Just us- SBI adoption story (Just me and him book 2)

Chapter 89: say nothing

Wilbur's POV:

Mum still hadn't called by the time it got to going to bed. We didn't have bedtimes, Tommy did, but not us older ones. Still, it was clear when wasn't a reasonable time for me to still be up and i was long before Mum had finally made any contact.

I tried staying calm and thinking logically, but it was so difficult. Techno was upstairs and there way no way I could go and talk to him. Dad was on the sofa, but definitely not in the mood for talking. And I didn't want to bother Tubbo. I knew how hard it had been for him to let Mum and Dad look after Tommy; I couldn't imagine how he was feeling.

Dad went upstairs just before midnight, I listened out for him and breathed a little lighter when I heard the door to his bedroom close. Tubbo looked at me and shrugged, Dad never went to bed without saying good night unless he was ill.

"It wasn't his fault." I said quietly, gauging Tubbo's reaction. He didn't say or do anything. "No one knew Tommy could open the front door like that, he's never done it before, he never opens any door on his own."

"Mhm." Tubbo said, looking at me and sighing.

"I know, it sucks, you feel like you should have kept him safer," I was pooling on a conversation Techno had once had with me. We'd come home from another foster family that hadn't worked out, he thought I was asleep and sat and talked to me for hours. I don't think he knows I heard him, not even now.

Tubbo nodded silently and checked his phone again. It was now officially Friday and there was still no news.

We got up Netflix on Tubbo's laptop and let it play quietly in the bedroom. We were on a different floor to everyone else anyway and neither of could sleep so we doubted the rest of our family was.

When my phone finally buzzed, I was disappointed to see Mum had just sent a single sentence. 'He's okay, talk soon.' It had a little heart emoji attached to it. It didn't make a difference. We'd all seen him be put in the ambulance, the cut on his head, the arm at the wrong angle. We'd heard his screams and his cries and how they got worse when Dad tried to get closer.

There was no way that after all of that, 'he's okay' would be enough to stop us from worrying. Then the worst thing possible happened, Mum came home at 5:30 and Tommy wasn't with her.

Grian's POV:

I got a phone call from Kristin Watson at around 10 in the evening. She was panicked and evidently quite upset.

"What's happened?" I asked, knowing there was no other reason for the call.

"Tommy's been hit by a car."

"Jesus christ," I mumbled under my breath, "which hospital are you in?" She told me the name and I scrambled to my stuff together. I'd literally just changed into my pajamas but grabbed my work clothes from the washing basket and shoved them back on. They smelt slightly but would just have to do.

I grabbed my work backpack and chucked it into the passenger seat, rushing to the hospital. When I got there, I had to stand in line before I finally got a chance to explain my situation to the receptionist. Confused, she told me to take a seat and wait, someone would come get me soon. My mum has always said I need to be less polite, and I agree with her, because I sat for nearly an hour and a half before I went back up to the desk, queued for another 20 minutes and finally got a porter to show me through to where Kristin was, in a waiting room on the surgical ward.

In my rush to get here, I hadn't actually asked Kristin what had happened. I assumed it was a massive trauma case, a major injury or something. When I got there, I found out Tommy was in surgery to fix his broken arm. Other than a nasty gash on his forehead from where he'd hit the tarmac, that was the biggest injury.