Sting (31 page)

“Here,” I groan out, and take a step closer. “I’m here.”

“Come sit.” He pats the side of the bed. Gabs moves over to the chair in the corner. The timber legs grate along the linoleum floor as she drags it close to his bedside and sits.

“Ryan?” I ask, wiping a tear from my cheekbone.

“He lost a lot of blood, Willow. I’m not sure if we got him help in time.”

My head spins out of control. I shake it roughly from side to side. “No. No. No.” I gasp.

He’s gone. I can’t even … No.

“I haven’t been given an update, but he went straight to surgery from the chopper. I’ve seen this before …” What has he seen before? What the hell happened on their boat today? Did they capsize? Did Ryan nearly drown?

“No!” I scream. “He’s fine. He has to be.” I stand and stumble on my feet. Luckily, I gain my balance as I set my sights on the door. He’s in this building somewhere and he needs me by his side. I need to be with him. I can’t let him go.
Why? Why is this happening?

“Willow,” he says, gruff and authoritative. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

I run from the room, deeper into the ward.

“Ryan Palmer,” I screech, when I see the same police officer.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down.” He grips my upper arms, albeit gently, and I wilt in his hold.

“Where is he? Please tell me what’s wrong,” I plead, gasping for air. I can’t breathe. Not knowing what has happened to the man I love is suffocating me. Every second is eating away at my soul.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” he says, ushering me into a nearby sitting room, with a square table and plastic chairs. He holds my arm, guiding me into a seat.

“There was a shooting. He’s been in surgery the last few hours. I’ll get a status update to you as soon as I can, but you need to remain calm. We’re all praying he pulls through. Believe me, the doctors are doing everything they can.”

I slump onto the table in defeat, and cry my heart out. I can’t hold it back.

I’m a stupid, stubborn girl for not fighting him to get to the truth sooner. Instead, I wasted the final days I could have had with a strong, loving man, who made me feel like a queen, a princess and Cinderella all wrapped into one body. I’ll never again feel his breath on my skin, his possessive hands on my body, or the quivering of my heart like when we made love. He’ll never know that he’s created life, and that stabs at my heart more than anything else.

My life has become a fairy-tale gone wrong. My happily-ever-after, which was within my grasp, has withered and twisted into my darkest nightmare.
I’m too late.

The officer taps my shoulder. I glance up through blurry eyes as he places a box of tissues in front of me. “I’ll leave you for just a minute. Let me see what I can find out, okay, Miss?”

I can’t even bring myself to nod.

A pair of high heels clacks on the floor. A warm hand rests on my shoulder, and squeezes.

“I got this,” Gabs says in her familiar motherly voice.
If only I had my mum here.
It tears at my heart, thinking of my own mother and how I had to shut her out of my life to keep me safe. I’ve given a lot of things up in my life, but I’m not giving up on Ryan. My heart can’t take this assault. If he’s gone, I’ll give up. I’ll stop trying. What’s left to live for if I lose him?

No. There is something.

Her sweet perfume caresses me as she takes a seat beside me. I can’t look her in the eye, instead staring at my fingers in knots in my lap.

“Talk to me, honey.
Please
,” she says, softly.

I shake my head, and bury it in my arms folded in front of me on the table-top.

“I’m here, no matter what happens. I’ve been here … Right where you are.”

Oh my God. Yes, she has.

My emotions rage a battle within me, tearing at my insides. I feel as if I’m breaking—my heart, my soul. Gabs had to deal with this. She lost the love of her life. Somehow, she didn’t break. She’s a strong remarkable woman, and whatever happens, I know she’ll be by my side.

I stand up and look my dear friend in the eye. “My heart breaks for what you went through, Gabs. No one should ever have to feel like this.”

“Honey, you’re a survivor. We’re one and the same. I got you. No matter what happens.”

Gabs sweeps me into her arms and I let it all out. Our tears meld together in some sort of strengthening ritual.

Please, God. Please save my love.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

I struggle to hold Gabs as she withers in my arms. “No,” she cries, jerking her head from side to side. I pull out a chair and help her sit down as she trembles.

****

A short time later a man in blue hospital scrubs walks into the room, escorted by the uniformed officer. He takes the matching blue surgical cap from his head, exposing his bald scalp.

“Are you Miss Asher? I’ve been told you’re Mr Palmer’s other half?”

I jump to my feet. “Yes. Yes I am.”

Gabs links her fingers with mine in a silent offer of support.

The doctor extends his hand and I slip my free hand into his and shake it. “I’m Dr Rosenthal. I just came out of surgery. Mr Palmer lost a lot of blood. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s relatively stable.” His words are clear and his speech robotic as he nods his head with each break in his dialogue.

I silently thank the sun, the moon and the stars above that he is alive.
He’s alive!

The waterworks start again. This time, each tear is laced with relief. “When can I see him?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as it can be arranged. It’ll take a little time for the anaesthetic to wear off, and he’ll be groggy for a while,” he says, finishing with a nod and a fleeting smile.

“Thank you so much, Doctor. I don’t know how to thank you.” I throw my arms around him and give him a quick hug.

His beeper goes off, filling the small room with the siren-like squeal. I jump back in fright.

“Um, ah, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, his voice now carrying more empathy than before.

A short female nurse with matching blue scrubs dashes into the room, grips the doctor by the forearm and tugs. “Doctor, he’s coding,” she says, her small voice wavering.

They both run from the room, heading left down the corridor—the opposite direction to where I came in.

“Wait! Who’s coding?” I call out after them.

“You need to wait in here,” the officer says, standing just outside the doorway with his legs firmly planted shoulder-width apart.

My chest labours as I drag air in deep. I size up the policeman. This man will not get in my way. He will not keep me away from him.

I dart to the right of the doorway, then pull back and duck through the opening he leaves as he tries to stop me. He catches the back of my tank top with his finger, but I’m too quick. I run as fast as I can down the ward, my sneakers squeaking on the lino floor with each quick step. I follow the commotion of beeping alarms and staff dressed in blue rushing around.

I catch the distinct sound of the squeal of a machine. I turn right into another corridor. The sound grows louder and gains a higher pitch with each second. I stop outside a window and stare in horror at a room filled with people who are all crowded around a lifeless Ryan.

“No!” someone cries out.
Was that me?

I cover my mouth, stifling the scream that’s burning up my throat. My body stiffens and I freeze. His gown is torn open, exposing his bare chest. A large white patch is taped over his hip, and a bloodied bandage covers his collarbone.

Two sharp quick beeps pierce my ears.

“Clear!” a young man shouts. He pushes a pair of white paddles to Ryan’s chest on either side of his heart, one above and one below. The paddles thump his body with an almighty punch. His back arches, then slumps back to the bed.

A quieter machine makes a long even tone in the background.
It might as well be the sound of death.

“Charge!” someone orders. A second later the machine commences its squealing octave once more.

“
Don’t leave me
,” I scream, and stumble into the room.

“You can’t be in here,” a male voice says. Someone wrenches my right arm back. I yank it forward and dig my feet into the floor for leverage. Another set of arms clutch at my shoulders. I scramble to the ground. They lift me to my feet.

It’s all happening in slow motion.
I’m going to lose him
.

A hopeless breath leaves my parched lips.
If he goes, it might as well be my last.

I throw my head back and scream as the enormity of this moment collapses on top of me.

I can’t do this. I can’t deal.

A sharp twinge in my lower belly causes my knees to buckle. I stop fighting and let them escort me from the room. The door slams in my face, but I don’t miss the sound of the machine thumping at his chest a second time.

I bend over and rest my hands on my knees. Sobs wrack my body, crushing my insides. Another ache between my legs has me clutching my stomach. A trickle of fluid runs down from my shorts. I run my hand over my inner thigh. Blood coats my fingers.

Pounding footsteps grow louder. A flustered policeman and a breathless Gabs rush to my side. I turn my palm upwards. Gabs’ eyes grow wide.

“Gabs?” I whisper, as I slip to a heap on the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MICK

(real name, Connor Macey)

Gabrielle huffs her fringe from her bloodshot eyes and snuggles into my chest. The poor darling looks as if she’s been through the ringer. This situation must really be hitting home for her.

“How’s Willow doin’ in there?” I ask.

“The bleeding has stopped, but she’s waiting on an ultrasound. The poor girl is so frightened she’ll lose her little miracle,” she chokes out.

I drag in a deep breath. My chin quivers. I clench my jaw before she notices how much this shit is affecting me. I can’t stand to see a woman in pain, emotional or otherwise.

Willow could lose her baby. That shit is life-altering. It fucking sucks. Palmer and his girl should be settling down, having a family. They’re both young and in love, and I get the impression that it’s what they both want.

Palmer needs to pull through. He needs to know what’s waiting for him out here. I only have one regret in my life, and that’s not having a child. I should’ve made it a priority. I should’ve worked harder at my marriage. I’m forty-two now, and I’ve missed my chance. I don’t want to see history repeated in the eyes of someone else, especially such a top bloke.

Gabrielle sniffs at my chest, and her shoulders jerk in tiny movements as she cries.
Aw, shit.

How do I assure her that everything will be okay? This old bloke is out of touch. I never was real good at this emotional stuff.

“There’s nothing else we can do, love. It’s up to the doctors now.”
And the man upstairs.

“I know, Michael.” Sniff. “It’s just … how can life be so cruel? It’s hard to believe that there’s a god when shit like this happens to good people.”

“I know,” I say, and give her a gentle squeeze when, in fact, I want to squeeze the hell out of her and drag her off somewhere and just curl up in her arms.

I close my eyes, and I see it again.
The blood bath.

Seeing my partner lying there … life spilling out of him … I mean, how is it physically possible for a person to lose that much blood and still live? In nearly twenty years on the force I’ve never experienced something so bloody. I’ve never lost a colleague, and this is as close as it gets. We still might lose him.

I need time away from this shit. When I spoke to my controller this morning, I jumped at the offer of counselling. I need help to erase the images from my mind. I just keep seeing blood. On my hands. On my clothes. I can almost taste the metallic tinge in the air.
The smell of death.

If the nurse didn’t give me something to help me sleep last night, I wouldn’t have gotten a wink. It’s there, every time I close my eyes. It sends my heart racing into a frenzy. I get the sweats, followed by chills, and my head dives into a groggy, messed up place. As for being on a boat again, I’ll be avoiding it at all costs.

“Michael,” Gabrielle says, her tone warm and comforting. She cups either side of my face in her soft hands.

“Huh?” I take a good long look into her pretty hazel eyes, watching how the flecks of gold twinkle with the light shining down above.

“Are you okay, hon?”

I don’t know.
I shrug.

“Have you got someone you’d like me to call?”

I have no one. Pretty sure the ex-wife wouldn’t fly halfway across the country for my sorry arse.

Gabrielle pulls me into her embrace and rubs circles in slow motion between my shoulder blades with her flattened palm.

This simple human contact has me ready to cry like a bloody baby. With a series of quick blinks I try to piss off the tears.
Way to woo the lady, Connor.
What the hell happened to me on that boat?

“I can’t leave yet, but when it’s time I want you to come home with me. I’ll cook you up a good meal when you’re up to it, and you can get some rest. You shouldn’t be alone.”

With words like that, it’s no wonder I’m falling head over heels for this lady.

“You’re a good woman. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she says and curls her hand around her ear and turns her head so that her ear is closer to my mouth. Her sweet, lollipop scent fills the space between us. It reminds me of the slow dance at the pub we nearly got to have.

I pull her in tight and kiss her temple. “You’re an
incredible
woman. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your offer,” I whisper in her ear.

She clears her throat and leans back, examining me. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. But no funny business. I’m feeling a little vulnerable right now.” I chew on the inside of my cheek and watch closely as a slow smile creeps over her lips. They’re not perfectly painted like they usually are. As beautiful as she is all dolled up, she doesn’t need it. She looks just as pretty without it.