I glanced up at him when he spoke. “Pop what in?” I questioned, confused. Carson scrunched his nose as another paramedic helped the first wheel the gurney toward the open doors of the ambulance.

“His shoulder. It’s dislocated,” the first paramedic answered.

A shudder washed over me, but I tried my best not to show any reaction. Carson saw it, though, and he chuckled quietly. “You can wait outside when they do it,” he offered.

Bile rose in my throat. Too bloody right I’m waiting outside. I cannot see that! Ignoring his smug face, I looked at the paramedic. “I can get in the ambulance, too, right? I’m his fiancée.” I sniffed, wiping my nose on the back of my hand discreetly, silently wishing I had a tissue because I was sure to look an absolute mess.

“Of course,” the paramedic answered. As soon as they’d settled Carson’s bed over on the right hand side, I climbed in. I sat opposite him and looked at him worriedly, wondering what I could do to help him. It was clear just by the stiff way he was lying and the paleness to his face that he was in a lot of pain.

Just before the doors closed, one of Carson’s team stepped forward and placed Carson’s helmet on his stomach. “Don’t forget that, mate. Lucky helmet that,” the guy grinned.

My eyes settled on the helmet and my stomach clenched, seeing just how much of a close call it really was. Carson’s helmet was cracked all around one side, scratches covering almost every inch of it. The visor was gone, ripped off no doubt because the clip on the side was shattered. As I looked at the thing that had saved Carson’s life, I burst into tears all over again.

T DIDN’T TAKE LONG to get to the hospital. I didn’t get much chance to talk to Carson on the journey there because the paramedic was fussing over him the entire time. I did get to hold his hand, though. By the time we arrived, I was even more of a hysterical mess than I was minutes before. I had a feeling they were mostly tears of relief and ‘what could have been’ thoughts.

When the ambulance pulled up outside the hospital, I tried my best to stay out of the way as they wheeled him inside. Doctors fussed over him, checking his eyes and head thoroughly, whilst asking him simple questions like his name and what day of the week it was.

I pressed my back against the wall, watching it all with wide eyes, not knowing how I could help or what I should say. The guilt inside me was making me feel nauseous because this was entirely my fault.

After finally concluding he had no head trauma, they removed the neck brace. When a nurse wheeled in an ultrasound machine, the doctor checked over Carson’s shoulder. “This is definitely dislocated. Your records show you’ve done it before,” the doctor stated, eyeing the screen carefully as he moved the little plastic thing around Carson’s shoulder.

“Yeah, a few years ago,” Carson confirmed. He turned his head, looking over at me and a weak smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Em, you can wait outside. You don’t have to be in here for this.”

I gulped, wondering if my voice would work if I tried to speak. “I don’t want to leave you,” I admitted, even though in that second, I would rather be anywhere but there. I hated hospitals at the best of times, but knowing they were going to pop Carson’s shoulder back in was making my knees weak.

His smile grew, and his eyes showed his appreciation before he turned back to the doctor. “Is there muscle damage? I won’t need surgery, will I?”

Surgery? My breath caught in my throat.

The doctor pursed his lips. “I’ve checked thoroughly for nerve damage and muscle tears, but it actually looks good. I can’t see anything which would require surgery.” He pulled the plastic wand-type thing away from Carson’s shoulder and smiled. “I think we can get this back in using reduction.”

Carson winced but nodded.

“What’s reduction?” I asked, finally pushing myself away from the wall.

The doctor turned to me and smiled. “It’s the term we use. I’ll basically just manipulate the shoulder back into its socket manually, using massage and arm movements,” he explained. A lump formed in my throat, and I silently wished I hadn’t asked. He turned back to Carson. “Of course, we’ll have to get some pain medication and a mild sedative inside you first,” he added. “Let’s send you for x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken, and then we’ll get to it.”

Carson nodded, wincing as they eased his arm back into the sling. “Can I request a full-blown sedative rather than a mild one? I’m a bit of a pussy, and I scream like a girl,” he joked.

The doctor chuckled and pulled off his gloves, tossing them into the bin. “I’ll see what I can do.” He nodded to the nurse. “Rush him through x-ray and call me when he’s back.”

“Emma, come here, will ya?” Carson asked, holding out his good hand to me.

I nodded and obediently trotted to his side, taking his hand and gripping it tightly. Worry was eating me up inside. I felt useless just standing around and waiting. “You okay?” I whispered, squeezing his fingers gently.

He nodded. “I’m all right. Listen, while I’m up in x-ray, can you call my mum and just tell her what’s happening? She’ll be going crazy, and the hospital probably won’t tell her anything because I changed my next of kin to you.”

I frowned. “You did? Why did you do that? When?”

He smiled, pulling my hand up and kissing the back of my knuckles softly. “I have to check over my medical forms and details before each race. I changed my next of kin to you a couple of weeks ago when you moved in with me.”