When the elevator doors opened my heart nearly stopped for a second time. Lined down the hallway were firefighters on either side. Some were dressed in their fire-resistant gear. Some wore their regular uniform, the same uniform black trousers and navy blue T-shirt with black boots that Eric rushed out of the house wearing just that morning. At least I thought it was that morning. How could it have only been that morning and yet felt so long ago?
They all turned in my direction. Some wore looks of pity, some outright sorrow, and tears, while others barely held eye contact with me. I was most jarred by the red-rimmed eyes of Don’s. He was usually the first person to speak, make a joke or try to lighten the mood. He turned his head to the linoleum floor and didn’t look back up as we passed.
“Angela.” Captain Waverly came up to me.
“H-how is he?” I asked, my voice cracking. I honestly didn’t know if I even wanted the answer to that question. The expressions on the men's faces I just saw told me it wasn’t good.
“The doctor is saying it’s touch and go but won’t give us any more details than that. They were waiting for…”
“Next of kin,” I finished for him.
Just then the doctor came out of the room.
“Doctor, Eric’s next of kin is here,” Captain Waverly spoke up, pointing at me.
“You are?” the older man asked.
“Angela Moore, his fiancée.”
The doctor tilted his head almost in familiarity. “He’s been asking for you.”
“He’s awake?” There was hope in my voice.
“Yes, but I must warn you his situation is grave. He has three fractured ribs, one of which punctured his lung. We believe he has some internal bleeding, but we’re not sure where it’s coming from. His vitals weren’t stable enough when he first came in to perform surgery. We’re trying to wait for his vitals to raise to perform surgery. For right now, it’s a waiting game.”
“Oh God!” I covered my mouth with my hand. My stomach lurched, and I felt like the room was spinning.
“Angela,” Sean called, turning me to him, “you need to be strong for Eric right now. Okay? He wants to see you.”
I nodded vigorously, dabbing at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “O-okay. Um, his parents. Someone needs to tell t?”
“They’re being brought to the hospital as we speak,” Sean confirmed.
I nodded and blew out a shaky breath. I could do this. I could be strong for the man who was always so strong for me. I inhaled and stepped toward the door. Blowing the air from my lungs, I moved to push the door open. The room was eerily quiet save for the beeps of the monitors. I pushed past the curtain and had to cover my mouth to prevent the gasp that wanted to escape.
Eric was laying in the bed, the white sheet only covering up to his waist. He was shirtless, although wide bandages were wrapped around his chest and upper stomach areas. The skin that was showing above the bandages was bruised. His face. His beautiful face was swollen on one side, marred by black and purple bruises. His breathing was so labored. I stopped, being as quiet as a mouse as I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. With each inhale his face—the half that wasn’t bruised—contorted a little, as if it pained him just to breathe.
I crept around to the side of his bed, still not making a sound. His eyes were closed, and I assumed he fell back asleep. As frightened as I was, I needed to touch him. I needed to feel him to know that he was still here. Fighting for his life. I leaned a little on his pillow and began lightly stroking his silky hair. I figured that would be the least painful place I could touch him. Just that morning I ran my fingers through those same strands for entirely different reasons.
“A-Angel,” his voice was between a croak and a whisper, causing me to jump.
“Hi, baby.”
“I’m sorry, Angel,” he said, then paused, face contorting.
“Sorry for what?”
“Scaring you like this.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“No, I mean it, Angel. I got sloppy at the warehouse. Should’ve checked the roof as I was inspecting the hallway for people.” He paused, coughing and then grimacing.
“Shshshsh. Don’t do that. You were doing your job, baby.” I tried to shush him as every word seemed as if it pained him, but he kept talking.
“Remember that night I took you to that overlook? Where we spent the whole night listening to calls over the radio, and you asked me to describe what each of the codes meant? The night you dry humped me in my backseat?”
In spite of myself, I let out a giggle.
