The first thing I saw when I exited the elevator at the hospital was my dad pacing. His eyes were totally unfocused, and he was wringing his hands. It looked like he had jumped out of bed with his rumpled pajamas. 

"Dad!"

He jerked toward me, his eyes downcast. He stumbled toward me, but I was faster. I ran to him and said, "What's wrong? Why are we here?"

"It's your brother," he mumbled. "He . . ." Dad's face looked pinched. "He got hit by a car."

"He what?"

My heart dropped through my body and down the elevator I came through. The foundation beneath my feet shook under me, and Dad had to grab my arm to keep me from falling. "How did this happen?" I asked, my throat burning.

"He fell off his bike. He was about to get back on when someone ran the stop sign and plowed into him."

I couldn't breathe. My lungs weren't working. My knees suddenly turned to jelly, and I nearly fell down again. "Where is he?" I asked as Dad helped me sit down on the floor.

"In surgery."

I gasped for air. Nothing about this was right. He couldn't have been hurt. He was the sweetest boy in the world. He should've been okay and not in surgery because of some reckless driver. "Do you know the surgeon?" I asked.

He nodded. "You do, too."

I waited for my slow brain to process what he said. All the things that had happened earlier had evaporated from my mind. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. "Is it Mom?"

"Bingo."

I sat there numbly. This pain was awful, but I couldn't imagine what Mom and Dad felt. Especially Mom who was currently performing surgery on him. I sent a quick prayer, asking that Mom would have steady hands to take care of him.

"How long has he been in surgery?" I asked.

"Almost an hour."

"And no one contacted me?"

"I tried to call you, but it went directly to voicemail."

"How? I texted that I was going to Harvey's house to watch a movie after the dance."

"No idea."

I took my phone out of the pocket in Harvey's shorts and frowned when it wouldn't turn on. Maybe Harvey turned it off when he took it out of my purse. But why?

I was about to send a text to Harvey when Dad yelped in surprise. I glanced up to see Mom walking toward us. I took off running to her and threw my arms around her shoulders. She stumbled under me and let out a sob. Her body shook in my arms.

"I'm here, Mom," I whispered.

She buried her head into my shoulder, and I ran my hand through her hair. "He made it through the surgery," she whispered.

I smiled through the tears. "He's a fighter, Mom. There's no way he wouldn't fight to live."

I glanced over her shoulder to see Dad hovering near us. He looked scared to join our hug, but I opened my arm. He stepped into it and said, "How is he?"

"He's alive," Mom said, looking at him. "He had major internal bleeding, but we got it stopped."

Dad dropped his head against Mom's shoulder, his own shoulders shaking. I wiped my tears away from my cheeks. Dad clung to Mom like his life depended on it. And maybe it did.

"Can we see him?" I asked, holding tight to Mom's hand.

"Yes." Mom nodded. "But he's asleep."

She took us to where he was located at, and we all walked in together. I gripped Mom's hand when I saw him. He looked so peaceful. It hit me how close we were to losing him, and a new wave of tears flowed out of me. Mom wrapped me in a hug, sniffling as well.

"He'll be alright," she whispered. "God is taking care of him."

I let out a ragged breath. She glanced at my outfit and frowned. She immediately turned back into my overprotective mother instead of the one worrying about her son. "What are you wearing?"

I sighed. "Harvey and I went to his house to watch a movie, and I changed into some of his clothes."

"You didn't get to watch the movie, did you?"

My face grew warm. "Not really."

She noticed my face and whispered, "What happened?"

"I don't really want to say right now," I said, my eyes reverting back to Beckett. "Can it wait?"

"Yes."

I sunk into the chair next to his bed as Mom and Dad stepped out of the room. My hand wrapped around Beckett's limp one, and I gave it a squeeze. He didn't snap at me for holding his hand. He didn't roll his eyes at the tears flowing from mine. I knew he would've hated seeing me like this, but I couldn't help it. He was my little brother.

"Beckett, buddy, you got to wake up for us," I said softly to him. "Please. We need you so much." I stared at his chest as it rose and fell. I didn't want to look at his face, to not see his eyes staring back at me. "I know we haven't been as close as we used to be, but I need you. So, please wake up. For me. For Mom and Dad. Please."

My throat wouldn't let me speak any longer. I buried my knuckles into my eyes. I wished this didn't happen. He didn't deserve any of this. I just hoped it would get better.