Maybe There's No Mistakes..

•forty one•

We were on hour three in the ER and I have concluded that not only are Austin and Rich the same identical person, but they also do not do well with waiting. Between Rich pacing and sticking his head out the door and Austin whining and prowling through every drawer and cabinet in this room... I'm very ready to be out of here. Rich also discovered a coffee machine that gives free tiny paper cups of espresso, I'm beginning to worry his heart might explode. The caffeine also isn't helping with the pacing.

After I had quickly showered and dressed I went and found Leah and Clint, giving them the heads up that we were not going to be making the party and I felt terrible about it. They had to catch their flight tomorrow, and I promised her I would call her and let her know what was going on soon. I felt better knowing I would see them at Austin's party soon. This also had put Adam and Kenna in a bind because they were flying with us to Salt Lake, now we have no idea what time we will get on the plane. Depending on what the orthopedic surgeon says, they might be flying out without us.

The ER attending seems to think everything is fine. Austin does need stitches, and has a fractured pinky but fingers crossed he didn't damage anything badly enough to need surgery. Pun intended.

Currently we are waiting on the surgeon for a consult, he is going to go over what he finds with a doctor in LA that Cheryl got him in touch with. Talks of specialists and flights to LA if we needed him to be seen tonight. I quickly realized how bad a serious hand injury would be for him. Especially right now, just a few weeks before he was supposed to be recording.

Rich had just popped back out of the room, hopefully not for more espresso, and I had been sitting in some guilt for a little while.

"I'm sorry Austin, I shouldn't have reacted to Dre like that, none of this would have happened if I didn't have some knee jerk reaction." I sighed and laid my head on my arms crossed on his belly. He was laying on the hospital bed, in his matching pj's by the way, he's very proud of this.. he had been flipping through the channels of the tiny tv on the wall in the corner. He started running his uninjured hand through my hair and down my back.

"Don't you feel sorry for anything Sara. This shit would have happened no matter if you bitch slapped the fuck out of him or not."

"Oh Jesus Austin, I didn't 'bitch slap the fuck' out of him. It was just a slap..."

"It was like I was watching a UFC fight, I saw spit fly out of his mouth in slow motion Sara, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..."

"You are dramatic.."

"His jaw wobbled Sara. I was waiting on someone to ring a bell..." he laughed.

"I still feel guilty. I mean... what the fuck do you do now? You don't have a manager. Are you really firing him?" I turned my head in his lap, looking up at him.

"Fuck yes I'm really firing him. You think I'm gonna let him get away with saying that shit to you? He had one chance and he blew it. Fuck him. You know this was a long time coming. Cheryl is going to help me out until I can get someone new. It won't be hard to find someone who wants to work for me, and this time around I'll be a hell of a lot more picky about who I'm hiring." The door popped open and Rich came back with a sandwich and a bottle of water. Thankfully. "I'll have people beating down my door who will want to work for me baby. Don't be worried about that. Only thing is we will probably have to make a couple more trips out to LA than we had planned. Interviews and whatnot."

"Thank god you renegotiated that asshole's contract when you did son... I'm glad you finally got rid of him, there are much better people out there for you. Someone who will value you for more than what you can do for them. Dre's always been out for Dre. Not you. You owe a big thank you to ol' Ronda Rousey over here for making the first move." Rich said taking a bite of his sandwich and pointing it at me.