Never been more grateful to at least find a taste of this. Him.
Even if it’s torn away from me too soon.
A scream in the distance is the first thing I register, and it slams me back to reality, stealing away that cloud nine I almost had my fingers wrapped up in.
The second is a pop that has me dropping back from Em and running out into the street with a deepstay therethrown over my shoulder to him.
I don’t get far when I hear the third, a pounding that ricochets off the brick around us and sounds too close to ignore.
On instinct, I duck, though I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Pain blooms, sudden and piercing enough that I crumble to my knees.
Fuck … no. Nonono.
The screams surround my head like a vice, reverberating inside my skull, my gut, and I grab at my abdomen.
It feels wet, and when I look at it, it’s red.
Realization kicks in, slamming me into a new reality I never wanted to be part of, and I gasp.
But then Emmett is there, on his knees and hovering over me.
When did I lay down?
I blink hard and focus on the way he screams my name.
I’ve never heard him so loud before.
“Em-m-m,” I chatter out to the shining fear in his eyes as I press harder to the stabbing ache in my gut. “Call 9-1-1.”
He cries harder.
“I don’t know what to do!”
“C-call them.” I reach for him with what I think is a dry hand and hold on. “Tell them—listen to me, baby—t-tell them wherewe are. G-GSW.” My lips tremble, a shiver taking over that never ends. “To the abdomen. Critical.” My teeth chatter and I release him to press into the wound with both hands, but my strength is fading. I can feel it.
The edges of my vision are darkening.
Center of my chest is aching.
Warmth floods at the corners of my eyes and I choke back a sob.
I hear the faint voice of dispatch next to my head, Emmett’s panicked voice breaking my heart wide open as he speaks to them.
“I’m sorry,” I rush out and grab his hand again, “I’m so s-s-sorry, baby, but I need help.”
“Tristen,” he cries as I flatten his palm over the one I still have holding myself together. I can feel the flood flowing between my fingers, the pressure not enough. “There’s somuch.”
“I-I know, I know-w. Butlook at me.” I swallow hard and do my best to slow my breathing. “Emmett, just look at me, baby.”
He’s gone pale. Tears raining down his cheeks. Sight darting all over.
“There’s too much,” he cries, and I push on his hand over top of mine.
There is too much.
“It’s going to be ok-kay—look at me, Emmett.”
