“It’s okay.” My voice was barely there. “You here. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” She shook her head hard, already digging for her phone with trembling fingers. “You been shot. This is not okay.”
She called 911, her voice breaking while she gave them the address, stumbling through the details, crying too hard to hide it.
When she hung up, she looked down at me, and that look on her face did something ugly to my chest.
Like she really cared. Like this wasn’t fake for her either.
“They’re coming,” she whispered. “They’re coming, and you’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay.”
“Sianni—”
“No.” Tears kept falling while she shook her head. “Don’t you dare say nothing crazy to me. Don’t do that. You not dying. You hear me? You not dying.”
I tried to smile, but it pulled wrong from the pain. “Wasn’t saying goodbye.”
Her mouth trembled. “Then what?”
I looked at her, really looked at her.
At the tears on her cheeks. At the fear in her eyes. At the way her hands wouldn’t stop shaking while she tried to hold me together.
“Was gon’ say I’m glad you here.”
Her whole face folded, and she leaned down ’til her forehead pressed against mine.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here. I’m not going nowhere.”
The darkness started creeping in around the edges of my vision, thicker now. The pain was still there, but it felt farther away, like it belonged to somebody else.
“Stay with me,” she begged, voice cracking right against my skin. “Please, Kyrie. Stay with me.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to, but my eyes got heavier.
“Kyrie!”
Her voice was the last thing I heard before everything went black. And then there was nothing.
“Breaking news—FloridaVipers star wide receiver Kyrie Maddox was shot at his home earlier tonight. Authorities have confirmed he sustained a gunshot wound to the arm and is currently receiving medical attention.
“Sources close to the situation say the shooting may have involved someone known to Maddox, though details are still limited at this time.
“We’ll continue to follow this developing story and bring you updates as more information becomes available.”
The words kept echoing through the room, loud as hell, but somehow still not loud enough to drown out the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
My fingers tightened around my phone, grip trembling just a little as I stared at the screen. I blinked once, then twice, like maybe the shit would change if I looked at it long enough.
It didn’t.
A shaky breath slipped past my lips, my chest rising and falling a little too fast as I fought hard as hell to keep it together. Tears burned behind my eyes, threatening, pressing, ready to fall, but I refused to let them.
He got shot, but he was not dead. They ain’t say he was dead. It was just his arm.
Just his arm… I kept repeating that shit in my head like it was supposed to calm me down, like it was supposed to make this feel any less real.
It didn’t.
