Strings (1 of 2)

Chapter 58 - Because of You

[Nathan's POV]

I'm cleaning up the broken glass across my apartment when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and Emily's name pops up, making me instantly smile as I answer.

My whole world stops when she says she's in the hospital and can't come to lunch. She sounds okay, somewhat herself, but my stomach drops when she tells me a car hit her. She refuses to tell me how injured she was, but the doctor showing up mid-call to help her makes my mind race on possibilities.

She better fucking be okay.

I race over to the hospital, thankfully I don't live far, and park right in the emergency stop spot because it's the first entrance I see. I ignore all the screaming from nurses and staff standing outside telling me to move and run into the building.

She better be in one piece.

I look around frantically for a sign.

Fuck... she didn't tell me what room. She didn't even tell me to come. But how could I not come?

I speed walk up and down the halls, looking for a reception area. Blue scrubs pass by me and I get a familiar feeling that I have seen the guy before.

"Room 437." He says from behind me and the voice clicks in my head.

The guy from the bar hitting on Emily...

I look back at him, but he has already disappeared down the hall.

I press the elevator button and the doors don't open.

"Shit, come on..." I repeat over and over as I press the button a dozen times, the beeping pushing me more on edge.

Finally, the doors open and I press floor four. Worth a shot if the room number starts with it.

The doors open after several excruciatingly slow seconds and I follow the wall signs to room 437.

She better be fucking okay... she better be... I will kill someone if she isn't...

I fling open the door and my eyes meet hers and her mouth opens slightly.

She's here. She's okay...

I rush over to the side of the bed and put my hands on both of her cheeks, careful to avoid the scrapes and cuts probably from hitting the gravel, staring into her eyes as my breathing slows slightly. She places her palm over my left hand and smiles up to me.

"You came?" She says quietly.

"Obviously." I reply, confused. Why wouldn't I come? How could I stay away?

I look her over to assess the damage. She's scraped up pretty good, small cuts and bruises along her arms and legs. She's wearing shorts... that makes sense. She looks whole, though, except her left hand in bandages.

I frown as I grab it carefully and turn it over gently in my palm.

Fucking Christ... I did this to her.

Well, I didn't hit her, but I know this is my fault. I'm to blame.

It's my fault she is broken...

"I look worse than it is. I broke my wrist, but they said the way I hit the pavement, it could have been much worse." she says, reading my mind, "doctors say I was lucky."

Lucky.

That must be a joke. Meeting me caused this to happen. Being with me made her hand break. Seeing me has made her the most unlucky girl in the world.