by Andria Large
Chapter SEVENTEEN
WARWICK
A FEW nights later, a loud banging wakes me up. Jack shifts next to me, then sits up and looks around, frown firmly in place.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I murmur as I sit up. I glance at the clock to see it’s 2:00 a.m.
The banging continues.
“It sounds like the front door,” Jack says, an edge of fear in his voice.
We both scramble out of bed and put on some pants. Diandra peeks her head out of her room just as we step out into the hall.
“What the fuck is that?” she whispers.
I shake my head as if to say, “I don’t know.” I’ve got a bad feeling about this. The three of us make our way into the living room. Diandra flips on the lamp next to the couch, lighting the room.
Boom, boom, boom.
The front door vibrates with each bang. Someone obviously wants in. One guess as to who that someone is. I don’t know how he got my address since the hospital is not allowed to give out that information.
“I know you’re in there, Jack!” Greg shouts. “Open the door!”
Jack and I glance at each other. I can see the sheer terror in his blue gaze. He’s only been home for a few days; how did Greg find out so fast?
“Jack, take Diandra into the bedroom and call the police.”
Boom. The doorjamb cracks.
“No. I’m not going to leave you,” Jack hisses fiercely. “He’s here because of me.”
“I can hold him off until the cops get here,” I reply. “Go.”
Diandra already has her phone to her ear. She grabs Jack’s hand and tries to tug him away. The door suddenly explodes open, slamming hard into the wall. Greg kicked it in. He lowers his foot and steps through the doorway, his face twisted with murder.
“You think you can take him away from me?” Greg snarls, lifting his right arm.
That’s when I see he has a gun and it’s pointed straight at me. I watch as if in slow motion as his finger squeezes the trigger. Then out of nowhere, Jack is in front of me, his panicked voice screaming “Noooo!”
“Jack!” I shout in horror when I realize what he’s done.
The bullet hits him in the chest, exits from the upper left side of his back to graze my shoulder before shattering the TV behind us. Jack stumbles, and I catch him around the waist.
“No, Jack! No!” I cry.
Jack looks down at his bare chest. He brings a shaky hand up to touch the hole there. Pulling his hand away, he looks at the blood on his fingers for a moment before his knees give out, forcing me to take all of his weight.
“No! Jack! What did you do?” Greg wails, bringing his hands up to the sides of his head, one of which is still holding the gun.
I lower Jack to the floor. “Diandra! I need towels!” I scream.
Jack gazes up at me, his eyes glazed. “Am I going to die?” he croaks.
I give him a hard look. “No, you’re bloody not. Stay with me.”
Diandra skids to a stop on her knees next to us, towels in hand. She assesses the wound as she helps me roll Jack onto his side so we can pack towels against the exit wound on his back. Jack groans when we roll him over. She lifts her eyes and meets mine. A small shake of her head confirms what I already know—this is bad, really bad. As much as I’m dealing with Jack as if he were one of my ER patients, I can feel my walls starting to crumble. I just have to hold out until the paramedics get here. I need to remain calm and use my training to save Jack’s life. I sneak a glance in Greg’s direction to find him gone. Fucking coward.
“Warwick, put pressure on his chest. I think I have Quick Clot in my bag,” Diandra says.
I press down hard on the towel over the wound while Diandra gets to her feet and sprints down the hallway to her room. Jack’s fingers brush against my knee, and I look at his face. His gaze is heavy-lidded and vague. I’m losing him.
“Stay with me, Jack. Don’t leave me,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to hold the tears at bay any longer.
Jack coughs and blood comes up, making his teeth and tongue red. Fuck. Where’s the ambulance? He’s not going to last much longer. Diandra returns with two packets.
She tears open one package with her teeth, removes the towel, then quickly dumps the powder over the wound. Then she has me roll him over where she does the same to the wound on his back.
Just as we’re placing him onto his back, the police and EMTs race through the door. They move fast, getting Jack loaded onto the gurney and down to the ambulance. Time is of the essence.
Diandra demands to go with them in the ambulance since she is the on-call cardiothoracic surgeon for the hospital and he has a better chance of living with her there. They don’t argue so she follows them in her tank top, shorts, and slippers.
I’m too stunned to move. I’m on my knees on my living room floor, in only a pair of sweatpants, completely covered in Jack’s blood. It’s all over my chest and stomach and all the way up to my elbows.
“Dr. Aldridge?”
I look up to see an EMT squatting in front of me.
“You’ve got a nice gash on your shoulder. Mind if I take a look?”
“I need to get to the hospital,” I say, my voice like gravel.
“How about you get some shoes and I’ll take you there in the ambulance? That way I can patch up your shoulder on the way,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah, okay,” I whisper.
He holds out a gloved hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. Luckily my shoes are by the front door, and I shove my bare feet into them. The EMT takes my arm and leads me out of the apartment. My whole body is shaking, and it’s not from the chilly night air. The adrenaline is wearing off and I’m on the verge of breaking down. We get into the back of the ambulance, and the EMT has me lie on the gurney where he straps in my legs. I shake uncontrollably as he goes about assessing me and the laceration on my shoulder. I don’t even feel it. As a matter of fact, I don’t feel much of anything.
The EMT drops a pack of baby wipes in my lap. “Try and clean yourself up some. You don’t want to go in there looking like a scene out of a horror film. I think you’re going to need stitches for this laceration, so I’m going to dress it for right now.”
I do as I’m told and clean up the blood as best as I can with one hand. I can’t do anything about the blood that got onto my pants until I get to the doctor’s locker room at the hospital.
When we get there, I walk in on my own and let the ER doctor, Dr. Adam Milner, take a look at me.
“Looks like you can get away with some butterfly stitches here, Warwick,” he says.
“Whatever you gotta do, just do it fast. I got the cops waiting for me and I need to go be with Jack.”
Adam nods, his gaze sad. I’m sure word has gotten around the hospital about what happened. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here. He works in silence as he patches up my arm and covers it with gauze.
“Let me get you a shirt and find out what operating room he’s in.”
“Thanks.”
The three minutes he’s gone are the longest three minutes of my life. He finally comes back and tosses me a scrub shirt.
“OR four,” he says.
“I appreciate it, Adam.”
“Best of luck, man.”
I pull on the shirt and slip off the bed. Before I can go and see Jack, I have to give my statement to the police, who followed me to the hospital. I try my best not to snap at the cop. He’s just doing his job, but I don’t have time for this. I need see Jack. Finally, after fifteen minutes of explaining what happened, I head to the operating room.
I go into the viewing gallery of the OR. A large team of doctors and nurses are surrounding him. Diandra is running the show. I feel marginally better knowing she’s in there. She’s an amazing surgeon, and if I can trust her with my life, then I trust her with Jack’s.
I sit down in the front row of the gallery. Who knows how long the surgery is going to be. That
bullet did a lot of damage. So much so that Diandra had to open his chest. I know for a fact, though, if Diandra didn’t have that Quick Clot in her bag, he never would have made it here. He was dying right in front of my eyes.
Shouts from inside the operating room have me jumping to my feet. I press myself against the glass and watch helplessly.
“We’re losing him!” Diandra shouts. “Get the crash cart!”
I watch in horror as the nurse hands Diandra the electrodes. She barks out orders for medications to be pushed as she places the electrodes directly on his heart.
“Come on, Jack,” I plead out loud even though no one can hear me. “Don’t leave me.”
She stares at the heart monitor. The line jumps as his heart starts beating on its own. A sob of relief escapes me, and I thunk my forehead against the glass.
This time, the tears keep coming and I can’t stop them. I brace one hand on the window while I cover my eyes with the other. The man I love with everything I am is barely hanging on. He just died on the operating table and was lucky to be brought back. What if he dies again and they can’t revive him?
I squat before my knees give out and drop my head into my hands as I continue to sob. I’ve never felt despair like this before. It’s like someone yanked out my heart and stabbed it a million times before booting it across the room.
“Oh, Dr. Aldridge,” says Cheryl’s sympathetic voice from behind me. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders. “Come on; let’s get you in a chair before you fall.”
She helps me into a chair. My sobbing starts to subside as I don’t think I have anything left to cry out. Cheryl rubs circles on my back and stays with me until the gallery door opens and Diandra walks in.
She pulls her mask down and tucks it under her chin. “He’s stable for the moment. I did the best I could, Warwick. That bullet did significant damage to the left ventricle of his heart. I think we need to hope for a miracle.”
It feels like my world is being yanked out from under me. I drop my head into my hands as the uncontrollable sobbing starts again.
Chapter EIGHTEEN
WARWICK
THE PAST couple of weeks have been an emotional roller coaster. Jack’s condition has been touch-and-go, and he’s remained in ICU on a ventilator because he’s stopped breathing on his own.
His parents spend hours by his side every day, as do I. I usually stop by after I’m done working to spend a few hours with him before going home to get some sleep only to do it all over again the next day. I’m physically and emotionally drained.
Diandra has remained Jack’s primary physician because she refuses to let anyone take over his care. I’m quite happy she’s been a stubborn mule when it comes to Jack’s care. I know she’s doing the best for him.
As for Greg, we don’t have to worry about him anymore. He committed suicide after shooting Jack and taking off. The police found him with a note saying he couldn’t live with what he’d done. Fine with me.
After my shift, I make my way up to Jack’s room. When I turn down the hall that leads to his room, I see Diandra and his parents standing there talking. Diandra is smiling, so I guess he’s doing okay.
I stop next to Jack’s mother, Diane. “Hey, what’d I miss?”
“Oh, Warwick, hi sweetie,” Diane says and gives me a hug and kiss on the cheek.
Jack’s parents and I have really bonded over the past two weeks. They know how much I love Jack and the lengths I would go to make sure he gets the best care.
“Hi.”
“Hey, bud,” Jack’s dad, Christopher, greets as he shakes my hand.
“We took Jack off the ventilator today. He’s breathing perfectly fine on his own. I’ve also lightened up the meds keeping him under so we can see if he’ll wake up on his own,” Diandra says with a pleased smile. “I think we’ve finally turned a corner in his recovery.”
“Oh, thank God,” I sigh in relief, my body sagging.
“It’s great news,” Diane says with a soft smile.
“Well, we’re heading out to get some dinner before we go home to rest. Are you staying, Warwick?” Chris asks.
“Yeah, for a little while.”
“Okay. Have a good night. Thanks, Dr. Johnson,” Chris says, shaking Diandra’s hand.
“Good night, guys.”
Jack’s parents leave, so it’s just me and Diandra. She gives me a sweet smile and holds out her arms for a hug. I gladly oblige and wrap my arms around her waist. She smooths her hand over the back of my head a few times.
“You doing okay, honey?” she murmurs.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“You look it. You’ve got some serious dark circles under your eyes,” she says when we separate.
“I think I can breathe a little easier now, knowing he’s getting better.”
“Stop in, say hi, then go home. You need a good night’s sleep.”
“I think I will. Thank you, love.”
I give her a kiss on the cheek before walking into Jack’s room. He looks so much better without that tube down his throat. I go and sit on the bed next to him and take his hand in mine. I bring it up to my lips and kiss his knuckles.
“Hallo, love,” I murmur.
I brush his hair off his forehead, then drift my fingers down over his bearded jaw.
“I think I’m gonna need to trim your beard again. Maybe tomorrow.”
His fingers twitch in my hand. His fingers never twitched before. Could he really be waking up this fast after coming off the meds? I guess it’s possible.
“Jack?”
Nothing. Maybe I was imagining it. I lean in and give him a kiss on the forehead.
“Good night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After one more kiss, I leave to go home and get a decent night’s sleep for the first time in two weeks.
THE NEXT morning, I make my way up to Jack’s room to check on him before my shift starts. I walk in to see his mum is already here and he’s sitting up talking to her. I stand in the doorway in complete shock, not expecting to see him awake and talking.
His weary gaze lands on me, and he smiles. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” I reply stupidly.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Diane says and stands from her seat next to the bed.
She gives my arm a squeeze as she walks by me.
“Come here,” Jack says, holding out a hand toward me. His voice sounds like he’s chewed on some gravel.
I rush to his side and take his hand. “Jack. God, I’m so glad to see you awake. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, my mom was telling me.”
“How do you feel? Do you need anything? Are you in pain?”
He gives me a gentle smile and reaches up with his free hand to cup my face. “I’m okay. I’m just so damn happy to see you.”
I close my eyes and lean into his touch. “Me too, love. Me too.”
“Kiss me?” he whispers.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. I bend down and give him a tender kiss on the lips.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How long can you stay?” Jack asks.
“Only a couple of minutes.” I frown.
He nods. “Okay.”
“I promise to try and stop in when I get a break.”
“Whenever. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles.
I chuckle, leaning in to give him another kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“We’ll talk more later, after my shift.”
“Okay.”
“I gotta go.”
He nods again. “Okay.”
I kiss him one more time before leaving the room to go start my shift down in the ER.
JACK
“I HEARD you were awake,” Diandra says as she walks into my room with a huge smile on her pretty face.
I smile. “Yep.”
My throat is killing me, and I’m trying no
t to talk too much, but it’s hard when I keep getting visitors.
She places her hand on my forearm and gives it a squeeze. “We missed you, Jacky-boy.”
“I would say I missed you too, but I don’t really recall anything from when I was out. Actually I don’t remember much of what happened, which I guess is a good thing.”
She nods, her smile fading. “It’s better that you don’t.”
“What happened to Greg? Did they catch him?”
“Um… Greg committed suicide an hour after he shot you.”
I blink at her in shock. “Oh. Wow.”
“He couldn’t live with what he did.”
“Well… I don’t really know what to say about that.”
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” she says, giving me a pointed look.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. It feels like a weight has finally lifted off of my shoulders. “That’s true.”
After a minute of reflective silence, Diandra speaks. “So, we’re moving you out of ICU today.”
“Okay. Oh, can you make sure to tell Warwick?”
“Yes, I’ll let him know.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. Glad to have you back.”
We talk a bit longer about my recovery before she leaves to go check on other patients. About a half hour later, I get moved off the ICU floor and onto a postsurgical floor. By then, my energy has waned and I’m in need of a nap.
When I wake, the sky is dark and the lights in my room are turned on but dim. The TV is on with the sound turned down. I rub the sleep from my eyes and look around. Warwick is out cold, curled up on the small couch under the window. He’s even snoring softly. Poor guy. He’s been through so much the past couple of weeks.
“Hey, Jack. How you feeling?” Diandra asks as she walks into the room, looking down at the tablet in her hands.
“Shhh,” I reply with a finger to my lips, but it’s too late, Warwick jolts awake.
“Shit. Sorry.” Diandra winces, glancing at Warwick.
Warwick glances around blearily, then sits up and scrubs his hands roughly over his face. “What’s going on?”