They have to wait.
Ryan’s not really dealt with hospitals before. He’s been on Alex’s end of it, when he broke his leg playing football when he was twelve. But he can’t remember being on this side of it—he was only three when Grandpa died, and six when Dad had that bout with cancer. He can’t really remember any of that.
Nan excuses herself to find the chapel, leaving him with a squeeze to the shoulder, some tissues, and money for the vending machines. He assures her that he’ll be all right, but there’s no way he’s moving from this spot in the corridor where they’ve left him. Not until he knows what’s happened.
Alex has been whacked off a coffee table. He’d been disoriented and bleeding all over the place—God knows how much blood he’d lost—and shaking like a leaf in Ryan’s arms. His voic
