Page 83 of Just Ten Seconds

I open my mouth to speak, but he raises a finger and places it on my lips.

“I never thought I’d feel this way again. It’s exciting and scary. I know you’re not ready, and neither am I, but I’m also satisfied. I’m at peace. So, I’m just going to hold you. Let us just be here and hold each other like a man and woman who just had incredible sex. And I mean it. It was out of this world. I want to bask in this and not be Mara and Dean, the ones who met in a crisis. I want to be Mara and Dean, the couple who met in a café. Can we do that?”

“Yes,” I tell him because I want that more than anything. To just be the people who met in the café. “Let’s lie here and just be us.”

He softly kisses me. “I like us.”

I think I more than like Dean Delgado. And the last thing I want to do is hurt him.

I’ll give him his moment of happiness, but tomorrow, I might just end up breaking his heart.

“Benjamin!” I shout as he pulls the trigger.

I never see the bullet leave the chamber, but as it hits the center of his chest, the piercing sound of the loss of life is as loud as a barrage of thunder.

I fall to the floor; my head feels like I’ve been drugged. The earth is silent, except for the high-pitched tone that rings steadily in my ears. The floor feels like it’s moving, and I look at my hand that is now throbbing from how I landed on it. I curse the pain that shoots up my arm because it reminds me that this is real. What I just saw is real.

I look up just as he grips his chest. Looking at his blood-coated hands, he comes crashing down, first onto his knees and then face-first to the floor.

My breathing is erratic. I can’t get enough air as I watch my husband stand there with his arm still outstretched, holding the gun in his hand.

Benjamin, what did you do?

He turns toward me, his face blank, and slowly, the remorse builds on his face as what he’s done registers. He drops the gun and runs from the room.

With tears in my eyes and ears ringing from the commotion, I look over at the lifeless body on the floor.

What am I doing? Why am I here when I should be over there?

With him.

I crawl over and lay my hand on his back. He’s breathing but ever so lightly. I try to roll him over, but his body is so heavy that it takes me three tries to do it. When I succeed, his eyes are still open, and his face sallow.

“You’re going to be okay,” I cry, placing my hand on his chest where the bullet entered his body. “Help is—” I gasp. I haven’t called the police. I’ve wasted time. Precious life-saving time where I should be proactive.

I freeze. What kind of woman am I?

I reach for the office phone, but it’s not on the receiver. My purse has fallen to the floor. I look around to find it, and I see it by the door where I fell to the floor. I move to get it, but he grips my hand, puling me back with his weakened grasp, letting me know he doesn’t want me to leave.

“It’s too late.” His body starts to shake, and I feel the life leaving his body.

I move my hands over his wound and try to push down, controlling the blood he’s losing. “No. Hang in there. It’s going to be okay.”

His hand finds mine again. “Mara,” he breathes.

“No.” I hold his head and cradle it in my hands. “I’m gonna get my phone and call the paramedics. I have to get you help.”

“It’s too late, Mara. Just …” he speaks so softly, and I can barely hear him. Except when he utters his final words, “You’re bleeding.”

I pop up from the dream in a panicked gasp for air, my body ramrod straight.

The room is pitch-black, except for the faint light of a charging cell phone. The pillow is drenched, and my hair is sticking to the side of my face from the tears fresh on my skin.

The pounding in my chest rings in my ears as I heave to regain control of my breathing.

“Baby, are you okay?” Dean sits up next to me and lays a tentative arm on my back.

I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing as he leans down and kisses my shoulder.