"Don't make promises you can't keep."
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Noah Reed is lost. Fed up with his constant attitude and need for self-destruction, his mother sends him to live out the rest of the year with his father in hop...
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When I finally make it to the hospital, it feels like time has turned to liquid.
I'm aware of what I'm doing at the same time it's like I'm simply going through motions. I can feel the seconds as they pass, yet time feels like it's flying at the same time. I swerve into a parking space without bothering to make sure I'm within the white lines before turning off the ignition and jumping out of my truck. I rush toward the hospital doors, heading for the check-in area.
"I'm Noah Reed," I blurt once I reach the front desk. "I'm here to see Jo—"
Before I'm able to finish my sentence, I hear a voice calling my name. I turn around to find my father standing a few feet away from me in the waiting area. Caroline is sitting in a chair by his side, holding a hand to her mouth as she cries silently. I notice that her cheeks are red and splotchy as trails of tears form uneven patterns down her skin. It's in this moment that I'm finally able to gain my bearings. Time stops moving too fast yet too slow all at once, and I'm placed in the correct minute.
That's when it hits me all over again. Mom was in an accident. She's in critical condition. She's unconscious.
I rush toward my father without a second thought, noticing his grim expression. I don't like the way his dark eyes are gleaming, full of unshed tears and heaviness. The look he gives me tells me all I need to know, yet there's a question floating around my mind that I still need to ask.
"How is she?" I exhale the words, my heart racing. I've never felt so scared in my life. My heart pounds like it's trying to run away from me, I can hear blood rushing in my ears, my throat constricts until it's hard to breathe, and my hands are clammy. Panic seeps within me, and all I can think are the same three sentences on repeat. Mom was in an accident. She's in critical condition. She's unconscious.
Dad stands before me in silence. In this moment he looks much older than he really is. He appears worn in ways only pure exhaustion and grief can cause. Caroline continues crying in the chair next to him, and this only makes my heart sink further.
"She's . . . your mom's not . . ." Dad trails off, stumbling over his words. When he meets my gaze, his dark eyes are shattered and broken, reflecting the pain I feel.
"She's not doing well, Noah," Dad finally manages to say, rushing to add, "She's got a few broken bones, and the doctor said they're pretty sure she has a concussion. She's still unconscious, but . . ." he trails off once again, squeezing his eyes closed like he can't bear to finish the sentence.
However, I need him to finish the sentence. I need to know that my mother—the first woman to ever love me, who has taken care of me since I was nothing but a baby—is going to make it through this. I mean, bones heal, right? People survive concussions. If she's unconscious, she could wake up any time. Yet my father is acting like there's more, like there is something worse at stake here, and I need to know that whatever it is, it's something my mother can survive.
