m just the guy who was sitting next to her. We’re not married.”
“Obviously,” she whispered back. “I think I’d know if my baby sister was married.”
“I lied because I promised I wouldn’t leave her, and then I may have . . . forged a document agreeing to the surgery.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Surgery? All they told me when I showed up to the reunification site was that she was here. It took me about an hour to realize it was her flight, and then I’ve been running everywhere.” She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, reopening them when it seemed she had some control. “Tell me what surgery.”
I gestured to the chair next to mine, and we both sat. “She ruptured her spleen in the crash and broke two ribs, along with getting a concussion. She was bleeding internally.”
She nodded, absorbing the information with a calm I respected. “Okay. And you signed for the surgery?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” I handed her the clipboard. “I’m hoping you’ll know most of that.”
“I can do this.” She stared at the forms like they were in a foreign language. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“I hope so. She was conscious right up until I handed her to the paramedics.” I resumed flipping my wallet in my hand and watching the clock.
“Oh God, she’s allergic to—”
“Penicillin,” I finished for her. “She told me. They know.”
She sat back in the chair and stared at the door, the one the surgeons had been coming in and out of the last few hours. “Lucky she was sitting next to you.”
“I’m not sure I’d call anything about today lucky, except that we’re somehow alive.”
“That’s the luckiest you can be.”
The door to the left swung open, and two uniformed men walked in wearing camouflage. My stomach hit the ground.
“Nathaniel Phelan?” one of them asked, scouring the room.
“That’s me.” I lifted a hand and stood.
“Hell of a day you’re having. Are you cleared by medical to leave?” one of them asked.
I nodded. “Just needed stitches.”
“Good. Let’s get you out of here.” He motioned to the door.
Picking up the clear bag of my personal items, I walked over to them. “Is there any way we can wait? The woman I was sitting next to is in surgery.”
They shared a look, and I knew it wasn’t going to go my way. “Is she your wife?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Mother? Sister? Daughter?” the other asked.
“No. I’m just worried about her.”
Sympathy knit his brow. “I’m sorry, but we’re tasked with getting you out of here, and if she’s not next of kin or a blood relative, we really need to go. Orders are orders.”
My chest tightened, and I nodded. “One second.” Serena was still filling out forms when I reached her. “I have to go.”
She looked up at me, her eyes a shade lighter than Izzy’s. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“Just . . .” I shook my head. Fuck my life, I couldn’t even ask her to call and tell me if she made it out all right. “Just tell her that I didn’t want to go, but orders are orders.”
“I will. Thank you.” She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it. “Thank you. I can’t say that enough.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” Taking a deep breath, I walked back toward the soldiers, then followed them out.
Isabeau would be okay. She had to be. I refused to believe that fate, or God, or the cosmic energy of the universe would make her go through all of that and not come out of it alive.
But I would never know.
“We can get you on another flight, or a bus if you’re not . . . you know . . . keen on flying at the moment. Or I’m sure they’ll give you a waiver, and let you postpone basic,” one of the soldiers said as we made our way out of the hospital.
“No.” I gripped my bag harder. Everything I owned was now in it, and I had absolutely nothing to go home to. “No, I’m ready now.”