“It’s going to be all right,” he promises again, instead of asking more questions that Alex probably isn’t coherent enough to answer. “It’s going to be just fine. You hear me? It’ll be fine, I promise.”
Alex takes a deep, deep breath, and then suddenly he’s crying—crying, of all things! He’s never cried, to Ryan’s knowledge, and the sudden outburst of tears is more frightening than the blood all over the both of them, more frightening than the blown pupil or the slurring voice, or the shaking in his hands, or how suddenly small and fragile he feels under Ryan’s arm.
“Oh, don’t. Please don’t, Alex. Don’t,” Ryan says uselessly, and if it were possible to pull him any closer, then he would.
Then Nan is hitting the brakes, and the bright lights of a hospital are filling up the car, and Ryan doesn’t have the chance to say anything else for a while.
* * * *
They have to wait.