“Yeah,” Kade hollers from the front. “Where am I going?”
I close my eyes, scrambling for ideas when the perfect one hits me. My eyes snap open and I yell into the front. “You remember that time we broke into a liquor store and you smashed through that window? You wouldn’t let us take you to the hospital because you didn’t want to get busted, so we took you to that family friend. What was his name?”
Riley groans and slumps down beside Chris. “The drug-dealing doctor?”
“That was never officially proven!”
“He lost his practicing license!”
I shrug. “Yeah, but he’s still around, right?”
“He can help us,” Kade hollers from the front.
The wind whips my hair as he pushes the truck to its limit, speeding through the darkened roads with one headlight.
Guilt thrashes me, asking me why I didn’t jump faster, turn quicker, make sure my body was in front of the bullet instead of hers.
But she turned to save me. God, I love her.
And I’m going to save her. She’s not dying in the back of this old pickup truck.
I crouch down and rub my thumb across her cheek, bending low to whisper into her ear. “Stay with me, baby. I’m gonna get you out of this, and then I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again. I promise.”
#39:
Keep Breathing
Christiana
I’m dying.
As my body is jostled in the back of the old pickup, I can feel the life draining out of me.
“Stay with me, baby. Please.” Trey’s voice is shaking, desperate.
He’s kneeling over me, his wet cheek pressed to mine.
Is he crying?
The truck swerves left and I open my eyes. The night is clear and cold. Trey is cradling my head while Riley pushes his sweater into my belly.
“Keep breathing, baby. Don’t give up, okay?” Trey leans back to look at my face.
Our eyes connect just like they did the first time we saw each other.
“Promise me,” he whispers. “Don’t stop fighting.”
I give him a weak smile. It’s all I can manage.
Running his fingers down my cheek, he brushes his thumb over my lips and then kisses me, a soft breath of life that urges me to stick around.
He wants me to keep breathing. He wants me to stay with him.
Closing my eyes again, I hold onto his request. It warms me, centers me…gives me something to focus on.
The truck slows to a low rumble and we ease around the back of a quiet apartment block. Trey’s sitting straight now and I can see the sky. The glow of the stars is being dampened by streetlights. The constellations grow brighter as we park in the darkest corner of the lot.
As soon as we jerk to a stop, Kade jumps out. His door slams shut and then he’s gripping the side of the pickup bed, looking down at me.
“How’s she doing?”
“Still breathing.” Riley scrambles out and disappears.
Pounding feet.
A cheap-sounding buzzer.
Agitated tapping.
A cheap-sounding buzzer again. Long and hard this time.
Muffled voices. I can’t make out the words but I can hear frustration, urgency, arguing.
Trey brushes his fingers over my forehead. If my hair were long, he’d tuck it behind my ear.
Robbie did that on our date night. The gesture was so sweet, so pure.
If Trey did it, my heart would melt.
He’d own me for life.
I think he already does.
That’s why I jumped in front of him. I didn’t even think about it. I was turning to block that bullet before it even left the gun.
I stare at his beautiful face—so strong and stoic.
I’d do it again if I had to.
“It’s gonna be okay.” He sniffs.
He’s reassuring himself more than me.
I open my mouth and feebly whisper, “I promise.”
His smile is grateful, his soft snicker watery.
Feet run back to the truck and it moves as a middle-aged man with wild hair and sleep in his eyes stares down at me.
He shines a light in my eyes, then starts asking me questions—pain level, blood type, allergies…and plenty more.
They’re too fast. I can’t answer them all.
He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s assessing my wound.
“I think the bullet’s still in there,” he mutters. “I can’t knock her out but I can make her sleepy, numb the whole area, remove the bullet, clean it and stop the bleeding.”
“Do it.” Trey nods.
“It’ll cost you three grand.”
Trey grits his teeth. “Do it.”
“Okay, let’s get her inside.” Wild Man disappears from sight.
Trey cradles me against him, easing me out of the truck while I cling to his shirt. My grip is weak and pathetic.
Wild Man snaps orders, telling Trey how to hold me, rushing beside him and staring at me as we go.
He’s not asking how I got shot. I’m guessing he’s not that kind of doctor.
I don’t know how Trey is going to pay for this. I don’t have the energy to ask.
The door swings open and I’m carried up dimly lit stairs. It hurts. It didn’t hurt before, but now pain is spreading through my body like a virus.
I grit my teeth against it. I promised Trey I’d survive.