“MY PARENTS CAME by ambulance.”

The receptionist’s eyes flick up, fingers hovering over her keyboard. “And the name of the patient?”

I glance at my best friend, Ryan, who stands nearby, and grip the counter. “Mitch and Sharon Hunter.”

“Your name, please?”

“Jake Hunter. I’m their son.”

She nods, phone to ear. “Visitor for Sharon Hunter at the desk.” She pauses. “Thank you.” The automatic double doors swing open. “Room twelve.”

Ryan puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll wait here for you.”

I close my eyes, the accident call replaying like a bad dream. “I’ll update you,” I manage, stepping toward the doors. The overhead fluorescents glare off the white tile floor as I jog down the vast hall and turn the corner. Two nurses push a gurney through swinging doors. Room numbers blur.

Room 12 is across the way.

The sight of Mom tethered to machines by tubes, cuffs, and bags strikes me as I stumble in the doorway. A caterpillar row of stitches sweeps her upper brow over a swollen black eye. An ice pack covers her right ankle.

I pull a chair close and take her hand. “Mom.”

A faint squeeze of fingers is her only response.

The call I’d received runs through my mind on a loop.

“Hello?”

“Are you Jake?” A stranger’s voice.

“Who is this?” Her soft Spanish accent was the opposite of my harsh question.

“My name is Maria. Are you Jake?”

“Yes.”

“We are on the highway, near Red Rocks. Your momma was in an accident. The paramedics are working on her now.”

“What? What about my dad?”

I slammed my apartment door and flown down the stairs to my truck, phone still at my ear. “Can you put him on the phone?”

“Your papa?” She called out to someone. “Was he the driver?”

I forced myself to slow down. Breathe. “Most likely, yes.”

The woman hesitated. “He’s not well. The ambulance has already taken him. Go to Maple Valley Hospital. He—”

I jolt to my feet when a nurse enters the room and logs onto the computer.

“I’m Anna, Sharon’s nurse. You must be Jake.”

“Her son, yes.” I lower my voice. “What happened?”

“Your mom was in a car accident.” Anna’s expression seems compassionate. “She has injuries. Lots of bruises, gashes from flying glass, a fractured ankle, but all are superficial. She will heal up. The sedation will make her comfortable and allow her body to rest. You’ll be able to speak to her in a few hours.”

“I assume they brought my dad here, too. Do you know where he is?”

Anna turns from the keyboard and gestures to the glass door. We step into the hallway. “I’m not your dad’s nurse tonight, but let’s ask at the nurse’s station.”

A few minutes pass before a nurse introduces herself and walks me to Room 21. It’s empty.

“Jake, your parents were in an accident tonight.”

This nurse—what’s her name?—is not as kind as Anna. Or maybe it’s the words she’s stringing together that make her mean.

“Your dad was unresponsive at the scene. The EMTs administered CPR for forty minutes and managed a faint pulse. He had extensive internal bleeding.”

Stunned, I step back, glance at the empty bed. “He didn’t make it?”

Her name tag, which read Theresa, bobbed as she patted my arm. “Your dad is in surgery now. Then he will transfer to Intensive Care.”

“So, it’s fixable, then?”

“The doctor will update you on his progress. For now, your mom needs you.”

I find Anna checking machines and vitals when I return. Another nurse brings in an extra pillow and a fresh ice pack for Mom’s ankle. I stay out of Anna’s way but remain close enough to touch Mom’s knee, shoulder—anything to keep contact.

It’s unbearable to reconcile this broken woman with my mother. She’s been an anchor, a steady comfort, a perfect counterpart to Dad’s leadership. And Dad—God, my parents have always been present, accessible, undivided. Together.

They’ve always been together.