Remembering to push to the beat of the song he’d been taught during his initial military training, Nate kept his pace at one hundred beats per minute, counting to thirty as he went.
Don’t leave me, baby. Please don’t leave me.
Those same thoughts repeated themselves over and over in his head as he got to thirty, stopped to give two more breaths, and started the chest compressions again.
“She won’t,” Ghost assured him from somewhere to his right. “You got this, buddy.”
Shit. Nate hadn’t meant to say the words aloud. Not that he gave a rat’s ass.
“Come on!” Nate growled, the muscles in his arms burning.
The pain in his injured shoulder worsened with each compression, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.
Another thirty in, he filled her lungs again and went right back to pumping her heart.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “Don’t give up on me now.”
He’d made it to fifteen compressions during the fourth round when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Nate, man.” It was Matt. “I-I think she’s gone.”
“No!” Nate shook him off and continued pressing. “Gracie can hold her breath for a really long time. She showed me when we were at the lake together. She’s going to be fine.”
His words were strong, but the weight on his heart was crushing. He continued fighting for her, refusing to accept what he already knew.
“Goddamn, Gracie!” he yelled as he finished that cycle. “Breathe! You willnotleave me today, you hear me? You have to breathe, baby. Fuckingbreathe!”
Two more breaths, thirty more compressions.
“She was put through hell, Nate,” Zade tried to reason with him. “She looks really worn down.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nate yelled at his teammate.
“Come on, Carter,” Gabe grabbed his bicep. “At least let me take over for a bit.”
Nate threw the other man’s hand off. “No one else is touching her.”
Beads of water and sweat dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose as he kept pushing against her chest. It would take a team of wild horses—or every man here—to pull him away from her now.
He’d keep pumping her heart until it either started again or his own heart stopped. Nate ignored the statistical numbers running through his head telling him if she didn’t have a pulse by now, chances were, she’d never have one again.
Giving in to the visceral need to feel the life flowing through her body once more, Nate stopped the compressions. He reached up, pushing the pads of his shaking fingers to the delicate skin covering her carotid.
His shoulders fell, his soul dying a little more with each second that passed.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Ghost spoke solemnly from beside him. “You did all you could. Her body just couldn’t hold out.”
“Wait!” Nate’s own pulse spiked. “I think I feel something.”
Praying his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, Nate pressed against her neck with a little more force and waited. He felt it, then.
A slight, rhythmic thump.
“She has a pulse!” He announced loudly, blinking back tears. “It’s faint, but it’s there. I can feel it.”
Whoops and hollers surrounded him, but they’d only won half the battle. Her heart was beating again—thank you, God!—but, she still wasn’t breathing.
Tilting her head back again, Nate pressed his lips to hers and began breathing life back into her.
