One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

I don’t even think about the dispatcher. I hit End and fly across the kitchen. Emergency workers push through the door so hard, I’m thrown back against the wall. They’re all around her, and I’m struggling to keep it together.

Breathe. Don’t pass out. Stop crying.

One of the men has been talking into a little black device attached to his shoulder since they arrived, and a silver stretcher bangs through the door. It’s happening so fast. Brawny men heft her delicate body onto the white mattress, and they’re strapping her down, running oxygen and tubes to her arms and against her beautiful face. They’re being too rough.

“Please be gentle!” I cry, fighting the flood of tears that refuse to stop.

I’ve got to call Patrick. I need Stuart. I need my brothers here. I want to protect her, but nobody listens to me. My teeth grind. I’m so useless and helpless and weak. It’s the worst feeling in the universe.

“We’re taking her to Northwestern Memorial.” They’re at the door, and I’m trying to chase after them.

“Please let me ride with you!”

A female steps forward and catches my shoulders. “It’s better if you don’t.” Her voice is calm, soothing, but it doesn’t help my crumbling insides. “We’ll be working on her on the drive, and you’ll be in the way.”

“I need to be with her. My mother needs me.” I try to push past her, but she holds my shoulders.

“Is there anyone you can call?”

Marcus. Shaking my head. “I need to call my brothers.”

“See if you can get a ride—you shouldn’t drive—and contact your brothers on the way.”

With that, they’re gone. All of them. I’m left standing in the silent kitchen alone, my brain spiraling in my head.

Sylvia didn’t wake up.

I can’t stop shaking.

I’m so afraid.

Without thinking, I touch the buttons.

* * *

Marcus

My expensive shoes squeak against the cheap linoleum floor, and I’m practically running through the ICU. One thought repeats in my head—She called me.

Dammit, that has to mean something.

The moment I see her, the very second her form registers in my brain, my instinct to protect her twists in my stomach.

Amy sits in a dark blue vinyl chair, her slim arms hugged tightly around her midsection as if she’s holding her insides together with all her strength. She’s l

eaned forward slightly. Her hair is tied back, but thin wisps frame her face. She looks so young and vulnerable. I’m moving even faster now. Her chin lifts, and red-rimmed eyes meet mine. I don’t stop until I’m in front of her, pulling her into my arms.

“Come here.” My voice is sharper than I intended. I can’t help it. This woman holds my heart in her fucking hands, and seeing her like this, so shattered, impacts me deeper than I was prepared to handle.

She doesn’t seem to notice as she melts into my embrace. I feel her grip the back of my shirt, and all I can do is hug her to me, kiss the top of her head, and tell her over and over I’m here. It’s going to be okay.

I’m not lying. Sylvia was beyond fortunate Amy was there to respond so fast.

“You did everything right,” I murmur between pressing kisses against her beautiful hair. “She’s going to be okay. This is one of the best hospitals in the country.”

She’s shaking as I hold her, and I know she can’t answer me. I don’t quite remember my own mother, but I can imagine how frightened she must feel. Hell, I’d be apoplectic if it were Edward, and he’s never been the warmest of fathers. The closest I can imagine is if something happened to Elaine. My chest clenches, and I hug Amy again.

“Don’t be afraid, my love.” Yep, I said it, and I’ll keep on saying it until she hears me. At this point, she’s too shell-shocked to pull away.