Noah's Adventure - 30. Hospital Drama

Before I could explain anything, the door swung open and a doctor rushed in, Uncle Matt right behind him.

“Ah, Mr. Jacobs,” the doctor said, already shining a light in my eyes. “How are we feeling?”

“I feel fine,” I muttered, squinting against the brightness.

“You’re very lucky to be alive,” he said, giving me a pointed look. “You hit that wall well above the speed limit.”

“I know,” I mumbled.

“He had a guardian angle with him,” Little B said from across the room.

“I think you mean angel,” the doctor replied with an eye roll.

Little B silently mocked him, but the doctor didn’t notice—too busy poking and prodding me, asking what day it was, who the president was, basic stuff like I’d just landed from another planet.

Voices started rising in the hallway.

Then a man I didn’t recognize appeared in the doorway.

“Mattie,” he said warmly, stepping inside and pulling Uncle Matt into a hug.

“Griffin—it’s so good to see you,” Uncle Matt replied.

“Mrs. Jacobs,” Griffin said, taking Grandma’s hand and kissing it.

“Hello, Griff,” she said with a smile.

Griffin turned toward the doctor. “Doctor Watson, I presume you’ve been taking very good care of Mr. Jacobs.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. The whole Dr. Watson thing felt straight out of Sherlock Holmes.

“I have,” Watson replied stiffly.

“Matt and I went to medical school together,” Griffin said, glancing at me.

“Griff’s the Chief Medical Officer,” Uncle Matt added.

Watson finished his exam and stepped back. “Mr. Jacobs appears stable. Blood alcohol test came back negative. We’re still waiting on the full drug panel.”

“Drug panel?” I repeated, my eyes darting around the room.

“Yes. Standard protocol for single-vehicle accidents,” Watson said flatly.

“It’ll come back negative,” I said.

“That’s what they all say,” he replied before walking out.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens,” Griffin said, looking between Grandma and Uncle Matt. “I’ve also asked Dr. Meadows to come down for an evaluation.”

“An evaluation?” I frowned. “Didn’t he just do one?”

“No,” Griffin said calmly. “A psychological evaluation. Standard procedure—to ensure you didn’t intend to harm yourself.”

“Can’t Uncle Matt do it?” I asked, practically pleading.

Griffin shook his head. “I trust Matt, but he’s family. And he’s not licensed to practice here yet.”

Once Griffin left, the room went quiet.

Uncle Matt and Grandma both looked at me.

I glanced over at Little B, who was sitting in a chair, swinging his legs and playing on his tablet like none of this was happening.

Must be nice.

“Where did Uncle Brody go?” I asked.

Uncle Matt hesitated. “He went home once he knew you were awake. He’s… pretty upset about the car.”

Guilt hit instantly.

“I don’t know why I took that one,” I said, dropping my gaze.

“That setup is rare,” Uncle Matt said gently. “A Hemi like that? Hard to replace. The car’s likely totaled.”

Something about that stuck with me.

Because something hadn’t felt right.

Suddenly—

I wasn’t in the hospital anymore.

I was back in the car.

But I wasn’t me.

I was watching myself.

“Steering feels loose,” I heard myself say.

Except… I didn’t remember saying it.

Then I was back.

Hospital. Bed. Reality.

“I think something was wrong with the car,” I said quickly. “The steering—it felt loose.”

Grandma’s expression shifted instantly.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said, already heading for the door.

Little B hopped off his chair and walked over, handing me his tablet.

“I found cars for daddy,” he said proudly.

“You did?” I asked, taking it.

Uncle Matt leaned in and let out a low whistle. “Those are… not cheap.”

“They’re not,” I admitted. “But I’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t go spending that kind of money,” Uncle Matt said.

I raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you didn’t even like the car.”

“It was a great car,” he said quickly. “Just… dangerous. Way too much power.”

“You sound jealous,” I shot back.

“Dad is sad because he couldn’t do burnouts like Daddy,” Little B added helpfully. “He kept fishtailing.”

Uncle Matt turned bright red.

I lost it laughing.

A knock at the door cut the moment short.

Dr. Meadows stepped in.

Uncle Matt and Little B left so she could do her evaluation.

At first, it felt normal.

Basic questions.

Mood. Memory. Orientation.

Then the questions shifted.

My relationship with Grandma.

My uncles.

Control. Influence. Fear.

Something felt… off.

So I got careful.

Measured.

Every answer filtered.

At the same time, I was practically screaming inside—something’s wrong.

The door burst open.

“That will be enough.”

Grandma.

Her voice had that edge—the one that meant someone was about to regret their life choices.

“I need to complete my assessment,” Dr. Meadows said, subtly pressing a button clipped to her hip.

“This is a fishing expedition,” Grandma said, eyes narrowing. “Not a psychological evaluation.”

Security flooded the room, Griffin right behind them.

“What’s going on?” he asked, scanning the scene.

Dr. Meadows launched into a rant—accusations, claims, things that didn’t even remotely match reality.

Griffin just stood there, listening.

Nodding.

Waiting.

When she finally finished, he turned to Grandma.

She explained everything calmly.

Then he looked at me.

I filled in the gaps—the questions, the tone, what didn’t sit right.

A slow smirk spread across Griffin’s face as he turned back to Dr. Meadows.