“We’ve got him,” a paramedic says, dropping beside us.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
His pulse thrums beneath my touch, his skin warm, his grip weak but there.
Alive.
“Ma’am.”
“No. Not yet.” I shake my head, my grip tightening.
They ask again.
Only then—
only when I feel him squeeze back—
do I let go.
Chapter Eleven
Cole
BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…
I know it’s not real, but the beeping won’t stop.
The last five hours in the hospital were a blur. There were machines, all kinds of wires, and Nurse Patty, with her lingering scent of bleach.All of it has faded away, except that sound, ghost-drilling into my skull.
BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…
My own personal haunting. Hours and hours of IV fluids, steroids, oxygen, and a monitor that screamed every time my heart did something it wasn’t supposed to.
I stumble out of the Uber in front of the Hotel Bellwether, eyeing it suspiciously. I almost died on its beach, so I feel like that earns me a complaint. Twenty-six years old, and I got EpiPenned on a public livestream in front of God knows how many people.
Yeah, that’s as embarrassing as it sounds.
The Pacific air hits my skin, and my lungs expand on instinct. I take the breath slowly. Then another. Half grateful, half suspicious. I still feel off. As if someone reshuffled my ribs like a deck of cards and didn’t bother putting them back in order.
I’ve never second-guessed my instincts. Until now.
I shoulder my bag and walk past the famous love fountain. The Bellwether looks even more majestic at night with golden light illuminating the grand staircase. Down by the shore, a bonfire glows: voices, laughter, and the smell of woodsmoke threading up through the dark.
Normal people. Having a normal night.
I exhale slowly.Must be nice.
I move through the familiar lobby on autopilot, but my brain refuses to shift gears, replaying it all. The moment my throat closed. The cold pull of the current. The way the world went quiet and blue before everything cut to black. All of that I can tuck away, file it underoccupational hazard, and keep moving.
But her voice?
That I can’t let go of.
Breathe. Please. Come back to me.
I watched the livestream footage from the hospital bed. 100% foolish. Iknew it was stupid when I pressed play. Watching yourself go limp in the shallows is not an experience I’d recommend.
