Prologue 2

He nodded at Mac now, and walked over to the other man. Shane MacIntyre was hands-down the best neurologist that Sam had ever had the priviledge of working with, and although he had left the hospital to start his own private consulting practice – meaning that the man was rolling in cash, all his former colleagues presumed – he was still on-call for really bad cases that rolled into the E.R. Sarah Matthews had no idea how lucky she was that Mac had been among the first to see her after her brutal attack (Sam wasn’t sure where the connection lay, exactly, but based on his observations, it looked like Jax was Sarah’s boyfriend, and Mac was Jax’s friend), and Sam thanked every star twinkling above that Mac had been the one to bring her in. He’d started things up long before Sarah had hit the E.R., and that early care and intervention may have made all the difference for Sarah Matthews.

Or – based on her CT scans – maybe not. Maybe no matter what any of them did, there was not going to be any hope for this young woman.

God, Sam hated being the bearer of bad news.

Mac got to his feet, and King glanced up sharply. They all shot looks down the hall at Jax and Annie, but they were still totally absorbed in their conversation, but no way they would be for much longer. They had to talk, and fast.

“And?” Mac said brusquely, gesturing at the scans in Sam’s hand. “How bad?”

“Bad.” Sam gave Mac the x-rays, and Mac held them to the light, squinted, sighed. “You see it?”

“Fucking hell. Yeah.”

“Don’t say bad words,” Noah reproved him. “Sarah says that swearing is bad.”

“Sorry, Noah,” Mac said, giving him his trademark quirky grin. “Wanna wash my mouth out with soap?”

“Why would I do that?” Noah asked, clearly perplexed, as he clearly always was when he took things absolutely literally. “I like you, and soap doesn’t taste good.” He then returned his attention to his baseball cards and exited the conversation completely.

“See what?” King asked gesturing at the scans, keeping his voice low and his tone unconcerned for Noah’s sake, but trying to get the conversation back on track. “Anything very interesting?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mac handed the x-rays back to Sam. “Not overly surprising, considering everything, but… it’s a bad case, man. We’re going have to dig in and dig deep, for everyone’s sake. They’re going to need support. Trust me.”

“Whatever they need, they got it.” King’s voice was still warm, but his gray eyes were slate and steel. “All of ‘em.”

“Heads up,” Mac said suddenly. “Mother headed this way, and she’s on the warpath.”

“I’ll stay here,” King said, his tone jovial. “Noah? Want me to quiz you on your cards some more?”

“Yes,” Noah said. “Ask me about the players’ eye color.”

“Deal.” King nodded at Mac and Sam slightly. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck!” Noah said. “I just need my memory.”

“What’s her name?” Sam muttered under his breath as he and Mac hurried down the hall to meet Jax and the woman half-way. “Sarah’s Mom?”

“Annie,” Mac breathed back, close on his heels. “Annie Matthews.”

“Annie Matthews?” Sam said politely when they’d all reached each other.

“Yes.” She was tense and trembling, but her voice was steady. Her face was drawn and pinched, but it had a lovely curve to the cheekbones, a sensual curve to the lips. Sam saw her hands clasped tightly together, and was surprised by the sudden urge to gently take one. He refocused his thoughts, trying not to notice how beautiful and clear Annie’s blue eyes were. He sought refuge in the pedantic and familiar.

“I’m Doctor Sam Innis.”

“How’s Sarah?” she asked immediately.

Sam paused, feeling Jax’s dark green eyes boring a hole in his face, even as he kept his attention on Annie. “Mrs. Matthews, it’s very bad news.” He started to move back to the sofa that she and Jax had just abandoned. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No.” She practically spat out the word, then right away, as if she regretted her harsh tone, she softened a bit. “Tell me, please.”

Sam nodded, then launched into sentences and sentiments that he’d rattled off a hundred times, a thousand times – far, far too many times:

“She has a very serious head injury, I’m afraid, and it’s caused her brain to swell. This swelling is pushing down on Sarah’s brain stem, specifically on her RAS – the Reticular Activating System.”

Jax and Annie stared at him, utterly clueless and silent. Beside Sam, Mac sighed deeply. He knew what this meant, of course; God, did he ever. He knew that it meant that Sarah’s life was hanging in a delicate balance – far more delicate than Sam wanted Annie to know right this minute. After all, there was still a hope – slim, but it existed – that things might have turned around a bit by the morning.

“What does that mean?” Annie asked Mac and Sam, those incredible eyes wide with confusion. “What’s a rectangular what's-it system?”

“The RAS is responsible for awareness in the brain,” Mac said, and Sam happily acquiesced to the other man’s superior knowledge about anything to do with the human brain. “When it’s compromised or damaged, a person is rendered unconscious. And when it’s being pushed on – like when a person’s brain is severely swollen – then the person can’t wake up.”