Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (2 page)

BEFORE, WHENEVER I woke up from a dreamless sleep, I was disappointed that I couldn’t remember anything; frustrated almost, that my imagination isn’t impressive enough to muster up any subconscious nocturnal entertainment. These past three days I would give anything for that to still be the case. Every single time I close my eyes and try to contemplate a rest, I’m greeted with my own personal slideshow of horrifically vivid images. Ethan’s unmoving body splayed at my feet, not breathing, the EMT’s as they dragged me away.

The doctors have taken to sedating me, but in truth it makes everything feel worse. It blurs the lines of actuality, and for a fleeting moment I get to forget what has happened, what is still happening. It’s cruel. When my mind starts to awaken from the medicated haze, I get to realize that the crash wasn’t a nightmare all over again. I’m not at home tucked up in my warm cozy bed. I’m in a hospital in Arizona recovering from surgery, and Ethan…hell, I can’t even process a thought about him without crying. Each time it happens my mom presses the buzzer for the nurses to come and top up my meds.

I need to focus on accepting my new reality: Frank Jamison is paralyzed, the unsuspecting trucker that hit the rental car we were traveling in is dead, and Ethan may cease to exist. The thought is too painful, so this time it is me reaching for the buzzer.

Three Days Earlier. The Crash.

I OPEN MY eyes and everything looks to be in soft focus. I’m not wearing my glasses for some reason. Why am I not wearing my glasses? I lean forward, and a searing white-hot stabbing sensation spears through my body. I slump back into the position I was in, hoping it will bring some relief. I look down to see Ethan sprawled across me. Then it hits me. We crashed.

“Ethan?” My voice is hoarse and barely registers above a whisper. I’m overcome with a paralyzing fear as I stare down at the unnatural angle of his body. He’s not moving.

“ETHAN!” I shout this time, ignoring the pain and protests from my body as I learn forward to try and rouse him. His chest isn’t moving, and the terrifying recognition spikes my adrenaline. I look up to find the driver’s seat empty.
Where’s Frank?

I don’t know much about first aid and I’m sure that you’re not supposed to move someone that’s been involved in a crash, but Ethan’s not breathing and I can’t attempt CPR in the position we are both in.

I’ve seen in the news mothers that have single-handedly lifted a car that has trapped their child, their bodies overcome with an adrenaline rush so powerful they become almost superhuman. I think I must be experiencing something akin to that right now, because Ethan is 6.3” and around 180 pounds, yet I pull him from the car like he’s a toddler. I look around and see that the driver of the truck we collided with has blood gushing from his head and he’s swaying back and forth, frantically shouting into his cell.

I look back at Ethan and start to panic as I struggle to remember what I know about CPR. I blow two breaths into his mouth and then begin compressions on his chest while my tears blur my already compromised vision. I’m not sure how long I do this, but I’m acutely aware of sirens in the distance, and I’m praying to a god that I’ve never really been sure I believe in that they hurry up and reach us.

My arms are aching, and I’m out of breath as an EMT pulls me away from Ethan. I’m frantically kicking and screaming for them to let me stay with him as one of them ushers me into the back of an ambulance, while the other hovers over Ethan. I can hear people talking over the little radio attached to the guys’ uniform; they’re requesting more assistance. I hear the word body bag being spoken before the gravity of the situation hits me with the force of a thousand bullets and my world finally goes black.

I slowly wake as I’m being lifted from a gurney into a hospital bed. The doctors are firing questions at me. What’s my name? Can I tell them the date? What happened? My mind is foggy, and all I can focus on is that I can’t see Ethan anywhere.

“Please, where’s my boyfriend? Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure yet, miss. Just please lie back while we check you over,” a doctor replies as I attempt to sit up, and he gently takes hold of my shoulders and presses me back down onto the bed.

“No stop, please I need to find Ethan.” I move to climb down and again he pushes me back. “He wasn’t breathing; I need to know he’s okay. Let me go!” My words are distorted by my desperate sobs, and more people have gathered around me and are now trying to hold me in place. I feel a sharp jab in my leg and watch as the nurse struggles to give me a shot while I’m flailing my arms and legs around trying to slip from her grasp. My body starts to feel heavy as I struggle. Everything begins to move in slow motion and blur until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and begin to lose consciousness.

I feel as though all I did was blink, but the darkened room I’m in tells me that’s not the case. I move and shuffle around on the bed, trying to relieve the discomfort I’m feeling around my stomach and realize I’m hooked up to IV’s. I have cannulas in one of my arms that look to be leading back to a small blue machine. The steady beep, beep, beep is the only sound breaking the otherwise silent ambiance. I reach down and realize I have a dressing over my stomach. It hurts to move, but I need to find out what’s happening. I press the call button beside me and a nurse appears in the doorway almost instantly. After she explains that I’d been suffering from a ruptured spleen, which subsequently has just been removed, the nurse leaves to go and get a doctor to authorize more pain relief.

My mom walks slowly through the door with a coffee in hand, looking exhausted. She glances at me in the bed and then halts momentarily. I wait as the recognition sets in that I’m awake, and she rushes towards me, placing the cup on the stand beside the bed.

“Sweetheart, how are you? Gosh, you had me scared, baby girl.” Her words are spoken in a loud exhale, like the weight of the world has just been lifted from her shoulders. She looks beyond tired, and her eyes are glassy and rimmed red. I can tell she’s trying to hold back tears. I’m hoping like hell that they are tears of relief and not anything more sinister.

“How are you here? I don’t understand,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed as I shake my head in confusion. My voice feels all scratchy, and I ache from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“I was already on my way to come collect you. Frank called me and told me about you and Ethan being arrested. I was only an hour away when I got a phone call from the hospital letting me know you’d been brought here. Goodness Blair, I thought I was going to lose you.”

She squeezes my hand lightly and finally loses the battle to keep her tears at bay.

“What’s happened to Ethan, Mom? Have you heard anything? No one is letting me know if he’s okay. You have to go find out,” I plead and then pause as I notice a somber expression move across her face.

“Oh god no, please tell me he’s okay. He has to be okay!”

“Shh, calm down Blair,” she says in a hushed tone, wiping the tears that are now racing down my face with her thumbs.

“He’s in the ICU; he’s in a coma and that’s all that I know, honey. Frank is in the ICU, too.” I stiffen at the mention of him.

“This, this is his fault,” I stammer trying to calm my breathing. “He just stopped in the middle of the road to pick a fight with Ethan. Who does that?” Her eyebrows pull together as she’s about to reply to my accusation, when the nurse returns with more pain relief. A milky white liquid is being injected into the drip at the side of the bed; within a few seconds I feel the aches start to lessen in their intensity. It makes my body feel strange, like somehow it's not my own, and I’m witnessing everything that’s happening from somewhere else. Mom goes out into the hall to speak with one of the doctors, leaving me with the knowledge that my boyfriend is in a coma. I’m not sure if I should be terrified of that, or thankful. I know it’s bad to be in a coma, but for a moment I thought she was going to tell me that he was dead. I’ve experienced my fair share of loss already; I don’t think I could bear anymore. If Ethan dies it will break me. I’ve already lost two people I love.

It dawns on me that Mom said that Frank was in the ICU too. I’ve never been someone that wishes bad things on other people, but I’m struggling at the moment because although I know it’s terrible to admit, I hope that asshole dies.

I WANT TO open my eyes but it's not happening, and I don’t understand what’s wrong. I can hear voices and beeping. Why won't my eyes open?

“There’s been no change, I’m afraid. We are monitoring him very closely, Mrs. Jamison. You should go and get something to eat; you’ve not left the room all day.”

“I know and I will, I just don’t like leaving him on his own.”

Mom? That’s her voice—I’m sure of it; it’s so faint, but it’s definitely hers. I want to turn towards it, but I can't. God, what the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I move? Shit, my head hurts. I’m so tired, but I’m in too much pain to sleep and I can’t lift my eyelids. Maybe I’m dreaming. Can you feel pain in a dream? I’m confused and this headache feels real.

The beeping is getting louder. I need it to stop. Concentrate, Ethan—open your fucking eyes, goddamn it.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep,

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

“Doctor, someone please come quick! Something’s happening!”

“Mom?”
Wait did I say that aloud?
I try again, but all I can muster up is a cough. My throat hurts. There’s something in my mouth and it’s making me gag; I need it out.

“Oh, thank you, god! Thank you. Ethan honey, I’m here!”

My eyes start to flutter as I concentrate on trying to open them. I finally manage and then instantly wish I hadn’t. I’m greeted with ridiculously bright fluorescents and my headache takes on a whole new dimension. There’s so much pressure building behind my eyes I almost want someone to drill a hole into my temple to drain it. Mom’s face moves into view, shielding the brightness for a moment before it’s replaced with a woman’s face that I don’t recognize. She’s leaning over me and telling me to keep calm while she removes the ETT. What the fuck’s an ETT?