The man was silent for a few seconds. “It was a pretty bad fall, Miss Hudson. You should probably get to the hospital. Maybe have someone drive you.”

Why wasn’t he telling me if Parker would be okay or not? Why was he talking like he wouldn’t be? Fat tears quickly fell down my cheeks, and my head jerked to the right when my boss touched my shoulder.

“I’m going,” I said into the phone before ending the call and letting my boss help me stand.

“What happened? I heard you—­”

“P-­parker was rushed—­” I cut off on a sob, and pressed down onto Coen’s name on my phone. “I have to go.”

He just nodded and stepped back as I frantically searched for my purse.

I took off running down the hall and out of the building as Coen’s voice mail picked up. Ending the call only to call him again, I begged for him to answer.

Just before I ended the call again, he answered. “Hey, Ray, I’m in the middle of a shoot.” He must have heard my sobs because he quickly asked, “Babe, what’s wrong?” Panic filled his tone.

“Parker’s school called! They said—­they said he fell off something on the playground and was unconscious.” Another sob burst from my chest as I cranked the engine on my car and pulled out of the parking spot. “He was taken to the hospital by ambulance, he still wasn’t waking up by the time they left. He said it was bad, Coen, he couldn’t even tell me he was going to be okay!”

Coen’s ragged breaths filled the phone. “What? No . . . no.”

I choked on my tears, and the sound must have finally broken through Coen’s denial.

“Oh my God. I’m on my way.”

“Coen, tell me he’s going to be okay,” I pleaded.

“He’s going to be fine, Reagan. He’s going to be fine. Babe, you shouldn’t be driving. Pull over, let me pick you up.”

“No!” I yelled. “I can’t sit here and do nothing, I need to get to him. I have to go!”

“Damn it!” he gritted, but I knew by his tone that he’d acknowledged I wouldn’t be waiting for him. “Reagan Hudson, listen to me. Keep yourself safe. I’m on my way and I’ll meet you there.”

I nodded and whispered some sort of good-­bye before ending the call and calling my mom. The entire time I prayed Parker would be okay.

Coen—­October 27, 2010

I PARKED IN the first spot I found, and didn’t even bother to check if it was a handicap space or not. I didn’t fucking care. They could tow my car if they wanted. I’d already run out on a client after barely telling him why I was leaving, and gone over double the speed limit the entire way . . . a goddamn handicap space wasn’t going to stop me from getting in that hospital.

Running into the ER, I looked around the waiting room and rushed to the window when I didn’t see Reagan or anyone from her family. “Parker Hudson.”

The lady looked at me like I’d just ruined her day before sighing. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Parker Hudson, he was brought in here by ambulance not long ago. Where is he?” Adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I was five seconds from breaking through the locked doors and finding him myself. I didn’t know if Reagan had made it here okay, I didn’t know if Parker was awake yet . . . I was flipping the fuck out.

Recognition hit her eyes. “His mother just came through here. You can wait out here for now, it’s only family allowed back there.”

I slammed my hand on the counter. “And he’s my son, where the fuck is he?!”

The security guard I’d passed when I entered the ER walked up behind me. “Sir, I suggest you calm down.”

Looking over my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes at him until he took a step back before looking back at the woman behind the window. “Lady, do not keep me from them right now,” I said darkly. “Not after the phone call I just received. They need me, and I need to be back there. Now tell me. Where. Is. He.”

She forcefully swallowed and straightened. “Room thirteen.”

Pushing away from the counter, I walked quickly over to the doors and waited until I heard the beep before pulling them open and jogging through the crowded halls. Turning a corner, I saw a flag over a door with the number thirteen on it, and quickened my steps. Stepping in, I came to a stop when I saw Reagan talking with a doctor, and just past them was Parker, hooked up to too many machines.

I’d seen some of the worst things anyone could witness in this world—­and, granted, I couldn’t sleep from it—­but seeing Parker lying in that bed was enough to make my knees go weak and all the air leave my lungs.

A short cry burst past Reagan’s lips, and she launched herself into my arms.

“I’m here, baby,” I managed to choke out as I pressed my lips to her head. “I’m here.” Looking up at the doctor, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It didn’t matter how much it killed me to see Reagan break down, or to see Parker in that bed, they needed someone strong right now. “How is he?”

“Coen?” Parker mumbled, and I squeezed Reagan tighter to me. When she didn’t react to it, I waited for the doctor to speak.

The doctor assessed the position I was in with Reagan, and figured it was fine to talk. “Good news is that even though there seemed to be a lot of blood, it was only because it was a head injury. The cut isn’t big enough to require stitches even. We’re waiting on the techs to come and take him back for X-­rays so we can make sure there’s no major swelling or any cracks on his skull. I don’t know how much you know, but he was unconscious for a bit there. He’s awake, but he feels nauseous and the lights are bothering him, so he’s keeping his eyes closed. Typical of a concussion.” He closed the folder and looked at me. “Do you have any questions?”

“Ray?” I asked quietly. When she shook her head, I moved us away from the door. “No.”

“All right then, I’ll be back once I have the scans. Techs should be in here any minute to take him back.”

“Thank you.”

I waited until he was out of the room and had shut the door before kissing the top of Reagan’s head again, and pulling back. “You okay?”

Tears were still streaming down her face, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

I tried to smile for her, but I wasn’t sure if she bought it. “See? He’s going to be fine. He’s tough. Aren’t you, bud?” I asked as I walked us closer to the bed and grabbed the hand that only had one wire coming off it.

“Because I eat my food,” Parker slurred.

If he didn’t currently look like shit, I would have laughed. “That’s right. Because you eat your food.”

“Were my parents or brother here yet?” Reagan asked softly.

“No, do you want me to go check?”

She gripped the hand she was still holding harder. “Don’t leave,” she begged. Sitting carefully on the side of the bed, she cupped Parker’s cheek. “How do you feel, honey?”

“Not good.”

A pained smile tugged at her lips. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make it go away.”

Parker nodded once just as the door opened, and the X-­ray technicians walked in. After explaining what they would be doing, and getting ready to take Parker away, he started screaming.

“No! Please, Mommy, don’t go!”

“I’m not going anywhere, honey, stop screaming. You’re going to make it hurt worse.”

“Don’t make me go!”

Reagan looked at me helplessly before looking at the techs.

“One of you can come with him, but you’ll have to stand outside the room,” one of the techs said. “Parker, will you be okay if your mom comes and stands outside the room?”

He groaned, but nodded.

I squeezed her hand before releasing her. “I’ll go check to see if your brother’s here yet.”

“Thank you,” she mouthed, and followed them out of the room.

Walking back through the confusing halls, I made it out to the waiting room, and didn’t even have time to look for them before all three said my name. Glancing to my left, I walked toward where they were standing from their chairs, and hugged Mrs. Hudson.

“Is he okay?” Keegan asked.

“He’s doing fine. A little sick, scared, probably in pain. He doesn’t need stitches. They took him back for some X-­rays to make sure he didn’t crack his skull and to see if there’s swelling. Reagan went with him.”

The three let out a collective, relieved breath. “So, he’s awake?” Mr. Hudson asked.

“Yeah, he’d already woken up by the time I got here.”

“Speaking of . . .” Keegan trailed off and raised an eyebrow at me.

I shot him a confused look. “What?”

He cleared his throat and jerked his chin toward the check-­in desk behind me. “When Mom and I got here and asked about Parker, the receptionist didn’t seem thrilled that more of his family was here. Told us to be assured Parker’s parents were with him, and one of them would let us know how Parker was doing. Then she started grumbling about Parker’s dad almost getting himself thrown out of the hospital for the way he acted.”

“She wouldn’t tell me where he—­” I paused, and jerked my head back. “Dad?”

“That’s what we said, she look really nervous. Said you claimed Parker was your son, and then she began describing you at the same time she called security over, probably to have him hunt you down. But when she described you . . . we told her she was correct.”

I stood there, not seeing anything as I thought back to my conversation with the woman behind the window. Looking over my shoulder at her, air wheezed out of my lungs. “And he’s my son . . .” Facing Reagan’s family again, my face fell. “Oh my God,” I muttered, and shakily walked over to one of the chairs.

“Are you okay?” Mrs. Hudson asked as she took the chair next to me.