“No… Co…hen…love.”

Right before I feel the numbness crawl into my head, I hear the sweetest sound in the world.

I hear Cohen return my love.  And even though he’s crying, I know he’s alive and that he knows that I love him.

Chapter 9 – Greg

The ride to the hospital is a complete and total wash.  I don’t see a single mile.  I don’t feel anything except soul-crushing pain.  My family, my reason for living, is beyond my reach, and I wasn’t there when they needed me.

My mind passed rational thinking about ten miles ago.  Beck’s words still echo like a badly scratched CD through my mind.

Accident.

It doesn’t look good.

Airlifted.

I can feel the fear taking over.  It doesn’t matter how many times I beg and plead, pray and beg some more, I feel like I lost a piece of myself when he spoke those words.

Not knowing and fearing the worst but grasping on to that sliver of hope that keeps bursting through the darkness is the only thing keeping me from crumbling.

That and knowing that Cohen’s going to need me…and I’m going to need him.

“We’re almost there, brother.”

Axel doesn’t need me to respond.  Hell, I’m not even sure if I could at this point.

The second I see the turn off for the hospital, I sit a little straighter in the seat.  When I see the brick of the building pop through the trees, I lift my hand to the door handle.  The second I feel his truck slowing, I unsnap my belt.  And right when I see the doors to the emergency room, my door’s released and I jump from the cab.

Luckily, Axel had already been slowing when I leaped from his moving truck, so there wasn’t any resistance when I landed and took off at a dead sprint for the glass doors.

I can hear Axel screaming and cursing behind me, but I don’t even pause.  My body is driving me since my mind refuses to think.  The only thought I’m capable of at this point is finding my boy and then my wife.

The little old lady sitting at the desk visibly shrinks back when I all but break down the wall to get into the hospital.  Her eyes widen for a second before she catches herself and wipes her expression clear.

“Can I help—”

“Melissa and Cohen Cage.  My family…please,” I gasp, not even giving her the time to finish.  I can feel the cool air on my wet cheeks, my tears once again flowing freely.

She looks down, glancing back up at me quickly before returning her eyes to her computer.

“Sir, I don’t see—”

I sag with relief when Axel speaks from my side.  “Melissa Cage, ma’am.  Brought in by helicopter approximately fifteen minutes ago.  Her son, also his son, Cohen Cage, should be arriving by ambulance either shortly after her or soon.  Please, make the call and find out where he can find his family.”

Even with his hand grasping my shoulder again, I can’t feel it.  That solid strength that he’s trying to pass through to me is completely lost to my panic.  I look around, praying that I’ll see Melissa and Cohen in one of the many chairs around the room.  Praying that this is some sick joke and my family is okay.

“Greg, let’s go.”

“Huh?”  I look over at Axel’s concerned expression, realizing that I missed the rest of his conversation.

“Let’s go.  Cohen’s already here being seen and this nice nurse here, Lucy, is taking us to where he is.”  He points over to the nurse who’s standing next to the desk, looking at me with the same expression of concern that Axel has on his face.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.  The second I hear that I am about to hold my boy, I feel my heart start beating a little faster.  Knowing that they wouldn’t be taking me to him if he were badly injured is helping my fear recede some.

I watch the young nurse’s ponytail sway with each rapid step she takes. I keep wanting to run past her and scream Cohen’s name until I find him, but each time my pace gets too heavy, Axel clears his throat and grabs my arm.  I feel like punching him in his goddamn arm for making me walk at this ridiculous pace.  We should be running—hell, sprinting—through the halls.

“Right in here, Mr. Cage,” Nurse Lucy states, opening the door to one of the emergency rooms.

I take a step toward the curtain that’s pulled closed.  I can hear movement, but I haven’t heard my boy.  I still feel the adrenalin pumping rapidly through my body, demanding that I rush, but now that I’m faced with not knowing what’s on the other side of this blue barrier, I’m paralyzed in fear.