Nate (A Texas Jacks Novel) (40 page)

What’s he doing here?
I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up, knowing I’ll be here, hanging on Charlie.
Why is she even letting him do that?
This can’t be right. I have to be imaging things, right? I’ve had Charlie on my mind for the last few days, and I’ve barely been able to sleep, let alone function. I’m torn up, and I’m ready to stop this madness. But now, this? Charlie and Dave? I see nothing in front of me, as I tear off around the track again. Everything is hazy and my mind is going a million miles a second.

Is this why she’s been avoiding me? So she can see him? Has she decided we’re done, and she would rather give Dave a chance? What, he won’t break her heart? No. He wouldn’t. Instead, he wouldn’t give her enough space to breathe. I’m sickened by the fact that he has her undivided attention when I can’t get a single second of her time. I know she didn’t see me when she showed up, nor when she searched me out from the bleachers. I had to step back and hide myself, so I could see what was going on. Just watching him touch her, makes me see red. I want to pull him away from her, instead I’m out here skulking like a little boy.

I make it around the track again, slowing down to pull over to the side. I just happen to look over to where they are, where I can just barely make them out—still, I can see Dave sitting right up against her side, squished in by someone else. That’s it. I decide that I can’t take it anymore.

I slam on the brakes, and come to a dead stop. I jump off my bike, not really thinking about what I’m doing, but knowing I have to get to Charlie. I’m the only one for her, and I’m going to find a way to cope and lay bare to her my feelings—once and for all.

I start walking towards her, pushing my heavy bike along when the next thing I know, I’m airborne. I slam back into something, smacking my head. My body hurts, and I can’t really move before the lights fade to black.

There’s a collective gasp in the audience, then a deafening roar of silence, before pandemonium breaks out. People start jumping up from the stands, pushing and shoving, while trying to get out of the bleachers and down to the ground.

“What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular. I look back to the track, just in time to see a bike eat dirt. From there it’s a domino effect. There are a few more crashes, or people jumping off their bikes so they don’t crash into the pile-up that’s already created.

“Charlie, I want you to come with me. Please.” Holt says, taking me by my arm, gently.

“Why? What’s going on? What happened?” I completely missed everything, but I recall hearing a distant screaming. I thought it was others here, acting up and having fun. I turn all around, looking at everyone in confusion. Some people are starting to look over at me, giving me funny or sad looks. I furrow my brow, and then it dawns on me.

“No.” My nose stings and my eyes prick with tears. “No. It’s not Nate.” I look over to the guys, questioning them with my eyes. Holt looks at me with a tender smile, but Tucker can’t even look me in the eye. He just gets up, and takes Naomi with him towards the track.

“It’s alright; everything is going to be just fine.” Halley reassures me, but I don’t even know what happened. Not really. I push passed everyone and jump down from the stand of seats to the next one until I’m safely planted on the ground. Then I go running for the field. Someone tries to yell my name, and a few people try to grab me, but I’m good at evading and I pump my legs faster as I run towards the crash of men, and bikes.

I come to halting stop, when I can only see a tangle of metal and flesh. There’s blood, and plastic pieces dotting the area. I still can’t see Nate. He’s probably not even in here. I didn’t even see him racing, but by my friends’ reactions, he has to be in this mess. I don’t want to believe it, but I have a sinking feeling of what I will find in the aftermath.

“NATE!” I start screaming into the chaos. “Nathan!” I scream again, trying to look all over in case I miss him. Men start turning their heads my way, looking at me in pity as I continue to scream his name. My eyes well up, and blur my line of vision. I can barely see, but I know I won’t find what I’m looking for.

“Get out of my way!” I yell at the onlookers. “MOVE!” I hysterically cry and scream at them. I start pushing and fighting my way through them, as I make my way to the center of attention. I see other men pulling bikes away, and men limping away from the scene. They clear the way to get to the people buried under the bikes, who are still stuck in the entanglement.

I stand at the front now, watching and waiting when I feel myself surrounded by others, who I know automatically, will be our friends. I can’t do anything, but wait and watch. I know I can’t get in the way of anyone. In the meantime, I randomly hear people reporting the incident to 911. The minute I realize this is bigger than life, I start to breathe in shallow little breaths. I feel the anxiety kick in, and I can barely pull air into my lungs. But I can’t stop watching. People try to tug me away. Some try to talk to me but I feel like I’m in a tunnel and everything is drowned out. The rescuers finally get to the last one and I feel it. I just know it deep in my bones, that it’s Nate.

The moment I glimpse the color of his riding jacket, and then see his special helmet, I lose it. I can’t breathe. My chest hurts, and I can’t pull in enough air because he’s not moving. I lean over, resting my hands on my thighs, hanging my head down as I try to get oxygen into my lungs. I feel hands on my back, rubbing in a soothing circular motion, while someone speaks calmingly into my ear. It takes a few moments, but I start to barely pull myself together. The minute my lungs get enough air flow, I stand up—swaying with dizziness, then launch myself in Nate’s direction. I make it to him and drop to my knees.

He’s not moving, as I search him for any signs of broken bones, and to see if his chest is moving. His right arm is at an odd angle, and he’s bleeding, but I can’t see where it’s coming from. No one removes his helmet, incase he’s had trauma elsewhere that can cause more damage. I sit there, in shock, looking at this man who doesn’t realize how much I love him, feeling helpless. I can’t move him, and I certainly can’t paw all over him to make sure he’s not broken completely. Sitting back on my haunches, I can only stare and silently sob—while silently praying he will be fine in the end, and it’s worse than it looks.

A short time later, I’m pulled away so paramedics can evaluate him, and then move him into the ambulance. This is all going on while I’m going through the motions, not really connecting with anything, or anyone. I just can’t tear my eyes off of Nate, fearing that if I do, he won’t come back to me.

They ask me if I’ll ride with Nate in the ambulance, but it’s not my voice that answers them. I don’t think. It certainly doesn’t sound like me but it has to be because I find myself being helped into the back right before they close the door. I sit down, reaching out a hand to touch his face, his hand, and then laying it on his thigh, hoping those were all safe places to touch without causing more harm.

The ambulance starts up, the sirens begin to wail, and the paramedic starts asking me questions that I can’t answer. We make it to the emergency room, but I’m in daze as they help me out of the back area, and then lead me with Nate into the automatic doorway. They start calling off information to others who work there, and someone leads me to the waiting room, sits me down, and then moves on. Our friends show up not too long after I arrived, and sit around me in opened chairs. They try to sooth me, but I don’t hear a word they say. It’s like I hear it, then it fades before it can stick.

That’s the last thing I remember before I slump in my seat, in the waiting room, and cry my heart out before I succumb to the darkness that calls to me. My body, and mind are exhausted and the night wins the battle and pulls me under.

“F
AMILY OF
M
R.
J
ACKSON?”
I hear someone call out into the waiting room. I automatically jump up from my seat to find the speaker, who happens to be the doctor we spoke to hours earlier.

“Yes, that’s me.” I anxiously await his prognosis with bated breath.

“Mr. Jackson is comfortably resting in his room now. You can come back with me, if you like. We can discuss his prognosis in privacy.” He looks around the room at the rest of our friends, and I wonder for a moment if he’s thinking of not letting me go back there. “I see you are all still here. Very well then. Let’s move to a quieter area of the room so I can update everyone at once.” He moves off to a corner of the waiting room, where no one else is hanging out.

“Mr. Jackson,” he starts, looking at each of us, “is going to be just fine. He will have a long recovery, but didn’t sustain any internal injuries. He’s very lucky that he wasn’t killed, and has no internal bleeding, especially after being crushed by the dirt bikes. He suffered a concussion as he slammed his head against the ground, or the objects crashing on him. Even with his helmet on, it caused some damage. I’m surprised he didn’t suffer much worse. But, he did break the ulna in his right arm, and he broke a few ribs, and his nose. That’s where most of the bleeding came from—the nose. He also has contusions all over his body. We will keep him in the hospital for the next two days, to monitor his head injury. We will then reevaluate his prognosis from there.” He looks over at me, and then turns to leave. I follow him to Nathan’s room. I’m worried about him, still. Even though the doctor said he’ll be okay, I need proof. Thinking this, I stop and turn to look at our friends.
Should I be the one going in first?
I worry my bottom lip, wondering what I should do.