“Angel,” he answered on the fifth ring.
All day I’d been feeling kind of weird, like I was forgetting something. Now, the sound of my father’s voice, heavily burdened had me breathing hard from anticipation building in my stomach, tightening the tendons at my nape. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Shay.” Those words struck my eardrum like millions of tiny daggers and pistoned down into my chest. “He’s been wounded.”
“What?” I jerked back, like I’d just been punched in the gut, the air whooshing out of my body. “No.” My legs gave out and if it wasn’t for Paris grabbing my arm and sliding a stool under me, I would’ve hit the floor. “Where is he?”
“A hospital in Germany,” he sounded tired.
“Is he...” I couldn’t bring myself to ask anything more.
“Angel.” There was a long-drawn-out pause making me more nervous before he continued, “I know you asked to stay away, and I won’t ask why, but I think you need to see him, just this once,” Dad pleaded. “He needs you.”
“Of course.”
If only I could say more...
30. I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston
Skye – 21 years; Shay33 years
I rushed down the corridors. Somewhere between the phone call and the second my plane touched down at the airport, I’d forgotten how to breathe. If it weren’t for Dad’s constant reminder that I needed to slow down, I’d probably be lying on one of the hospital beds I passed. Godsend, he’d met me at the airport and immediately took over running behind his grandson while I tried not to lose my shit.
Now as I reached the room the receptionist had directed me to, my legs suddenly resembled melted lead. I couldn’t move them and slapped a hand to my chest, rubbing in light circles. If I didn’t calm down, I was in danger of hyperventilating.
Another second later and I stood in front of the thick paneled glass that separated me from the man who held my heart in a cage I’d never want released. The dim lighting made it difficult for me to see his face. Then again, I didn’t need to because no amount of time could erase every single feature, I’d know with my eyes closed. My hand on the handle, I slowed my heartrate.
You’re here now. He’s just a few steps away, Skye.
Swiping at my tears. I opened the door and entered. The soft beep of the machines around him, the only sound in the room guided my feet to his side. Oxygen balled in my throat, stilling my breath.
“Oh, God, Shay.” I clutched my neck, not recognizing the person beneath the puffy eyes and swollen lips, his beautiful face now a frightening mask of blues, blacks and purples. Tears blurred my vision and I quickly blinked them away, needing to see him. “What did they do to you?” Desperate to touch him, I pulled back the hand I’d reached out as I heard someone enter the room.
“There’s been no change.” A doctor and a nurse approached the bed, greeting me with soft smiles. “No response to any of the administered stimuli, either,” the nurse added.
“Should I leave,” I asked even though I silently begged them not to send me away.
