My head throbs and spins when I tilt it to deepen the kiss. I plant my hands on his chest and shove him back nicely but firmly. “I’m reallyoff. Gonna try the ocean, catch a couple waves, see if that snaps me out of it.”
It’s November, so the water will be cold, colder than normal. California oceans are always cold, but nothing a wetsuit can’t cure. I already miss the climate of Costa Rica. After ten days of nonstop honeymooning in the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in person, I’m dreading the icy waves but craving the salt. And hoping the negative ions of the sea will cure what ails me.
“Want me to go with?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and cups his hand around my neck, searching my eyes. Before I can answer, he amends his question to a statement. “I’ll go with you.”
But I’m already shaking my head. “No, they want you in the studio. You go. Tell them I’m not feeling that well and ask if I can make it up to them tomorrow.”
“Babe, we’re the talent. We can take a day off if we need it.” One side of his mouth crooks as he winks at me.
“Ew, let’s not bethosepeople. And we just had ten days off.” I grab a handful of the longer hair on top of his head and pull his lips to mine again, then grimace as my stomach coils. “Okay, I need air. I’ll be at the beach if you need me.”
The waves are mostly closed out today, but I find a couple I can ride. Mostly I float with my cheek resting on my board, dragging my hands through the water, trying to ground myself and shake the malaise. A perfect set looks to be rolling in, so I stretch out and begin to paddle. On top of the wave, I swing the board to stay there and coast, but a blinding pain stabs my abdomen. I double over, throwing off my balance. I almost recover when a rush of dizziness blurs my vision and sends me tumbling under the surface. Twisting and turning at thewhim of the sea, I finally resurface to be slammed in the ribs by my board. Hooking my arms over it, I kick my feet till I can stand up and scoop the board under my arm and scramble onto the shore.
Flopping the board down first, I fall to my knees in the wet sand and collapse next to it. I roll onto my back and catch my breath. Before I can, another stabbing pain folds me in two.
Something is seriously wrong. I need help.
I look around. The beach is all but deserted. My cinch sack with my phone is farther up on the beach in the dry sand. I try to stand but double over with another pain so searing, my vision closes in on me. I drop back to my knees and crawl to my bag, rummage for my phone. I unlock it and tap Julian’s name to call him.
It rings three times before he answers, breathless. “Hey, babe. Feel—”
“Something’s wrong. Help me.” Another pain stabs my right side, and the phone slips out of my hand right before everything goes black.
Chapter 34
Julian
Not knowing is the worst. My imagination is all over the place. It doesn’t help that the waiting room is giving caged animal vibes. I’m trying not to pace and freak out the other people, but I’m crawling out of my skin. Ever’s limp body, passed out on the beach, is superimposed on my brain and threatens to empty the contents of my stomach. When she called me for help, she uttered four words and then became unresponsive. After shouting her name to no avail, I dropped my phone and yelled at Auz to call 911 at a dead run.
Finding her on the beach collapsed, sheet-white face, clammy skin and rag doll limbs gutted me. I scooped her into my arms and ran for the stairs. The ambulance pulled up as I reached the front of the house. She was incoherent and mostly out but moaning in pain. The EMTs wouldn’t let me ride with her. I had to follow them. I’ve never wanted to scream at traffic so much in my life. The siren helped to marginally clear the path, but LA is crowded and everyone has someplace to be.
Now in this stale lobby waiting room, I still have no idea what happened to her. Did she wipe out on a wave? Is she sick, like she said thismorning? I’m on my way to the desk to harass someone—anyone—for answers when Allie and Ashley rush in.
Allie takes one look at my face and throws her arms around me. She murmurs things to me like “it’ll be okay” and “she’s gonna be okay.”
When she finally releases me, Ashley clasps my shoulder and asks, “What do we know?”
“Nothing. They didn’t tell me anything when they took her. They wouldn’t let me go with her. And they”—I wave an angry hand at the desk—“don’t know anything. Yet.” I use quotes on the last word, then heave in a deep breath that sounds like a sob even to my own ears. I’m losing it. I throw my hand over my mouth to stop myself from breaking down.
“It’s okay, Julian. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll see what I can find out.” Ashley stalks to the desk and begins muttering to the nurse seated there.
“How long have you been waiting?” Allie puts her arm around my waist and steers me toward a chair. I don’t answer or sit, just shake my head. She sits but holds my hand so that I stand in front of her.
Ashley rejoins us and motions for us to move out of the waiting room and away from others. “They’re working on her. That’s all she’d tell me.”
“Working on what? What the fuck happened? She was out cold, so pale, but didn’t look hurt beyond that. No signs of injury that I could see.”
“They’ll figure it out. They’ll help her, Julian.”
I nod again because I don’t know what else to do or say. I tug the hair on top of my head and begin pacing again. “She wasn’t feeling wellthis morning. Said she felt off, wanted to go surfing, get some fresh air. I should’ve gone with her.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Allie scolds. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“I still don’t. Why won’t they tell us what the fuck is happening?” Yanking on my hair, I turn to resume pacing. I’ll be lucky if I have any hair left by the time they update us.
Help me.That’s the last thing she said to me. It’s playing on a loop, haunting me.
She needs to be okay. I can’t take it if she’s not. I won’t make it if she’s not. I’m trying not to let my brain go there after all the work I’ve done, but the whisper under all the panic says this is what Jayce Keller deserves.I know it’s a lie. Old patterns rearing their ugly heads. A spike of anger has me silently yelling back,But what doesshedeserve? She doesn’t deserve this. Let her be okay. Please, God, let her be okay.I’m not sure when I started praying or who I might be praying to, but if it saves her, allows me to keep her, I’ll pray.
