“He’s on his way to Rapid City Regional Hospital. As I’m sure you saw, he’s suffered a serious blow to the head.”
“Did he regain consciousness?”
The doctor shook his head. “He already had swelling, so we got him out of here as quickly as possible. I just got off the phone with a neurosurgeon. He’s headed to the ER.” He patted my upper arm. “The sheriff will be in good hands. Dr. Jeffers is excellent with sports-related brain trauma.”
The doctor’s eyes met mine. “Will you be all right driving to the hospital, or do you need someone to take you and your son?”
Strange to hear Lex called my son. I realized that he and I were holding hands. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine to drive.”
As we started to leave out the back door, I heard someone yell, “Mrs. Dawson?”
That stopped me in my tracks. I turned around. “Yes?”
A cowboy hustled toward me. “Here’s the sheriff’s equipment bag.”
“Thanks.” I reached for it, but Lex grabbed the handle before I could.
“No problem. If there’s anything any of us at the Sheriffs Association can do, please let us know.”
“I will.”
I’d expected Lex would pepper me with questions, but we made the drive up Fifth Street to the hospital in complete silence. In the ER parking lot, I snagged the equipment bag and set it on the seat. I rooted around for Mason’s wallet.
Lex frowned at me, like I was picking his dad’s pockets.
“I’ll need his insurance information.”
He stuck to me like a tick as we entered the hospital through the ER doors.
I checked in with the nurse. Gave her my name and was told to have a seat.
About ten minutes later the receptionist handed me a clipboard to fill out the basics of Mason’s information. I knew his height, his weight, his birth date. I filled out the insurance section after finding the Blue Cross/Blue Shield card in his wallet. But I didn’t know his blood type. Or the date of his last tetanus shot. I only realized he was an organ and tissue donor when I looked at his driver’s license. I had no idea who his next of kin was besides me, and technically, I wasn’t supposed to be handling this medical shit because I had no legal rights as Mason’s domestic partner.
Frustrated and scared shitless, I handed over the paperwork and looked around for Lex.
The kid was trying to peek in the windows of a set of double doors leading to the actual ER.
“They’ll let us know when we can go back,” I said, lacing my fingers through his to tug him away.
He scowled, so much like his father that I had to bite the inside of my cheek. But he didn’t let go of my hand. “You want a soda or a snack?” I asked.
“You told me no more soda tonight,” he said sullenly. “Or candy.”
“Suit yourself.” I plunked the money in the vending machine and stared at the choices. The brightly wrapped packages blurred as I blinked back tears.
Then Lex stood beside me, staring into the rows of candy, cookies, chips, and nuts. He leaned his head into my arm.
I about lost it then. I put my hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer. “Wanna split some M &M’s?”
He nodded.
“Plain or peanut?” I asked, hoping for plain.
“Peanut,” he said.
I ended up buying both kinds. I must’ve eaten mine, because when I glanced down, the wrapper was empty.
Lex was too big to sit on my lap. When his eyes began to droop, I moved us to a bench seat, rolled my coat up as a pillow, and set it on my lap. “Lay your head down. I’ll wake you up as soon as anyone comes out to talk to us.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He snuggled in without another protest. I stroked his damp hair away from his face, almost absentmindedly.
He said, “Mercy?”
“Mmm?”
“Why’s it been such a long time?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know, Lex. Me, too.”
Five minutes later, Lex was asleep. I glanced at the clock. Midnight. We’d been here over three hours without any idea what was going on. Had they taken Mason to surgery? Was he alone, wondering why I wasn’t by his side, as he’d been by my side all the times I’d needed him in the last year?
Was he…?
No.
I watched people come in, wait around, and leave. Sick babies and worried parents. An older woman with a hacking cough that sounded like pneumonia. A couple of drunks who’d done stupid things and were bleeding all over the tile.
The clock ticked from midnight, to one o’clock, to two o’clock. I tried like hell not to freak out that I hadn’t seen a single medical person in five hours.
I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the wall. I wondered if anything was going through Dawson’s mind right now, or if it was blessedly blank.
I’d had my share of concussions. The worst one had happened as a fluke. Our elite squad was supposed to be in Fallujah only overnight, long enough to sneak in and eliminate our target. But the assassination infuriated the locals, and they stepped up their aggression. We had no choice but to stay and return fire until reinforcements arrived.
