My Imagine

Chapter 33

Two police men walk up to the car about two minutes later. One goes to the drunk man in the car behind you and the other goes to Barry and the couple from the truck. A third doctor follows her law enforcement pals onto the scene. She opens Sawyer's door and checks you two over. She notices his wrist and helps him get out and to a waiting ambulance twelve cars away. You panic and follow them nervously.
She makes you two sit down on the edge of the back while the she checks you both over. "You got lucky there." she says as she starts to look at Sawyer's wrist. He grits his teeth and hisses in pain as she prods it at his arm.
Finally, after many agonizing looks from Sawyer, the doctor determines that he has a broken wrist . "It's not too bad," she soothes. "But you'll need to get an X-ray just to check things out. Hop in, and I'll clear things up with your driver. If you want to call someone, now's the time."
She starts to walk away, but then she stops after a few steps and turns around. "I'm sorry," she says. "I don't want to make it such an inconvenience, but it's necessary."
She leaves to clear things up with Barry and Sawyer sighs heavily. "Great." he mutters. "No guitar."
You get out your cell and pat him on the back while looking at the screen. "No guitar." you agree.
You redial DeeDee and wait for her to pick up. It only takes two rings this time. She must keep it in her pocket 24/7.
"Status update?" she says, not wasting any time.
"It's not looking too good. Barry and I are fine, but Sawyer might have a broken wrist. Sprained at least."
You can hear as she lowers the phone from her ear to relay the information to someone. "Oh no," she groans. "This isn't good. Can I talk to him?"
You hand the phone to Sawyer. "It's DeeDee." you tell him. He takes it gingerly in his good hand and strikes up a conversation about what happened. You sit there awkwardly as they talk, and after he almost drops the phone while trying to hang up, you dial your mother's work number. It rings for a while, then takes you to voicemail. Taking a deep breath, you wait for the tone and start the recording.
"Hey Mom. It's me. We're all good here. Just wanted to say hi. Call me back later if you can, and say hi to Dad for me. I love you guys. Bye."
Sawyer looks at you as you hang up the phone. "This sucks," he complains.
"How do you think I feel? I have to put with you complaining now!" You poke his ribs and he giggles. "Stop that!" he shrieks as you do it again. His hair falls into his face and he reaches up to brush it away out of habit. He hisses in pain as his hand makes contact.
"Here, let me help you with that." you say, pulling an extra hair tie from your pocket. You position yourself behind him and start combing through his locks with your fingers. You have to hold in an agonizing sob as he doesn't resist, and even leans a little into you as you pull it all into the band.
"Sawyer?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I braid your hair?"
He laughs and shakes his head. "Nope."
You make a pouty face and look over his shoulder so he can see. "Pretty please?" you whine.
He's firm on his answer. "No." he chuckles.
You glare at him. "What do you have against having your hair braided? Is it some sort of weird phobia?" You gasp for effects. "Is that why you also refuse to wear man buns?"
He laughs. "Have you allied yourself with the Twitter campaign to get me to wear one of those?" he teases.
You laugh too, and while he's chuckling you stop for a moment to appreciate how attractive he is. Small and thin, but stronger than most guys you know. Gentle arms that are perfect for throwing around bales of hay, or wrapping you up in a warm hug. His eyes that can chill you to the bone. His perfect hair, but that's a new level entirely to it's own. His casual farm boy clothes that make him seem more genuine. The hats are, like the hair, on a whole new level. Everything about him seems to be perfect, but you know that's just a bonus feature. All that matters to you is what's on the inside , and in that case, Sawyer's the full package. Great sense of humor, amazing smile, one of the best friends anyone could ever have, and a pure soul. He sees the good in everything, and it's impossible to be sad around him, because he'll either make you feel better or be sad with you so you'll lean on him and know it's okay to be sad. He lets you know you aren't alone.
You climb numbly into the back of the ambulance with Sawyer. You avoid looking at him for a minute or two to get your mind back under control. You can faintly hear Barry talking with the doctor in the front, but you can't hear what they're saying. Sawyer leans back and closes his eyes for the ride. You arrive at the hospital shortly, and you step out of the ambulance and make the short walk to the ER and wait around for an orthopedic. One finally comes, and after one quick look over he orders an X-ray for Sawyer. He walks Sawyer to the scan, and you have to sit impatiently in the waiting room with Barry, who only has a few scratches and bruises from the airbag.
And from there, you wait.