Page 38 of A Burning Rage

I know they mean well, but every reassuring word is like a dagger to my heart, because what if they’re wrong? Shane is many things—a wonderful husband, a loving father, a loyal son and brother and friend—but he’s also just a man. He’s not superhuman.

The truth is, I still don’t know if he’s alive. The last time I saw him, his complexion was ashen. He was so still, so lifeless. It might already be too late.

We’re still waiting for someone to come out and give us an update on his condition. Maybe the fact we haven’t heard anything yet is good news. Surely, if he were already gone, someone would have informed me.

I return to my seat, feeling utterly numb and wanting to shut out everything. I need to see Shane. I need to hear his voice. My throat tightens, nearly choking me.

As I glance around at the crowd of people, I see lots of reddened eyes and tear-stained faces.

Annie comes to kneel in front of me. “Your mom is at your house watching all of the kids.”

There are eight grandkids in all—eight under the age of eight—and all but two are toddlers and infants. That’s a lot of work for one person.

“Don’t worry, she’s not alone,” Annie says as if reading my mind. “When Joe Rucker heard what happened, he kindly offered to help.” She glances at my blood-stained hands. “Would you like to wash your hands? I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, right.” I stare down at my hands as if I’m just now noticing. “Yes, thank you.”

Cooper helps me stand, and I follow Annie to a nearby restroom. She turns on the water, and when it warms up, she guides me over to the sink. I stand here like a mannequin, unmoving, just staring at my reflection in the mirror while she lathers up my hands and scrubs them briskly.

When she rinses my hands, I glance down to see the blood-stained water swirling around the drain. Finally, the water runs clear. Annie turns off the faucet and grabs a few paper towels to dry my hands.

“I’m so sorry, Beth,” she says, her eyes filled with pain.

“Thanks.” I appreciate that she doesn’t give me empty platitudes. Everyone means well, and they’re trying to be supportive, but words aren’t going to fix what’s wrong. Words won’t save Shane.

When we return to the waiting room, Troy Spencer is here, as well as Shane’s restauranteur friend, Peter Capelli, and Peter’s sister, Gina.

Everyone who is part of Shane’s inner circle is here to offer support.

Troy walks up to me and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t have to. I can read what he’s feeling in his eyes. What we’re all feeling.

Shane, please don’t leave us.

A hush falls over the waiting room when an unmarked door off to the side opens and a middle-aged woman with short silver hair, dressed in medical scrubs, walks out. Her expression is neutral, giving absolutely nothing away. She scans our group, adjusting her wire-framed glasses. “Shane McIntyre?”

I jump to my feet. “I’m Shane’s wife.”

The woman nods as she comes toward me. “I’m Dr. Markowski. I’m one of the physicians who is treating your husband.”

Treating him? That must mean he’s alive.

My heart thunders. “Is he—” The words die in my throat because I can’t bring myself to say the three words that mean the most. Is he alive?

The woman nods. “We’ve been able to stabilize him. He’s lost a lot of blood, so we’re giving him some now to prepare him for surgery.”

“How bad are his injuries?” Cooper asks. His deep voice is calm and steady.

“We won’t know the extent of the damage until we get in there,” the doctor says. “There is significant internal bleeding. Stopping that is our first priority. Then we’ll be able to assess any damage to his organs.” Her expression is carefully guarded. “He’s in critical condition, Mrs. McIntyre. I’m afraid I can’t give you a prognosis at this time.”

“But he’ll be okay, right?” I ask, desperately hoping she’ll give me at least a sliver of hope I can cling to.

Her lips flatten. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make any promises. It’s too soon to tell.”

My knees give out, and Cooper catches me. Sam moves in beside me, and the two of them lower me into my seat.

The doctor’s expression falls, revealing a brief glimpse of emotion. “I wish I had better news for you, but right now we just don’t know. We’ll update you as we have more information.”

“Thanks,” Cooper says as he sits in the chair beside mine. “Please let us know what you find.”