I sit next to Jake’s bed with my head in my hands absolutely shaken. I mean, the guy confessed and then decided to crack his head open on the sidewalk like some suicidal proof of his love for me. Doesn’t that only happen in those Shakespeare books?
I feel like an idiot. When he fell I felt like laughing since we’d been stuck in the rain for a while and he’d chosen that particular moment to lose his footing. Then when he didn’t sit back up again, grumbling off any bruises or scratches, I started to panic. I fell to the ground next to him and started shaking his shoulder, calling his name. I’d patted his head slightly and my hands came away bloody. My heart had stopped in that moment as I watched the blood trickle through my fingers to wash away with the water pouring relentlessly from the sky.
That’s when I started to cry. I grabbed at his shirt and shook him harder in desperation, calling his name and slapping his cheeks waiting for him to get up grumpily and ask me what the heck I was doing.
Common sense kicked in after a few minutes and I pulled out my phone, dialling 911. After I’d told the woman on the other line what had happened as calmly as I could I tried calling Claire. I called just about every McLane phone I could find in my contacts but not a single one picked up.
By the time the ambulance had driven up I was still sitting on the road next to Jake, holding his hand and just hoping my stupid freak-out hadn’t done anything and that he was totally ok.
After the paramedics had figured out I was fine and Jake was the one who needed help, they slowly reeled out of me what had happened. Once we were in the vehicle, zooming on our way to hospital they’d deduced that the injury wasn’t fatal, but I didn’t know that.
When he was wheeled off inside the hospital I was made to wait in a sterile corridor. Completely clueless as to what was going to happen to him, a gathering puddle of water surrounding the chair I’d been seated in. I’d wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some comfort. I hadn’t felt so alone and hopeless in a long time.
After sitting in that hallway, just praying that Jake was ok for what seemed like hours, a nurse walked up to me, carrying a bundle of clothes. She’d led me to the room Jake had been put in and the doctor had told me that he was actually A ok. He’d just split the skin at the back of his head and passed out. I’d felt like beating the crap out of Jake as relief had flooded through me. How dare he scare me like that!
The doctor had said I could stay with him till a family member arrived and he left, forgetting to tell me wether Jake was going to wake up…
I look up as the idiot himself starts to groan. I put my hand out to touch him but find myself hovering above his arm, worried that I’ll hurt him in some way. His eyes drift towards me and he looks at me questioningly, only half-awake.
“What’s going on?” he groans, “What the hell is wrong with my head?” I don’t even realise I’m crying till his hand reaches out and brushes the tears off my cheeks, “Hey,” he says softly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt or something?”
His large warm hand wraps around my own, making me feel tiny in comparison and I bring it up to my face, leaning against it, “You’re such an idiot,” I laugh through the tears, trying to stop myself from being so over-emotional, “You slipped and nearly cracked your head open.” Another laugh racks my body but it turns into a sob, “You idiot.” I choke out.
He lies there for a moment in silence before groaning again, “I wound up in hospital because I tripped? It’s not even a cool reason.”
I laugh again, squeezing his hand, “Trust you to worry about something like that.”