“I can drive.”
My voice cracked badly enough that Captain Reyes didn’t argue again.
I untied the remaining balloons and left them beside the cake.
Bright red.
Blue.
Silver.
Several said HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
They suddenly looked completely wrong.
The drive to St. Matthew’s felt endless.
Every red light made me furious.
Every slow driver seemed personally responsible for keeping me away from Tyler.
I repeated the same sentence in my head.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
At the hospital, I nearly ran through the entrance.
A receptionist directed me upstairs.
When I entered Tyler’s room, my legs nearly gave out.
He was awake.
His left arm was secured against his body.
A bandage covered part of his head.
Dark bruising was already spreading across one side of his face.
But he looked at me.
Then he smiled.
I stood beside his bed unable to speak.
Relief hit first.
Anger came immediately afterward.
“You idiot.”
His smile weakened.
“Fair.”
“You absolute idiot.”
“I know.”
I bent down and carefully kissed his forehead.
Then I started crying.
Tyler reached for my hand with his uninjured arm.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I will be.”
That answer I could accept.
The doctors explained that he had a fractured shoulder, three cracked ribs, and a concussion.
They wanted to keep him overnight.
