of the bullet from the spinal cord has been shown to improve neurological recovery, but there are no guarantees. We can’t be certain the surgery will improve his chances of walking. There may be localized nerve damage, but we won’t know until there’s been further testing.”
“What are his chances of walking without the surgery?” Maverick asked.
“Honestly, it doesn’t look good.”
I cleared my throat, drawing both of their attention towards me and said, “I want the surgery.”
“You don’t have to make that decision just yet. You’ve just come out of a pretty extensive surgery, Mr. Walker.” the doctor answered.
“Doesn’t matter. I want the surgery.”
Maverick walked over to me and said, “You sure about this? You can survive if they just leave the bullet where it is.”
“I don’t want to just survive, Maverick,” I snapped. “I’ve got nothing if I can’t walk. You and I both know that.”
Maverick nodded, then turned to the doctor and said, “He’ll have the surgery. Make sure he has the best surgeon available. Don’t care what it takes to get him here. Just make it happen.”
With an apprehensive look on his face, the doctor said, “Well… Dr. Clayborn is the best. I’ll have him schedule the surgery for three o’clock this afternoon. It should take six hours for him to complete. The nurses will be in later to prep you.”
“I’ll be ready,” I told him.
As soon as the doctor walked out of the room, I turned to Maverick and asked, “What about Derek?”
“He’s dead, Cotton. We heard the SUV start up, and Stitch raced outside to see what was going on. He saw them leaving and kept shooting until the truck ended up sideswiping a tree and flipped down a ravine. Before he could make it down the hill, the entire thing blew up in flames.”
“So you’re sure he’s dead.”
“The entire thing was up in flames, Cotton. No way he survived it. With you bleeding out, we didn’t have time to wait for the fire to go out,” he explained.
"Understood. And Delaney?”
“No sign of him. We think he was the one driving,” Maverick answered. “So it looks like we got them both. Sara’s team is looking into it, so we will know for sure soon.”
I didn’t like it, but for now, I had to believe Derek had died in the explosion. It was the only thing I could do, so I said, “Just keep on top of it. Go back and check the vehicle, and let me know if you find anything suspicious.”
“You know I will.”
We talked off and on for hours while we waited for the nurses to come in to prep me for surgery. Even though Maverick tried his best to keep me distracted, it was hard to fight back the dark thoughts raging in the back of my mind. I knew it was bad—very bad—and the uncertainty caused a thousand ‘what if’ questions to bombard my thoughts. What if I couldn’t ever walk again? Ride again? Fuck again? What if I was to be damned to a wheelchair for the rest of my life? What if I lost my presidency? What would that mean for me and the club? I just couldn’t fathom any of it, and if there was any chance they could give me back my life with surgery, I was determined to try it, no matter the risk.
It was getting close to three o’clock when Maverick asked, “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely. No doubt in my mind,” I assured him.
There was a light tap on the door, then Sara stuck her head inside the room and said, “I just wanted to come by and see you before surgery.” She walked over to the bed and asked, “How are you doing?”
I could see she was worried, but I wasn’t in any place to reassure her or anyone else for that matter. I let out a deep breath and said, “I’m fine, Sara.”
She brushed the hair from my eyes and said, “That wasn’t very convincing, Cotton.”
“I said I was fine ,” I snarled. She sighed with defeat as she walked out into the hall with Maverick.
I heard him tell her, “He’ll be alright. He’s just tired.”
“I
“What are his chances of walking without the surgery?” Maverick asked.
“Honestly, it doesn’t look good.”
I cleared my throat, drawing both of their attention towards me and said, “I want the surgery.”
“You don’t have to make that decision just yet. You’ve just come out of a pretty extensive surgery, Mr. Walker.” the doctor answered.
“Doesn’t matter. I want the surgery.”
Maverick walked over to me and said, “You sure about this? You can survive if they just leave the bullet where it is.”
“I don’t want to just survive, Maverick,” I snapped. “I’ve got nothing if I can’t walk. You and I both know that.”
Maverick nodded, then turned to the doctor and said, “He’ll have the surgery. Make sure he has the best surgeon available. Don’t care what it takes to get him here. Just make it happen.”
With an apprehensive look on his face, the doctor said, “Well… Dr. Clayborn is the best. I’ll have him schedule the surgery for three o’clock this afternoon. It should take six hours for him to complete. The nurses will be in later to prep you.”
“I’ll be ready,” I told him.
As soon as the doctor walked out of the room, I turned to Maverick and asked, “What about Derek?”
“He’s dead, Cotton. We heard the SUV start up, and Stitch raced outside to see what was going on. He saw them leaving and kept shooting until the truck ended up sideswiping a tree and flipped down a ravine. Before he could make it down the hill, the entire thing blew up in flames.”
“So you’re sure he’s dead.”
“The entire thing was up in flames, Cotton. No way he survived it. With you bleeding out, we didn’t have time to wait for the fire to go out,” he explained.
"Understood. And Delaney?”
“No sign of him. We think he was the one driving,” Maverick answered. “So it looks like we got them both. Sara’s team is looking into it, so we will know for sure soon.”
I didn’t like it, but for now, I had to believe Derek had died in the explosion. It was the only thing I could do, so I said, “Just keep on top of it. Go back and check the vehicle, and let me know if you find anything suspicious.”
“You know I will.”
We talked off and on for hours while we waited for the nurses to come in to prep me for surgery. Even though Maverick tried his best to keep me distracted, it was hard to fight back the dark thoughts raging in the back of my mind. I knew it was bad—very bad—and the uncertainty caused a thousand ‘what if’ questions to bombard my thoughts. What if I couldn’t ever walk again? Ride again? Fuck again? What if I was to be damned to a wheelchair for the rest of my life? What if I lost my presidency? What would that mean for me and the club? I just couldn’t fathom any of it, and if there was any chance they could give me back my life with surgery, I was determined to try it, no matter the risk.
It was getting close to three o’clock when Maverick asked, “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely. No doubt in my mind,” I assured him.
There was a light tap on the door, then Sara stuck her head inside the room and said, “I just wanted to come by and see you before surgery.” She walked over to the bed and asked, “How are you doing?”
I could see she was worried, but I wasn’t in any place to reassure her or anyone else for that matter. I let out a deep breath and said, “I’m fine, Sara.”
She brushed the hair from my eyes and said, “That wasn’t very convincing, Cotton.”
“I said I was fine ,” I snarled. She sighed with defeat as she walked out into the hall with Maverick.
I heard him tell her, “He’ll be alright. He’s just tired.”
“I
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