Connor’s desperate voice cuts through the ringing in my ears and shoots straight to my heart. I try to move, to speak, to give him some sort of reassurance that I hear him, but my body hasshut down.
“Tilly?”
He’s much closer now, his voice a low whisper meant for only me. I feel his warm fingers delicately brush away the hair from my face before cupping my cheek.
“The ambulance will be here soon, you just have to hold on.” His free hand grips mine tightly, and I wish with all my heart I could squeeze it back. “Just hold on, baby.”
A tear escapes me but gets lost in the seawater already saturating my body. To the sound of Connor’s frantic pleas, I lose consciousness once again.
I’m becoming all too familiar with the feeling of waking up in a moving ambulance. Once again, I’m strapped down to the bed and hooked up to noisy machines that add to the pounding in my head. Connor is close, close enough that his scent comforts me instantly. He’s holding my hand, a little too tightly if I’m honest, and stroking my arm.
My lungs still feel as though they’re on fire, and my side throbs with each inhale, but I’m feeling more awake now, so I gather my energy and try to speak.
“Connor?” My voice is a wheezy croak, but at least I managed to get a word out.
Connor’s sigh of relief is instant. “Tilly? You’re awake! She’s awake!”
“I told you she’d wake up soon,” comes another man’s kind voice, which I assume belongs to one of the paramedics.
“Baby, how do you feel?”
Like I’ve just tried to drown myself and failed.
“Great,” I lie and give a weak thumbs up.
“Can you open your eyes, Matilda?” asks the paramedic.
I feel like all of my energy has already been used up, but I’m a people-pleaser, so I try anyway. My eyes crack open slowly, and I’m met with Connor’s chocolate gaze. He smiles at me, but his eyes remain full of concern, and the stress of the last however long – I realise I have no idea what time it is or how long I’ve been unconscious – is showing on his beautiful face.
“You scared the shit out of me, Til. I was worried I wouldn’t get to you in time.”
I was worried youwould.
With each word causing a searing pain in my throat, the paramedic suggests I don’t try to talk for the duration of the journey. Instead, Connor fills the silence by telling me how much he loves me and how he plans on looking after me once he takes me home.
It’s then that I remember the worst part of this clusterfuck of a situation.
“Rhys,” I croak suddenly.
“What?” Connor asks, both confusion and hurt evident on his face. “No, I’m Connor.”
Shit.I shake my head as vigorously as I can, which isn’t much considering the neck brace.
“Rhys… phoned,” I manage to say.
Connor furrows his brow as he tries to follow what I’m saying.
“Rhys phoned you before you… fell?” Connor clarifies, choosing his wording carefully.
I nod.
“He wants…. me… or phoning… police.” I force out the words, desperately wanting Connor to understand.
“He wants you? He wants you to what?” I get the feeling that Connor knows what I’m getting at but is hoping he’s wrong.
“He wants… me back. Tomorrow. Or he’ll phone… police… on you.”
Connor glances down at his bruised knuckles as he puts two and two together, his jaw clenching as he processes the information. It’s silent for several minutes, apart from the beeping of machines and the rustle of the foil blanket I’m wrapped in, but eventually Connor speaks.
