Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades 3) - Chapter 108

“You could have been hurt, too. And Mr. Rodriguez . . . worse.” I gulp at the thought. My body temperature drops further, and I shiver once more. Jose takes my hand.

“Hell, Ana, you’re freezing.”

Mr. Rodriguez inches forward and takes my other hand in his one good hand.

“Ana, I am so sorry.”

“Mr. Rodriguez, please. It was an accident . . .” My voice fades to a whisper.

“Call me Jose,” he corrects me. I give him a weak smile, because that’s all I can manage. I shiver once more.

“The police took the ass**le into custody. Seven in the morning and the guy was out of his skull,” Jose hisses in disgust.

Sawyer reenters, bearing a paper cup of hot water and a separate teabag. He knows how I take my tea! I’m surprised, and glad for the distraction. Mr. Rodriguez and Jose release my hands as I take the cup gratefully from Sawyer.

“Do you . . . ?” Sawyer asks Mr. Rodriguez and Jose. They both shake their heads, and Sawyer resumes his seat in the corner. I dunk my teabag in the water and, rising shakily, dispose of the used bag in a small trashcan.

“What’s taking them so long?” I mutter to no one in particular as I take a sip.

Daddy . . . Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay.

“We’ll know soon enough, Ana,” Jose says gently. I nod and take another sip. I take my seat again beside him. We wait . . . and wait. Mr. Rodriguez with his eyes closed, praying I think, and Jose holding my hand and squeezing it every now and then. I slowly sip my tea. It’s not Twinings, but some cheap and nasty brand, and it tastes disgusting. I remember the last time I waited for news. The last time I thought all was lost when Charlie Tango went missing. Closing my eyes, I offer up a silent prayer for the safe passage of my husband. I glance at my watch: 2:15 p.m. He should be here soon. My tea is cold . . . Ugh!

I stand up and pace then sit down again. Why haven’t the doctors been to see me? I take Jose’s hand, and he gives mine another reassuring squeeze. Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. Time crawls so slowly.

Suddenly the door opens, and we all glance up expectantly, my stomach knotting. Is this it?

Christian strides in. His face darkens momentarily when he notices my hand in Jose’s.

“Christian!” I gasp and leap up, thanking God he’s arrived safely. Then I’m wrapped in his arms, his nose in my hair, and I’m inhaling his scent, his warmth, his love. A small part of me feels calmer, stronger, and more resilient because he’s here. Oh, the difference his presence makes to my peace of mind.

“Any news?”

I shake my head, unable to speak.

“Jose.” He nods a greeting.

“Christian, this is my father, Jose Senior.”

“Mr. Rodriguez – we met at the wedding. I take it you were in the accident, too?”

Jose briefly retells the story.

“Are you both well enough to be here?” Christian asks.

“We don’t want to be anywhere else,” Mr. Rodriguez says, his voice quiet and laced with pain. Christian nods. Taking my hand, he sits me down then takes a seat beside me.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head.

“But you’re cold?” he asks, eyeing Jose’s jacket.

I nod. He shifts in his chair, but wisely says nothing. The door opens again, and a young doctor in bright blue scrubs enters. He looks exhausted and harrowed.

Oh no . . . All the blood seems to disappear from my head as I stumble to my feet.

“Ray Steele,” I whisper as Christian stands beside me, putting his arm around my waist.

“You’re his next of kin?” the doctor asks. His bright blue eyes almost match his scrubs, and under any other circumstances I would have found him attractive.

“I’m his daughter, Ana.”

“Miss Steele – ”

“Mrs. Grey,” Christian interrupts him.

“My apologies,” the doctor stammers, and for a moment I want to kick Christian. “I’m Doctor Crowe. Your father is stable, but in a critical condition.”

Fuck. What does that mean? My knees buckle beneath me, and only Christian’s supporting arm prevents me from falling to the floor.

“He suffered severe internal injuries,” Dr. Crowe says, “principally to his diaphragm, but we’ve managed to repair them, and we were able to save his spleen. Unfortunately, he suffered a cardiac arrest during the operation because of blood loss. We managed to get his heart going again, but this remains a concern. However, our gravest concern is that he suffered severe contusions to the head, and the MRI shows that he has swelling in his brain. We’ve induced a coma to keep him quiet and still while we monitor the brain swelling.”

Brain damage? No.

“It’s standard procedure in these cases. For now, we just have to wait and see.”

“And what’s the prognosis?” Christian asks coolly.

“Mr. Grey, it’s difficult to say at the moment. It’s possible he could make a complete recovery, but that’s in God’s hands now.”

“How long will you keep him in a coma?”

“That depends on how his brain responds. Usually seventy-two to ninety-six hours.”

Oh no . . . so long!

“Can I see him?” I whisper.

“Yes, you should be able to see him in about half an hour. He’s been taken to the ICU on the sixth floor.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Crowe nods, turns and leaves us.

“Well, he’s alive,” I whisper to Christian. And the tears start to roll down my face once more.

“Sit down,” Christian orders gently.

“Papa, I think we should go. You need to rest. We won’t know anything for a while.” Jose murmurs to Mr. Rodriguez who gazes blankly at his son. “We can come back this evening, after you’ve rested. That’s okay, isn’t it, Ana?” Jose turns, imploring me.