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Then the world seems to shift into slow motion as Ben’s eyes look at me in dazed wonder. Inch by inch, they drop to look at his stomach. And my heart stops. His arms uncross as his hands move to cover the small red stain that grows steadily across his midriff.
“Ben?” I ask, my voice reaching me as if echoing through a long tunnel.
It takes a moment for the shocked horror to catch up to me.
And then my brother stumbles back before falling to the ground.
13
DANI
“Go go go!” someone shouts behind me, and I whirl just in time to catch a glimpse of my brother’s shooter as he tears toward a black Escalade.
Too stunned to process what just happened, I watch the man dive into the back seat, and the SUV peels out before his door even closes.
But I don’t have time to think about that right now.
“Ben!” I call, fighting through the thick fog of disbelief as I turn to kneel beside my brother.
Blood coats his fingers, seeping from his stomach at an alarming rate, even as he tries to cover the wound.
“Oh god, oh god, Ben, you’ll be okay,” I say, yanking my phone from my pocket and dialing 911 with fingers that shake so hard I can barely hit the call button.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks, her voice entirely too calm for the urgency of the situation.
“I need an ambulance to Whitman Park right away. My brother’s been shot,” I state, the panic apparent in my tone.
I don’t bother waiting to hear what she says next as I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and shrug out of my coat.
“Dani,” my brother chokes, his shoulders convulsing as his face drains of color completely. His wide eyes stare up at me in fear, his hands reaching for me.
“You’re going to be okay,” I insist, balling my coat and pressing it firmly against his wound.
Ben cries out, his bloody hands gripping my arms convulsively.
“We have to try and stop the bleeding,” I insist, trying to take on an authoritative voice in an attempt to calm my brother.
Ben collapses back against the ground, nodding, as choked breaths rip from his throat.
“I’m sorry—Dani,” he chokes out, his face twisted with pain and regret.
“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” I ask, just grateful he’s able to talk to me.
Tears stream down my cheeks at the very real possibility that my brother might die here with me.
“I shouldn’t have… said… I know you care,” he chokes through the pain, his ragged breathing cutting his words short.
A tearful laugh bursts from me as I find myself on the brink of hysteria. Keeping my jacket firmly pressed against Ben’s stomach with one hand, I reach up to cup his cheek with my other. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Siblings fight. It’s what we do. You just need to hang in there. Help is coming.”
Ben nods, his lips twisting into a painful grimace as his eyes press closed.
“Ben, look at me,” I plead, panic rising in my chest when I can’t see the life shining in his gaze.
He does as I ask, his eyes opening once again as he takes a moment to search for my face. He’s losing blood far too quickly, and I’m terrified the ambulance won’t get here in time.
“I’m here,” he reassures me, his fingers spasming around my wrist. “Dani… I love you,” he says as if needing to tell me before it’s too late.
“Don’t you say that like you’re going to die on me,” I scold, a sob ripping from my chest.
