This One is Too

Chapter Twelve

Josie

Bright florescent lights, the smell of antiseptic that burns my nose, squeaking shoes against the shiny tile. I'm sitting with Tabitha in a private waiting area, because I've fainted twice. The nurse gave me some medication that's made me feel like a zombie, and I'm hyper-aware of my surroundings.

The tick of the clock on the wall, the sound of Tabitha biting her nails.

I want to cry, but the medicine has numbed me.

If Hudson dies because of me...

I can't even complete the thought. It's been a couple hours since they rushed him back. We haven't had an update and it's driving me mad. But I know that no news is good news in situations like these.

I can't believe I could be so stupid. I got comfortable here and forgot people might be watching me at every turn. I can't believe I could be that selfish.

I let the way I wanted him blur my vision. I forgot why I can't have him in the first place.

It's got nothing to do with me and everything to do with Trey and my family. They're fucking psychopaths and I couldn't afford to forget the risk involved.

Something has got to give.

"I can't believe this happened. I wonder why anyone would want to hurt him?" Tabitha's eyes are rimmed red and she presses a tissue to her nose.

"People are sick." And I will kill them all with my bare hands given the opportunity.

"Come on." Amelia pops her head in the door, not making eye contact with me. I don't blame her. I can tell she's been crying, too, and this is the least put together I've ever seen her. "They have an update."

I rush out of my seat and follow her down the hall, with Tabitha trailing along.

In the bigger waiting room, Matt, Dave and Jake all wait. All three of them look a mix of angry and worried, and Jake has clearly been picking his lips, because they're scabbed and red. The usual lightheartedness that accompanies the guys isn't there, which is to be expected. It's just strange how tragedy can make people vulnerable in different ways.

The white-coated doctor stands with her scrub cap on and tired eyes as we gather around her.

"I'm only supposed to talk to immediate family, but I understand these circumstances are a little different." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "Please keep this information confidential."

"All due respect, ma'am. Please tell us the update already." It's Dave's voice, I think, but I can't take my eyes off the doctor to look.

"Of course. Hudson sustained a gunshot wound to his back, going underneath the right shoulder before exiting. He's very lucky." She nods, and we all release a breath together. "The bullet could've hit several different things on it's way through, and it didn't manage to attack anything significant. It was only centimeters away from a main artery."

Bile rises in my throat. Centimeters away from a main artery? Just a slightly more accurate shot or him standing in a different position and he'd be dead.

He's okay, I tell myself. He's going to be okay, don't think about the what ifs.

"How long will recovery take?"

"If he rests properly and takes care of the wound, I would say he can begin light activity whenever he feels like he's ready. Light activity." She stresses, "Not shows or working out. Nothing strenuous. The stiches will be taken out after three weeks. From there, he can begin slowly introducing exercise, but he'll still need to take it easy for about six weeks."