I need to say it.
Nurses move around me carrying blood bags and surgical trays while the trauma surgeon presses hard against the wound.
“We’re losing too much. OR now.”
Surgery.
The word punches straight through my chest.
They start moving her again immediately.
I go with them automatically.
Nobody stops me this time.
Not until we reach the double doors leading deeper into surgical.
The doctor turns toward me finally.
“You can’t go farther.”
I stare at him.
He doesn’t back down.
“She needs surgery. You being in there won’t help her.”
Every instinct inside me says ignore him.
Push past him.
Stay with her anyway.
But then I look at Olivia.
Really look at her.
Still.
Too still.
And I know he’s right.
This is where I hand her life over to strangers and pray they bring her back to me.
God, I hate that.
I reach for her hand one last time.
Cold.
Too cold.
“Hey.”
Her lashes don’t move.
Still, I lean closer.
