Page 65 of Branson's Promise
A police officer pulled up alongside us, climbed out of his car and started ushering people away, asking them to give the paramedics space. I was frozen in fear, in guilt, in heartbreak. “Noel?” Milo’s voice was quiet, drawing me away from the stretcher, which had now been loaded into the ambulance. I turned, meeting the tear streaked face of the other man that I loved. “He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be.” Milo was shaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to comfort him because this was as much his fault as it was mine. We did this to Branson. We may not have been driving that car, but we ran him out here.
“I don’t know,” was all I managed to force out before I was moving towards the ambulance. A police officer standing nearby put out an arm to stop me.
“Sir, please take a step back.” The officer wore a stern expression as he spoke to me while keeping an eye on the growing crowd.
“He’s my boyfriend. I need to go with him.” The police officer looked from the paramedics, who were securing Branson on the stretcher, then back to me. His eyes were sympathetic and kind as he nodded, allowing me to pass, but his voice stopped me again before I could reach the vehicle.
“Sorry, you cannot go with them.” Milo. He wanted to be there too. He loved Branson just as much as I did.
“Officer, please let him through, he’s with us,” I asked, tapping my foot and looking back at the ambulance before turning back to Milo.
“Only one of you can ride with him, my suggestion is that the boyfriend goes.”
“We’re both his boyfriend,” I replied and was met by a questioning lift of the officer's brow.
“Sure,” he replied, his tone tinged with disbelief, like I was lying just to get him to let Milo through. I wanted to argue with him and tell him it was true, that we both loved that man so damn much but the paramedics loaded Branson into the ambulance then signalled that they were ready to leave and I had to make the choice to stay or go. And wasn’t that the fucking thing that had gotten us into this situation in the first place?
Milo bent down on his haunches, his head buried in his hands. “Milo?” He looked up at me with wet eyes.
“It’s okay, Noel. I’m okay. You go, I’ll meet you at the hospital.” I hesitated but in the end had to make a choice, so I left Milo there getting the hospital details from the police officer and rushed over in time to climb inside the ambulance with Branson.
Choking back a sob, I rested a hand on his leg while the paramedics tended to him. His blonde hair was a mess, wet and streaked with blood and he had a graze on one side of his face, but apart from that, he looked unharmed and I only hoped that was really the case.
The hospital was quiet, which for a Friday night surprised me. I was asked to stay in a waiting area while Branson was rushed into the emergency room. The room was cold and sterile, with a vending machine and water cooler to one side. A television sat high on one wall, a football game playing silently on the screen.Only a handful of people were in the room, sitting on the grey chairs, various emotions lining their faces as they waited for news of their loved ones. A small boy sat clutching a blue bear in one hand and an older lady's hand in the other. She wore a floral dress which reminded me of one my mother would wear. The child caught my eye and I offered him a weak smile but he buried his face against the lady’s arm and I turned my gaze to a flickering light in the tiled ceiling.
Branson had been unconscious most of the way, waking up dazed and confused moments before we pulled in. Not enough time for me to speak to him, or to make sure for myself that he was going to be alright.
He had to be alright. He was one half of my entire world and I couldn't be without him.
Branson was a bright star, a man with a heart of gold who smiled and laughed freely and who embodied kindness and compassion. Being loved by him was like being wrapped tightly and safely in one of those warm blankets he loved so much.
He had to be okay.
Pacing the room, traversing it from corner to corner, I pulled out my phone and called my personal assistant. I needed to gain back some semblance of control before I lost it and crumpled into a heap on the hospital floor.
“Madeline, I’m sorry to call you so late. I need help.” I filled her in on what had happened and could hear the concern in her voice. “I need you to organise a private room at the hospital and once I know more, I’ll need the names and numbers of the best doctors in the country. Fuck that, in the world. Whatever the cost.” Branson would get all the care he needed.
Milo ran in not long after, he was sweating, and his eyes were bloodshot. “I had to run back to the hotel because I had no way to pay for a cab. I’m sorry it took me so long. How is he?”
“The doctor hasn’t been out again and no one has told me anything.” I pointed towards the ER doors just as a doctor in a white overcoat and teal scrubs stepped out, the doors swinging shut behind him. His eyes scanned the waiting area before he asked, “Who is here for Branson Taylor?” We stepped forward simultaneously and he motioned us towards a corner of the room.
“Is he okay? What can you tell us?” I asked. The doctor scrutinised the two of us, his lips set in a firm line before he spoke again.
“Are you family? His records from a previous visit list August West as his next of kin.” Of course they did, had any of us planned for anything like this? I know I hadn't.
Milo shook his head, his mouth parting when I blurted out, “I’m his fiancé, Noel Bennett. August West - now Winters - is his friend.” Countless TV shows had put this idea in my head that being his fiancé or husband would make the doctor more likely to share his progress with me.
The doctor studied me for a moment but then nodded his understanding. “Well Mr Bennett, I cannot give you the full details without speaking to his next of kin first but what I can tell you is that he is in a stable condition.”
“Stable? What does that mean? Is he awake, can we see him?” The doctors shaking head was like a dagger to the heart. I needed to see him, needed to see with my own eyes that he was okay.
“Mr Taylor was hit side-on by a car. The impact caused him to hit his head on the pavement and while we’ve ruled out a brain injury, the car did hit him at an angle that caused an injury to his spleen. There is some internal bleeding so we are taking him in for surgery now. Once he is awake and conscious, he will be moved to a recovery room and then onto a general ward.”
“Surgery! You just assured us he was stable!” I took a deep breath, steadying my racing pulse, everything was spiralling but I could take control, do what I did best and manage the situation. “Okay,” I let out a breath and shook out my hands which I’d been holding in tight fists. “Who is operating? I need names. And who is the best in this field, get them here now, it doesn’t matter what the cost. He gets the best care there is, understand? And don’t put him in a general ward, he needs a private room.”
The doctor met my eyes with a sympathetic smile. “I understand this is distressing but please trust us to take care of him. I cannot give you any more information or make alternative arrangements without consent from his next of kin. We will try and get hold of Mr Winters as soon as possible. Do you know if he lives in the city?”
Rubbing at the pounding in my chest, I answered the doctor. “No, he’s in Boston at the moment but I’ll get him here as soon as possible.”