“I’ll ride in the car with her,” Connor insisted. That wouldn’t have happened. He was too hurt for that and he knew it, but he wanted me in the ambulance with him and wasn’t going without me.
“Just let her ride with him. He’s fucking dying. Go!” Dusty boomed at the paramedics.
As they slid the gurney inside, the young one looked at me and said, “You keep him calm. He’s in trauma.”
“What happened on the ride to the hospital?” Milton asks, staying focused.
I swallow hard and close my eyes. “Lots,” I respond. “I remember Connor’s bloodied hand in mine, how slick it felt . . .” I have to pause and swallow the lump in my throat. “There was so much blood.” A tear trickles down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away as Milton grabs a box of tissues from the corner of the stand and holds it out for me. I take one and wipe under my eyes before clearing my throat.
“So in the ambulance, you remember feeling scared?” he pushes.
“Objection,” Mrs. Jenson’s attorney calls out. “He’s leading the witness, your honor.”
“Sustained,” the judge mumbles.
“Let me rephrase,” Milton grumbles cutting a look to the defense attorney before meeting my gaze again. “What else do you remember?”
“I remember thinking that this couldn’t be happening, that I was in some kind of nightmare.” Milton presses on, and somehow I warp back to that day; the sound of the instruments banging around in the back of the ambulance, the heart monitor beeping, the way Connor kept his gaze locked with mine. I could barely see him through my tears, but I knew he was watching me, drawing strength from me. There were a million beautiful words shared in that fixed stare; another one of our silent conversations.
I love you, he’d said.
Don’t, I warned.
This may be my last chance to tell you—
It won’t be, I interrupted.
I’m sorry.
For what? My eyes blurred with more tears as I fought back my sobs.
For leaving you this way.
My chest wanted to burst open with the pain. Goodbye wasn’t an option. I leaned over and kissed him as he sucked in a ragged breath.
“Please keep the oxygen mask on,” the paramedic scolded him as he placed it back over Connor’s mouth.
The paramedics were working on him, the tiny moving box riddled with loud sounds as we raced to the hospital, but I only heard Connor and our silent words.
He was saying goodbye to me.
He was dying.
He was leaving me.
Mrs. Jenson got two bullets in him, right in his chest and upper abdomen before Dusty punched her, knocking her unconscious.
Thank you, he whispered squeezing my hand. His arms were strapped down by his sides, and he couldn’t see, but he could feel. My hand kept sliding in his, his blood wet and thick between our palms, but I held on for dear life as if the act would tether him here, as if he couldn’t leave so long as he held my hand.
I didn’t know what he was thanking me for, but I was relentless in pushing him to fight. Thank me by living. Stay with me. Please, Connor.
Kiss me again, he ordered. My face was soaked with tears, my nose running, hair stuck to my face and neck, but I leaned in as I sucked in shaky breaths from crying and slid his mask to the side and pressed my lips to his.
You were like an angel that day, he mumbled against my lips, his eyes hooded as he fought the exhaustion he was feeling.
I kept my face in front of his, so he could see me, even though he seemed to be staring off. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I wanted him to keep talking. If he was talking, he was living. What day? I managed.
The day I got out. It was like walking straight out of hell and finding an angel waiting for me on the other side. He let out a wet cough and winced from the pain. My redemption. I didn’t use to believe in that shit, ya know? He managed after a second.
What shit?
Angels and shit. But I know he sent you for me. I know he thought I deserved something special like you. He was looking out for me.
More tears, they just wouldn’t stop. He was telling me he believed Blake sent me for him. That Blake was looking out for him.