“I won’t be long. You get comfy, and I’ll be back with your milk.” My words come out so fast and shaky, I don’t sound like myself.
“Victoria. Stop,” my brother roars. My head snaps up, and I freeze. Tears roll down my brother’s usually glowing, bright face. Now all I see is pain and darkness etched into his expression.
I swallow down the golf ball-sized lump wedged in my throat and whisper the words,
“Is it Noah?” He shakes his head.
“Jack? Brad?” I ask, knowing it’s pointless.
“No, Tor, it’s not them,” he chokes out.
I shake my head. My brother’s unspoken words hit me like a freight train.
No, it can’t be.
Ice slides through my veins as his words ring in my ears. I want to scream, I want to tell him he’s wrong, that they’ve made a mistake, but the words die on my tongue.
“I’m so sorry, Tor,” Harry sobs. “They tried to save him. We…” His voice sounds so far away that it’s hard to make out everything he’s saying.
I shake my head as my wide eyes focus on Harry’s, my body numb. This isn’t real. We are having a baby; he’s coming home. The room spins, and my trembling hands reach out to steady myself against the wall as I become hungry for air.
“No,” I whisper. That's all I can manage. My stomach lurches, and I cover my mouth to stop the bile that’s worked its way up my throat from exiting my body.
“Trent died, Tor. I’m so sorry.” He takes a step toward me, and I step back, my head shaking rapidly.
“No, no, no, you’re wrong. You got it wrong,” I repeat. He reaches out to hold me, and my hands fly up. “No,” I bellow. “Tell me you’re wrong,” I demand as wetness coats my cheeks.
“I wish I could,” he cries.
“Tell me you’re wrong,” I beg, my whole body convulsing uncontrollably. It feels like a bucket of ice has been dumped on me, and when my back finally hits the wall, my brother stands in front of me and repeats the words.
“Trent died, Tori. I’m so sorry.”
An ear-piercing whistle echoes from the kitchen, and something that sounds like a blood-curdling scream. The kind you hear on TV when someone loses a loved one. When my knees hit something hard and arms wrap around my frame, I realize the screams are coming from me.
How can this be real? How can he be gone? I didn’t get to tell him I loved him, and I didn’t get to tell him he was going to be a daddy.
No, this can’t be real. In a minute, I’m going to wake up, and this will all be a terrible dream.
Yes, I just need to wake up from this nightmare, and this won’t be real.
Come on, Tor, wake up. Just wake up.
Chapter Six
Noah
I bolt up, my t-shirt soaked in sweat and my heart racing, scanning the room, feeling like I’m being watched. I shake my head, and it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. Beside me in a cot bed is Jack, and opposite is Harry, and Brad, and beside Brad, the empty cot where Scotty should be, and then it hits me, making my stomach roll.
I spring out of my cot bed and run to the makeshift bathroom we have outside our tent and hurl the contents of my stomach into the bowl, which at this point is just water. I haven’t been able to eat since we lost Scotty two days ago. I fall on my ass and press my back to the wooden panels as I try to calm my breathing. My hands shake uncontrollably. I close my eyes, but all I see is blood and Scotty’s face. I bring my hands to my head, hitting my palms against my temples, willing the thoughts to goaway. The burn and the squeeze in my chest feels like I’m being suffocated. A hand grips my wrist, pausing my movement, and I look up to see Brad’s wild eyes staring back at me.
“I, I can’t, I can’t breathe,” I choke out.
“Fuck.” He takes a seat in front of me and presses the palm of my hand over my heart. “Feel this?” He taps my hand that covers my heart. “You are breathing. I need you to slow it down. Focus on what I’m saying.”
I try, but the noise in my head gets louder; the images are so prominent I can’t erase them.
“Noah, focus,” he yells, tone firm. “You’re safe, and you’re breathing. Take a breath in, one, two, three, four.”
