Page 70 of The Callahan Effect

I never released Mason's hand.

After what felt both like seconds and an eternity, the stretcher arrived. The physicians secured Mason carefully before lifting him onto it, one trainer maintaining pressure over the dressing as another continued monitoring him. I stayed beside him until the last possible second, my hand remaining wrapped around his even as they began moving toward the tunnel.

One of the physicians looked back at me.

"Come with us."

Dad caught my eye and gave a quick nod of encouragement. I didn't hesitate to follow.

The ambulance doors closed behind us, shutting out the arena, the game, and everything else. As the siren rose into the evening, I sat beside Mason holding his hand, praying the next time my fingers closed around his, he'd be awake.

***

The waiting room outside the surgical suite seemed to exist in a world where time refused to behave normally. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.

Nurses moved through the department with the calm efficiency I'd admired since beginning my clinical rotations there. Several offered me encouraging smiles as they passed, each recognizing me not only as one of the fourth-year medical students completing clinical rotations at the hospital but as the young man who'd arrived beside the injured hockey player from Evergreen.

Families occupied chairs around me, each carrying fears of their own. Nobody spoke very much. They didn't need to. Hope looked remarkably similar no matter who happened to be waiting.

After Mason had been admitted and taken to surgery, one of the nurses, Amy, recovered his personal belongings and brought them across to me.

"Here you go, Jack."

I looked up from where I sat with my head in my hands.

"If you need anything, let us know."

I managed a grateful nod before unlocking Mason's phone with hands that still refused to stop trembling. I stood slowly and slipped out of the waiting room, barely noticing where my feet carried me until I found myself standing in an alcove overlooking the ambulance entrance. The hospital around me continued its relentless flow of arriving patients, departing visitors, and staff moving with practiced purpose, yet for a few precious minutes I was alone.

I drew a long, unsteady breath before pressing the video call button.

Mrs. Brooks answered almost immediately. Her eyes were red, her face pale, and it was obvious she'd been crying. The instant she recognized me, the questions came before I had a chance to type a single word.

"Jack...where's Mason? Which hospital is he in? Is he awake?"

I raised one finger, silently asking her to give me time, then opened the notes app and typed as quickly as my trembling fingers allowed before turning the screen toward the camera.

Providence Sacred Heart Medical Center. They think the skate that sliced across his side may have damaged tendons and blood vessels so they've taken him straight to surgery to assess and repair the damage. Surgeons are optimistic, but they won't know more about his head injury until he's awake.

Mr. Brooks stepped into view beside her.

"We saw it happen," he said softly, his own voice strained. "We've already booked flights."

I thought you might have.

"We leave within the hour. We'll come straight to the hospital."

I'll stay with him until you get here.

Mrs. Brooks pressed her hand against her mouth briefly before lowering it.

"Thank you, Jack."

Mr. Brooks held my gaze through the screen.

"Take care of him until we get there."

I will.