Chapter 30: Chapter 30

By the time they reached the parking lot, Trent’s legs were burning. Not from carrying Bree. She was light as a feather, but he had walked through the fire to get her out of the room, and he was pretty sure he’d sustained some damage because of it. He couldn’t slow down until he was sure she was out and safe, though.

As soon as he saw an ambulance, he rushed over to it. The paramedics immediately moved to help Bree. Trent didn’t know if she was burned, too, but he had a feeling she must be. Everything started happening so quickly. She was laid on a gurney as the EMTs started to check her over, and he was rushed over to the back of an ambulance. An oxygen mask was fixed to his face.

“Where does it hurt?” one of the ambulance workers asked.

“Mostly my legs,” Trent replied, not taking his eyes off of Bree. He could see that she had an oxygen mask on as well, and it looked like they were bandaging her hand. The idea of something happening to her fingers scared the hell out of him. She’d never play the guitar again! “Is she okay?” he asked the paramedic.

“I’m not sure,” the man said. “But right now, I’m worried about you. You have second degree burns on your legs. We need to take you in and treat these.”

“Second degree?” Trent knew his legs were burned and they hurt, but he had no idea it was that serious.

They wheeled Bree over toward the ambulance he was sitting on as more pulled up. There were several others treating patients with smoke inhalation. Zach had some burns, too, from the looks of it, but as far as Trent could tell, it didn’t look like anyone else had been burned.

“We need you to get into the ambulance. Can you do that under your own power?” another EMT asked him.

Since they were loading Bree up already, Trent nodded. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good. We’ll take you to the hospital and have you checked out. Hopefully, both of you only have minimal injuries, and you can be released within a few hours.”

Trent also hoped that was the case. He had so many questions. Why would someone set a fire right outside of their hotel room? Had it been Cat? Surely, she was still in jail for tampering with the electricity at the club. Was it possible she got out, and she had done this?

He couldn’t think about that as he looked over at Bree and saw that she was struggling. The paramedics were working on her, and he heard one of them say, “This should help with the pain,” as she put something into an IV they must’ve hooked up when Bree was still outside of the ambulance.

“Are you okay, Bree?” he asked, wishing he could reach over and touch her.

Her eyes were slitted, her nose wrinkled, and she looked as if she was fighting back tears. When she turned her head to look at him, he winced. She tried to hide it, but her eyes couldn’t lie to him. She was in agony. “I’m okay. Just burned my hand somehow.”

He’d thought her hands had been tight around him, or around the wet washcloth. How had that happened?

“We’re going to go ahead and start an IV before the ambulance starts to move,” one of the paramedics who had been bandaging his legs told him. “It might make you a little tired. Hopefully, you won’t be in pain much longer.

“Okay,” Trent said, but he knew there was nothing they could do about the pain he was feeling, the pain he felt in his heart at seeing Bree in such a state. If someone did this on purpose, that person would have hell to pay.

Someone closed the ambulance doors, and Trent felt the vehicle start to move forward. He closed his eyes, doing his best to listen to the paramedics as they discussed how both of them were doing, but he knew the medicine was taking effect because he was so tired. He never would’ve imagined when he’d gone to bed a few hours ago, Bree in his arms, that he’d be waking up to something like this.

Opening his eyes, he looked over at her one more time. She appeared to be asleep. He prayed she was, that she was resting, and that when she woke up in the hospital, everything would be okay. The idea that she might never play the guitar again hurt him almost as much as the idea that somewhere out there was someone so evil they would purposely endanger the lives of hundreds of people sleeping in a hotel. That kind of evil needed to be locked up and the key tossed away where it could never be found again.

***

Confusion washed over Bree as she opened her eyes and couldn’t remember where she was. She heard a beeping and looked around. The gauze on her hand reminded her of what had happened. She was in the hospital. The hotel had caught on fire, or had been set on fire, and she and the others had had to run for their lives. She prayed no one had been hurt or, God forbid, killed.

A few moments after she awoke, the door opened and a nurse walked in. The middle-aged woman dressed in green scrubs wore a soothing smile that implied she had just the sort of bedside manner one would look for in a nurse. “There she is. I was wondering when you might come around. How you feelin’ Miss Bree?”

The woman’s demeanor made Bree feel better immediately. “Okay,” she said, her throat dry. “Where’s Trent?”

The nurse, whose name tag read Raneisha, helped Bree to get a sip of water from a cup on a table near her bed. “He’s in the process of being discharged, honey. He should be in in a few minutes, once he’s done with all the paperwork. We’ll need to keep you a bit longer, let Dr. Holloway look at your hand again. He may want to send in a specialist.”

“A specialist?” Bree asked. She took another sip of the water through a straw, the cold drink feeling good against her rough throat.

“Yes, honey. You’ve got some pretty bad burns on your fingers, and they think they may need to do a skin graft. I’ll let him explain it to you, though.”

Bree raised both eyebrows. She had no idea it had been that bad. She vaguely remembered sticking her hand out as they went through the doorway, and that it had hurt something awful, but she didn’t realize it was so bad.

“Can I get you anything else? How’s your pain?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Bree said. She felt a little nauseated, but she didn’t know if that was because of the injury or the news she’d just gotten.

“Okay, sugar. I’ll go let the doctor know that you’re awake, and then he’ll come in and check on you. Okay?”

“All right. Thank you,” Bree said. As Raneisha walked out the door, Bree couldn’t focus on anything. She had tears in her eyes as she thought about what it might be like to have to have surgery on her hand. It was her left hand, too, the one she used to finger all of the chords on her guitar. Granted, she hadn’t been playing the guitar much the last few months, but she still couldn’t imagine her life without being able to play.

She was so upset, she didn’t hear the door open until Trent’s voice sounded. “Hi, baby. How are you?”

Looking up, she saw his face, and the tears were unstoppable. “Trent….”

“Oh, baby. It’s okay.” He came over to and wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be all right.”

“Will it, though? What if they can’t fix my hand? What if it’s so badly burned I can never play again?”

“They’ll fix it, Bree. I know they will. And… I know you. You’ll never give up.”

That much was true--if it was possible for her to learn to play again, she definitely would. Bree swiped at her tears. “I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, brushing her hair back. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Still… it could’ve been so much worse. Do you know if anyone was killed?”

“No one died,” he assured her. “No one else was injured, except for some smoke inhalation, and Zach had a few minor burns, but he was treated on the scene and released. The band is all out in the waiting room.”

“That’s nice of them,” she said, finally getting her tears under control.

“They’re all worried about you. So’s the crew. As soon as they let you go, we’ll head home, okay? There wasn’t much left of our stuff from the hotel.”

Bree shook her head. She hadn’t taken anything too important, but she hated to hear that.

The doctor knocked on the door and pushed his way in. “Hi there, Miss Matthews. I’m Dr. Holloway. I’m here to look at your hand.”

“Hi, Dr. Holloway,” Bree said.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” Trent asked the doctor.

“No, it’s fine for you to stay, if it’s all right with Miss Bree.”

“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile at Trent. He still moved aside, and she noticed he had a few bandages on his legs.

Dr. Holloway unwrapped her hand, and studied, turning it over gently. Bree decided to look, even though she was scared to. Three of her fingers were in horrible shape. Most of the skin was burned on all but her thumb and pinky. She had to look away. Whatever medicine they were giving her must be awfully powerful because it didn’t really hurt at the moment.

He shook his head. “I can get a second opinion from one of our specialists, but I think it’s safe to say, you need a skin graft, Miss Matthews. My understanding is that you don't live here, though, is that right?”

“No, I live in Nashville.”

“My suggestion would be that you are transferred there for the procedure. That way, you can recover closer to home.”

“Can’t I just ride back on my bus with my band?”

“You could do that, but you’ll need to go straight to the hospital. I can give you some medicine to keep you out of pain for a few hours, but I can’t guarantee it will last too long. If you go by ambulance, we can treat you the whole way. Do you have insurance?”

Bree nodded, she did. “Yes, but I think I’d rather go with my band.”

“Very well then. I’ll go ahead and discharge you and call my friend Dr. Rook in Nashville. She’s a specialist. If anyone can help you, it’s Dr. Rook.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bree said, and he rewrapped her hand before he made some notes on her chart and then left.

Bree tried not to cry as she looked at Trent. “Sounds pretty serious.”

“It does. But it’ll be all right,” he said, kissing her on the head.

Bree wanted to believe him, but it was hard. With tears in her eyes, she rested her head on Trent’s shoulder, praying she’d play the guitar again.