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“Pretend it’s a dolphin or a seagull or something,” I whisper to him as I try to follow the instructions for putting more pressure on the wound.
“What?”
“Pretend a seagull was looking for a fish and they thought your body was an ocean and they took a nosedive into your shoulder.”
“I can’t. I can’t.” He’s getting more worked up and I am desperate for the ambulance to get here. I don’t know how much blood he’s lost and I don’t know if the knife hit a major artery or vein inside his body and all I can think is that I cannot watch him bleed out. I cannot watch him die.
“Everett, my guy,” I grab his face with my bloody hands and kiss his forehead. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
“I failed you,” he whispers, his breath washing across my lips. “I’m failing you.”
“You did not fail. I’m safe, I’m okay. You protected me.”
He tries to swallow, but he’s fading faster and faster. I know that he’ll probably be fine, he’s going to get light-headed and that’s okay, but a cold web of fear is spinning tighter and tighter around my heart. He’ll probably be fine, but he could also very well not be fine. He might not make it.
“Everett Park, you cannot leave me a widow,” I say, grasping for the darkest humor, tears falling down my face as ambulance sirens draw closer. He finally gives in and passes out and I stay with him, pressing both my hands to his chest to try to slow the bleeding until I hear the paramedics pounding on the front door. I rush to open it and hurry back to show them where Everett is, slumped over and lifeless.
They take over and I stand back alone, shaking, watching them make quick work of getting Everett on a gurney and out the door. I follow close behind and they load him in an ambulance that’s already flashing its lights. As they’re about to close the door, I step onto the bumper, determined not to leave Everett.
“Family only,” says the paramedic.
Relief washes over me. “I’m his wife.” The guy hesitates. “Would you like to go down to city hall and check the records?” I snap. He nods me in and I take a seat.
The moment I sit down, everything blurs. My senses dull as someone asks me a question.
“What?”
“How did this happen?” asks the other paramedic, a female who’s checking out the handle of the knife.
“Home invasion,” I say.
The male paramedic has just said Everett’s going to need a blood transfusion.
“Do you know your husband’s blood type?”
I shake my head, feeling ashamed, while everything is replaying in my mind like a movie.
Everett saved my life when my stupid self decided to look up and out the window to see where the intruder came from. He pulled me back, despite his pain, and I narrowly missed being shot in the head. He did his job to the utmost and I have to believe he’s going to be okay.
The trip to the hospital is quick but harrowing. The way the paramedics communicate never shows any kind of hope or despair, it’s all neutral medical talk.
“We’re going to take him in to surgery when we get to the hospital. Does your husband have any personal belongings on him?”
I’m going numb now as I watch them cut off Everett’s sweatshirt and then his t-shirt, leaving his pale, muscular chest exposed. And right in the middle of his sternum rests his wedding ring on a silver chain.
If I thought I couldn’t live without Everett before, it was merely a reliance based on function. But as I bury my face in my hands and sob, I know that I need him because he is everything to me.
CHAPTER 11
The day I met Everett was so odd. The first half and the second half were from two different worlds. In the morning, I went to a conference as a sort of ambassador for The Milenna Company, but mostly I wanted to start making my own connections in preparation for my personal business plans.
I tried to dress the part of a smart CEO, and I remember feeling so badass in my navy cape and tall black boots paired with an office-appropriate sheath dress. My sleek ponytail was swishing as I walked and I thought, “This is what it’s like to be a chic, uptown businesswoman with the world on a string.”
I headed home on a high, wanting to recap the event with my mom, but remembering that she and Dad were on their annual anniversary getaway to Paris. I had a whole empty afternoon in front of me and I thought I might read a book or even watch a movie.
I stepped inside the comforting entryway of home and shut the door, the carpet runner muffling my heels as I headed to my room.
But Mr. Delancey stepped out into the hall, giving me a heart attack of surprise and stopping me in my tracks. He didn’t say anything, just waved me over, his face undecipherable.
