Fourteen
The three-and-a-half-hour ride from Northstar to Missoula was excruciating. The miles and minutes dragged by even though Aaron drove faster than the already generous speed limit. Her right hand ached annoyingly, and she wished she’d taken Aaron up on his offer to stop at a gas station to pick up a bottle of ibuprofen or to make an ice pack, but the pain was nothing compared to the memories and scenarios that played through her mind. Aaron called the hospital several times throughout their drive for updates, running it through the Bluetooth in his truck so she could hear it, too, so they knew when Jeremiah had landed, but since then, every call had yielded the same answer—he was in surgery and there was no update.
No news is good news, she reminded herself. If he’d died, they wou
