Be My Baby (30 page)

I heard a familiar voice now. It was smooth
and silky. I felt relieved when I heard it. Thank God. It was my
Trey.

"Trey?" I whispered loudly.

I felt someone near. Someone's hand was
stroking my hair gently.

"It's Tristan," the voice said to me. "You
are going to be fine, Tylar."

I willed my eyes to open. Tristan wasn't
Trey but he was family and the closest thing that I had to Trey
apart from Preston. Tristan would tell me what the hell had
happened.

"Tristan? Where is Trey? What happened?"

I noticed that I was no longer in the ER. I
was now in a hospital room. It seemed as if I was always opening my
eyes to find myself in a hospital room over the past couple of
years.

Tristan was looking down at me. He looked
older than when I last saw him which had been only a little more
than a week ago. Or had it?

"Tristan for the love of God; talk to me.
Where is Trey? How long have I been here?"

"It's okay Tylar. You are at St. Matthew's.
You were admitted yesterday. You have a concussion and the doctor
wanted to keep you over a day or so to run some tests."

"And Trey?"

Tristan swallowed nervously.

(Oh God! This can't be good.)

"Trey is in surgery. He was critically
injured when he was hit yesterday."

"I need to be there. I need to be waiting
outside of surgery for when the doctor comes out to tell us that
everything went well; that Trey will be fine. Get a wheel chair if
you must Tristan, but please get me to the surgery floor."

I started to get up from my hospital bed. I
realized I was attached to various monitors. I started to pull the
IV needle out. Tristan's hand stayed mine.

"Tylar stop!" He had taken a very abrupt
tone with me. That was not Tristan's style.

I looked up quickly and saw the pain that
was evident in his eyes. He tried to stay calm for me.

"Tylar, Trey is not at this hospital. He had
to be care-flighted to Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville
for the surgery. They have one of the top neurosurgeons in the
country there. That is what he needs at the moment."

"Someone has to be with him Tristan; I need
to be with him."

"Mom and Dad are with him. You need to stay
right here and make sure that you are okay. That is what Trey would
want you to do."

I sank back against my pillow; the tears
flowed as if they had been damned up for years. I recalled the
events of yesterday. Someone had tried to run me down. Trey had
pushed me away. It should be me at Vanderbilt University Hospital
fighting for my life; not Trey.

"How bad is it, Tristan?"

"It's bad, honey. I won't lie. Trey coded
twice before getting to Vanderbilt. They wouldn't even consider the
surgery until they saw whether he would make it through the night.
He did. All we can do now is pray."

"It should have been me."

"What? What are you saying, Tylar? Don't
think like that."

"No, Tristan - you don’t
understand. It was
me
that driver was trying to mow down yesterday. It wasn't Trey.
Trey turned to look back at me and saw it. He pushed me out of the
way. It should have been me."

"Now stop talking like that, Tylar; I mean
it. You think I wouldn't have done the same thing? I would take a
bullet for Gina. That's how men love."

"If Trey doesn't pull out of this I will
never stop blaming myself, Tristan. It should have been me."

"It shouldn’t have been either one of you;
that fucking dumb bitch!"

"What dumb bitch?"

"The driver of that SUV was some bitch named
Karen Deeny. Your dad seems to know quite a bit about her motives.
He is here in Atlanta now. He's talking to the detectives. There
are loose ends to be tied up, I guess."

"Loose ends?"

"Yeah - thankfully she crashed into the
building on the corner when her vehicle careened out of control
after hitting Trey. The sorry bitch got her just desserts. She's
dead. Thank God she didn't take anyone else with her . . .
yet."

"Stop, Tristan!" I surprised myself with my
ability to shout at him. It took him by surprise.

"God, I'm sorry, Tylar. What the hell was I
thinking saying that?"

"Trey is
not
going to die - do
you hear me?"

Tristan bent down so that his face was level
with mine. I saw the tears well up in his eyes; I saw the pain that
he was in now as well.

"I'm sorry, Tylar," he repeated softly. "I'm
sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Tristan," I admonished him.
"You need to believe that Trey will be alright. Do you hear
me?"

He nodded solemnly; the tears were now
running down his cheeks.

"Where is Preston?"

"Gina is with her and Reese. She doesn't
know anything."

My tears continued their path down my
cheeks.

"Your doctor has ordered some tests for this
afternoon. Pending the preliminary results, you might be released
yet today or tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Tristan - I need to talk to my father as
soon as possible."

"Of course Tylar; he has been here. He will
be here just as soon as he is finished downtown."

I felt relieved; my father would know what
to do. My father would fix everything. I counted on that. I looked
at Tristan and my heart was heavy for the pain he was feeling right
now. It was nothing compared to my pain and guilt I felt over what
had happened. Trey was going to pull through. He simply had to for
us. Our love was strong enough to withstand this horrific incident.
It had to be. I couldn't - no strike that - I wouldn't live in a
world without Trey.

Tristan stayed with me until early
afternoon. He received a phone call from Susan; Trey was out of
surgery. They had been forced to drill holes through his skull to
relieve the pressure of the blood that had built up as a result of
brain hemorrhaging. His fractured skull was to the frontal area;
the blood had drained to the area toward the back.

Trey was listed in 'guarded' condition. The
next 24-48 hours were crucial.

Tristan explained Trey's other non-life
threatening injuries but I was in a fog. All I could think about
was getting to Trey's side.

My father stopped by my hospital room later
that afternoon. He had spent some time with the authorities tying
up whatever loose ends Tristan had mentioned. He was fully prepared
to detail them out to me when I held my hand up for him to
stop.

"Dad, please - not right now. I know that I
need to know everything that you have found out at some point, but
for now, I just can't handle it. I'm on emotional overload."

"Of course darling - what was I thinking?
The most important thing is for you to get better and get out of
here."

"No, Dad. The most important thing is for me
to be with my husband."

"Sweetheart, Tristan
has
given you the updates. Trey is out of
surgery and in recovery. He is in 'guarded' condition but stable.
For what he has gone through, that is optimistic."

"I need to hear that from a doctor, Dad. No
disrespect, but please, think about how I feel. No one has told me
that other than people that love me. I need to hear that from
someone who will give me an honest, objective opinion."

"Tylar - at this point it is too early to
tell anything specific. He is in intensive post-op; he can't even
have visitors until such time as he is moved to a step-down
unit."

"Provided my test results show no blood
clots or swelling in the brain, I will be released tomorrow
afternoon. Will you please charter a plane so that I can get to
Nashville?"

He gave me a heavy sigh - he knew that I
would not relent until I was with my husband.

"What about Preston?" he asked.

"She will stay with Gina for now. I need to
assess the situation with Trey. She isn't old enough to comprehend
the condition her father is in. To be honest, I'm worried as to
whether I can handle it. But that is neither here nor there. I will
be at his side."

"Very well, Tylar. I will make the
arrangements. Please try and calm yourself down and rest,
okay?"

"I will, Dad."

CHAPTER 25

I was released from the hospital the
following afternoon. I was diagnosed with a slight concussion;
facial bruising and a mild case of whiplash. The doctors indicated
I would be back to normal in a matter of four or five weeks. Until
then, I had no restrictions other than to avoid any physical
activities which would serve to aggravate my head or neck.

As promised, my father was there with a
suitcase that Gina had packed for me and drove me to the private
air field where the commissioned private plane and pilot waited to
take me to Nashville. Tristan had left the previous evening for
Nashville; Susan and Clive had headed back to Atlanta to stay with
Reese and Preston so that Gina could handle the club in Tristan's
absence. As always, this family pulled together in times of tragedy
and strife.

"I wish you were coming with me, Dad. I'm
frightened of what I might find when I get there."

"That's understandable, darling. I would
accompany you if I could but I have an appeal hearing that requires
my immediate return to Baton Rouge. I will get up this weekend for
sure. You will be fine. You are stronger than you think, Tylar.
There will be a limo to take you to the hospital; I've also
reserved an apartment for you at a nearby Marriott. Please call me
this evening to check in?"

"I will, Dad," I replied, hugging him
tightly as I headed out the door to the tarmac. He stayed at the
door watching until the small jet had safely taken off.

I had texted Tristan from the plane giving
him my ETA at the hospital. He said to text him when I came in
through the hospital lobby and he would come down to meet me.

Once there, I did as instructed and Tristan
appeared within moments coming off of the elevator and heading down
the hallway to greet me.

"How is he?" I asked guardedly.

"He is pretty much the same, Tylar. But for
now, that is the best that we can hope for. His vitals remain
strong. He is in a coma which is to be expected. The doctors say
that comas are the body's way of shutting down overactive brain
activity to allow the patient to heal."

"Do they know when he will come out of
it?"

"No honey, it is different with everyone. We
just have to be patient and vigilant."

I totally intended to be vigilant. I was not
going to leave Trey's side until he woke up.

Tristan held the door to the elevator open
while I got in ahead of him. He followed behind. It was strange to
see him so solemn. I could tell he was trying to be as optimistic
as possible for me.

Tristan guided me into Trey's hospital room,
his hand on my elbow. The first thing that caught my attention was
how gloomy the room was; there was no sunlight filtering in from
the outside. The mini blinds were closed shut. This would not
do!

I immediately left Tristan's side and went
over to the window and twisted the wand so that the blinds opened
allowing the golden sunlight to filter into Trey's room.

There. That was much better. It wouldn't do
for Trey to wake up to a dark and gloomy tomb. I turned and lowered
my eyes to the hospital bed where Trey slept in his deep coma. I
studied his beautiful face. It was swollen on one side near the top
of his cheekbone. Most of his face was black and blue. Several
lacerations that had been stitched with black thread were around
his hairline and temples.

He had a white gauze bandage wrapped several
times around his head that was about 5" wide. The hair to the left
side towards the back of his head had been shaved for the surgery.
There was an additional pad cushioning the area where the
neurosurgeon had drilled through Trey's skull in order to relieve
the pressure of the bleeding.

His right arm was in a cast and sling; his
left wrist had been broken and was in a splint. He had suffered
three broken ribs as well; one had punctured a lung.

According to Tristan, the doctors were
amazed it hadn't been worse. They attributed his lack of bone
breakage to his healthy physique. He had 'landed' well as they put
it. There was nothing that could have protected his head
though.

The surgeon had succeeded in doing what
needed to be done. The rest was up to Trey and to God. Even the
doctors had made that comment according to Tristan. He said I would
meet his surgeon tomorrow when he checked him again.

Tristan was studying me. I could feel his
emerald eyes watching me. What was he expecting? Did he think I
would melt? Did he think I would dissolve into a million pieces in
front of my husband? If that it was he was thinking he didn't have
a clue as to how I rolled.

I had read many times that comatose patients
retain their hearing to some degree. I had also read that those who
had experienced near death experiences and survived spoke of being
caught between two worlds and being somewhat cognizant of what was
going on around them. I wasn't sure which path Trey was currently
exploring, but what I did know was that I had some things to say to
him and they were going to be said.

I turned to Tristan.

"I need some time alone with Trey."

Tristan's face was caught between indecision
and concern. He finally could find no reason to stay; he turned and
left the room, the door closing behind him.

It was just me and Trey now; and the
assortment of life preserving equipment that surrounded us. I
looked at my husband's battered body and his beauty remained.
Nothing could take that from him; that was just Trey.