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When Payton saw Randy move to shoot, both she and Colton fired. The bullets hit him in the right hand and left thigh, effectively incapacitating him. He'll receive medical treatment for his wounds and then face a lifetime in prison for what he's done. No doubt, in prison, he'll be served another type of justice.
Like Randy said, the Sanchez family has people everywhere. It's a cruel fate to wish upon someone, but I feel no remorse in hoping that Randy meets his comeuppance. He'll be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, however long it may be.
I glance up at the clock. It's early afternoon, and the team is expected to be at the arena within the hour, but I'm not leaving Em. For the most part, we are trying to keep the situation quiet. Only the Starlings, Coach McCall, and a few players know what happened. If the media finds out, all hell will break loose, and the team needs to stay focused on playing hockey.
Ollie and Ozzy should be landing in Toronto any time now. Calling to tell them that their little sister was shot and in surgery was a phone call I never thought I would have to make and one I never want to make again. Em's mom and Mr. Decker are on their way too. The whole gang is coming to make sure Em is taken care of.
"I should probably get going," Luke says quietly, rising from his seat. He kisses Holly on the cheek and then turns to me. "Coach knows what's going on. As your friend, no one would blame you if you chose to stay. If Holly was in that bed, no one would be able to drag me out of this room. But as your captain and teammate, we need you."
I swallow, glancing at Em. The steady rise and fall of her chest tell me she's going to be fine, but my heart won't let me leave her side until I hear the words from her myself. I'll be useless on the ice if I don't know she's okay.
"Stay until the very last minute," Luke sighs. "Miss warm-ups if you have to. Just make sure you're on the ice when the puck drops."
Half an hour later, Em's still asleep, slowly breathing, looking peaceful in her hospital bed. It's been almost eight hours and her eyes—her good eye, at least— haven't so much as fluttered.
"She'll wake up, right?" I ask Holly, voice cracking. "She'll wake up, and it will be like nothing ever happened, and everything will be okay. She'll laugh at me, call me a worry wort, and tell me to get my ass to the rink."
Holly swallows, biting her lip, eyes teary, and nods.
"Of course, she will," she chokes. "She'll laugh at us both and call us babies."
Dr. Singh, an attractive young Indian woman with olive skin and dark eyes, breezes into the room. She has a bright, cheery voice and looks too young to have finished medical school. But what do I know?
"You must be Ms. Avery's family," Dr. Singh smiles, shaking my hand. "I'll get right to the point. We successfully removed the bullet and repaired the artery it nicked. Luckily, the bullet missed the bone and everything vital and embedded itself in the muscle tissue. Emerson was fortunate the shooter was several feet away from her and using a low-calibre weapon. Any closer, the bullet could have done much worse or severed her artery. She's a very lucky woman."
I look down at Em and the bandage covering the wound.Lucky?I'm not sure I'd call getting shot lucky.
She looks so peaceful, just lying there with her eyes closed. If you removed the monitors and IVs, she'd look like Sleeping Beauty. My Sleeping Beauty. But I'm no prince, and I couldn't save her when she needed me the most. I could only watch as a madman tried to take her life and steal her away from me.
"Why isn't she waking up?" I ask the doctor, giving Em's hand an extra squeeze, hoping my touch will miraculously encourage her to open her eyes.
"Mr. Gunner," Dr. Singh smiles sympathetically. I'm sure, as a doctor, she's dealt with many families impatient for their loved ones to heal instantaneously. "I know you're worried, but I can confidently tell you Emerson will be fine. I expect her to make a full recovery. We did a CT to ensure she didn't suffer any head trauma from the fall or from being struck. The only thing keeping her from waking is the anesthesia we gave her during surgery and her body's exhaustion from healing."
Something inside me breaks and all the terror I've felt since this morning bursts forth in a flood of relief. I can't stop the tears when they come, and neither can Holly. Em is her best friend and her sister in all but blood. We love her more than words can express, and we can't help but cry in relief. Holly walks into my arm, burying her face in my shoulder.
"Thank you, doctor," I sob. "Thank you for saving her. I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done."
"There's no need," the doctor reassures us again before turning to leave. She stops, reconsidering, before turning around. "But there is one thing you can do for me."
"Name it."
"Put the puck in the back of the net tonight, win the next two games, and take us to the Conference Finals."
I laugh, and Holly wipes her eyes, taking a step away from me.
"I'll do you one better. There'll be a pair of tickets waiting for you at Will Call tonight and every other home game of this year's playoffs."
Fifteen minutes later, I'm still at Em's side, willing her to wake up. My window to make it to the arena on time is closing, but I don't want her to wake up without me here.
"It's okay, Ryan. Go. I'm staying," Holly urges me. "I'll text you as soon as she opens her eyes. If you don't leave now, you'll miss the start of the game."
I turn back to Em and lean over to kiss her. Just as my lips are about to touch hers, she twitches.
"Em?"
She stirs again, and then, slowly, her one eye opens. She blinks a few times in confusion, taking in her surroundings. Her mouth must be dry because her tongue darts out, and she licks her lips to wet them. I glance at her hospital tray and grab her some water.
"Ryan? Holly? Where am I?" she asks, lifting her hand and frowning at the IV needle taped to her hand.
