Suddenly and with more power than I ever would have thought possible, she grabs both of my hands, squeezes, and pulls me from beneath the surface of the water.
"GET AN AMBULANCE HERE NOW!" Ryker yells.
His voice is muffled and sounds distant. Still, I'm glad he's near me. I can die knowing he came back for me. Before I think another thought about my knight in shining armor, there are warm lips on mine and deep breaths being blown into my mouth and lungs.
A second later, water is shooting out of my mouth. I'm coughing and spewing... spewing and coughing.
"Oh my God! What has he done to her, Ry? What in the hell has he done?" Joss shrieks, turning me to the side, putting my head in her lap, and stroking my hair back and away from my face. As if innate, she begins uttering a repetitive chant-like prayer. One that gives me relief.
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. God, please help her. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. God, don't let her life end this way. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Show her your mercy and prove to the world you are still able to create miracles. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up—" Joss is stopped midsentence with a grievous sob.
"Baylee, can you hear me?" Ryker yells, trying the only way he knows to make it through to me, but something stronger than me and extremely difficult to fight is begging me to follow Momma by reminding me that life is just too hard and too painful to keep going.
I hear Ryker frantically calling my name and I feel Joss tenderly kissing my forehead—in between prayers—right before the world around me vanishes and is silenced.
CHAPTER 23
WILL TO LIVE
Ryker
Jesus Christ! If she doesn't make it. Jesus Christ! What if she doesn't make it?
After what seems like hours, I've paced this hall so many times I can tell anyone who asks how many tiles are laid end to end from the elevator to the door into Baylee's room, the trauma room. At this level I trauma center, in that room, they have the best of the best trying to save Baylee. At least that's what Olivia, the nurse taking care of Baylee, told me when she ordered me to wait outside while they did their jobs.
Mom and I are having very different reactions as we wait to hear if Baylee's going to live or die. Enraged, I'm nervously pacing the hall and silently daring anyone to ask me to wait out in the emergency room waiting area. I have made the necessary calls (promised obscene donations) and have been given the required permission.
I'll be damned if I get any farther away from Baylee than this hallway.
In a state of shock, Mom is sitting in one of the chairs right outside of the room. Anxious, she's wringing her fingers, praying non-stop, and listening to every word being spoken within Baylee's room, waiting for one that will give us a clue as to what's going on with her.
With enough abruptness to catch my eye, Mom puts her hand to her mouth, her shoulders bounce, and giant tears stream down her face. I'm stopped dead in my tracks. There's no doubt in my mind that she has heard something that's made her think Baylee's death is inevitable. Or confirmed.
Needing to know what she's hearing, I dash to her side and listen. There are several high-pitched and continuous alarms piercing the room and making their way out to us. The urgency behind every physician order given to the room of nurses turns my insides out.
With the sound of those alarms permanently etched into my mind, a grief that feels like it may never end consumes me. I want to burst into that room, take Baylee in my arms, and beg her to come back to me... tell her I'm nothing more than a shell of a man without her.
God, please... please... please don't let her die. Take me if you have to take one of us.
Placing the palm of my hand on the wall, I lean my forehead onto it. The next thing I know, I'm punching the wall with my other fist, punching it like it's Colt's face, punching it like doing so will keep me from hurting, worrying, breaking down.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Stop it, Ry. You're going to break your hand," Joss says before wrapping her palm around my knuckles and squeezing like she's afraid she's about to lose me too.
We're both close enough to the trauma room to hear everything they're saying. There are dozens more orders for life-saving drugs, oxygen, blood, fluids, and shocks. I can tell by listening that this team is relentless. I can also tell by their desperation that their efforts so far have been useless and their options are dwindling in a hurry.
Suddenly and noticeably, the piercing alarms stop and the room goes eerily quiet. There's not a sound coming from man or machine, and instinctively, I know what that means.
She's dead. They've done all they can do to save her, and nothing they did was enough. The silence is respectful.
I crumble into the wall, and as if I'd turned into a wild animal grieving for my mate, I roar. Joss hugs my shoulders and cries with me.
A long time later and somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel another set of hands on my shoulders. "Mr. Russell. Mr. Russell. We were able to save her," Nurse Olivia says urgently and gently.
I jerk my head around and spring toward her. "What did you just say?"
As if everything about me is frightening, she steps back and reiterates, "It looks like we've saved her. She has a long recovery in front of her, and it will be touch and go for the next few days, but she's still alive. The doctor will be out in a few minutes to talk to you."
Thank you, God! Thank you so much, God!
When I glance over at Mom, I see that she's gone through the last few minutes with me. She's as relieved and as exhausted as me. I pull her into my arms and say, "She's going to make it, Mom."
Unable to speak, she nods and wraps her arms around my neck. She's still crying, but these are tears are of joy and not grief. I squeeze her tight.
Thank you, God! Thank you so much, God!
* * *
Hours later, we're in a room, waiting for permission to see Baylee. I've not laid eyes on her since I pulled her from underneath Colt and out of the tub where he tried to kill her.
If that twisted fuck hadn't tied himself to Baylee, I'd have left him in there. Unfortunately, I couldn't pull her out without dragging him along. I nearly went berserk when the EMS team divided their efforts. Half of the team worked on saving Baylee while the other half worked to save Colt.
I told them that he tried to kill Baylee, that she'd be dead if he had his way, that he didn't deserve to be saved, but they ignored me and had the police escort me downstairs.
I'm just about to make more calls to find out what the hell is taking so long when a woman steps into the empty waiting room and says, "Mr. Russell?"
Mom and I rush over to her and I see from her badge that she's a physician. Dr. Le.
"I'm Mr. Russell."
Dr. Le nods. "Ms. Messenger is ready for visitors."
I'm instantly ready for Dr. Le to lead us to the room, but she doesn't make the first move. Instead, she looks at me sadly and says, "I need to let you know that she's on a ventilator, a machine that's breathing for her. She's not awake or alert. Some part of that is related to the trauma she endured. The other part is the medication we're giving her so she won't fight against the ventilator. We'll do some tests in the morning to see if she can breathe on her own, but until then, the machine will do that for her."
I nod, assuming she's given me all the information I need but quickly realize there is more.
"We've sutured her wrists, replaced the blood she lost, and she has lots of tubes coming from her. There's one in her chest where we're giving fluids and medication; there are the tubes to the machines being used to monitor her; there is a tube coming from her mouth, which is connected to the machine breathing for her; and finally, there's a tube coming from her nose. It's being used to suction out her stomach."
Deep down, I'm glad Dr. Le prepared me for what I'm about to see, but I can't hide my irritation with her for not taking me straight to Baylee.
Dr. Le has no idea how much I need
to see her.
Without any new details to share, Dr. Le turns her back on us and begins walking toward the ICU. Even though she doesn't say a word, I'm sure we're meant to follow her. She takes us through secure double doors after she swipes her badge in front of the flashing lights to the right.
We pass several patients' rooms before we come to the one she's in search of. She opens the sliding door and waves us through. Mom goes through before I step in behind her. When I see Baylee propped up in the bed with the machines around her that are doing all the work her body would normally do, I'm struck by how frail she is... by how weak her grip on life is at this moment.
I go to one side, and Mom goes to the other. We both grab a hand, and I drop to my knees. I bury my face in her palm, kissing her and silently praying she makes it through this.
The room is quiet with the exception of the very loud breathing of the machine at the head of Baylee's bed and the pinging of the monitor hanging over it and signaling Baylee's every heartbeat. I'm no doctor, but it seems to me that it dings a lot more often than it should for someone who's lying in a bed.
After a few minutes and seeing that we don't have any questions, Dr. Le says, "I'll be checking on my other patients. The nurses will let me know if you have questions."
Mom answers for us. "Thank you, Dr. Le. We appreciate everything you've done for our Baylee. She's so special to us. We don't know what we would do without her... without you and the team of people who helped her."
Dr. Le walks over and puts her hand on Mom's shoulder. "It's what we're trained to do. Besides, we've done the easy part. Baylee's recovery will be the hardest part of all of this, and she has to do that all by herself."
Not if I have anything to do with it. I'll do anything I can for her.
I kneel and Mom stands next to Baylee's bed for a long time before a nameless, faceless person decides we're here for the long haul and brings both of us a straight-backed chair. I hear Mom utter thanks. I don't say anything. I just keep my face buried in Baylee's hand, bargaining everything I own and everything I am for her to get well, to come back to me.
Hours later, a finger beneath my chin wiggles. My stare jerks up to Baylee's face. Her eyes are still closed tight, leading me to believe it was accidental. Then her lids open and close one quick time. She's trying to wake up, but she's weak.
Instantly, my face is near hers. "Bay... you're going to be fine. Mom and I are here with you," I say, kissing her forehead and basking in the knowledge that she might actually survive this... that I might survive this.
CHAPTER 24
SURVIVAL
Baylee
Holy shit! It's been three days since Colt tried to kill me, and I'm still weaker than a newborn calf.
"Let me do that for you," Ryker says, helping me slip a T-shirt over my head as I get dressed to leave the hospital.
I squint my eyes at him. "I don't want you to see me like this. We just started dating. I need for you to think of me as sexy every single time you see me naked. Helping me get dressed while I'm weak like this will make you always see me as some helpless imp that needs to be coddled."
Ryker laughs before pulling me into his arms. "Don't you worry, Bay. As soon as you're better, I'm going to do lots of things to you and for you, and not one of them will make either of us think you are a helpless imp."
My chest squeezes tight. I look up and into his eyes, the ones that have been watching over me night and day ever since I was nearly killed.
"You know I love you, right?" I say aloud for the first time ever.
A beautiful grin spreads across his face. "Yes, I do, and I love you too, babe."
Ryker leans down and kisses me and pulls me into him. I let him offer me his strength, swearing I'll do the same for him if he ever needs it.
When Ryker's phone rings, I pull away from him. He has business to take care of, and I'm not going to interfere with that. After Ryker sees who's calling, he glances quickly my way. It's almost as if he believes answering it is a betrayal to me.
"Who is it?" I ask.
"James," Ryker says hesitantly.
I shrug and shake my head. "He didn't try to kill me. Colt did. Stop boycotting everyone in the world who knows Colt." I scold him.
Ryker rolls his eyes and answers, putting the phone on speaker so I can hear everything. "Hello."
"Ryker... it's me."
Ryker's entire body stiffens, and his brows furrow.
"Eden, I thought James was calling."
Too weak to stand for long periods, I sit down on the bed and watch the conversation unfold before me.
"I suspected you were avoiding my calls. I knew you would never avoid James, and I needed to talk to you," Eden says, and her words are just barely bitter.
"If you knew I wouldn't take your calls, then why call me?" Ryker asks, and I make a mental note to never get on Ryker's bad side. I think I would cry if he ever used that hateful tone with me.
"Ryker, I know as much as you about everything that's happened recently. Now that we know how sick Colt is, we're making sure he gets the treatment he needs."
Ryker huffs. "Too little, too late it seems to me."
"Ryker, you know none of us saw that coming. We never would have let things get that far if we'd have known what he was thinking or how far off the deep end he was," Eden defends.
"We could go on for days like this, Eden. Cut to the chase. Tell me what you want."
"I want you to rethink what you're doing with your business... pulling everything away from Wyatt's firm. James has too much to worry about right now without losing you and your business," Eden says, and intuitively, I know there's more to her comment about James than meets the eye.
Ryker does too. "Stop this shitty game of cat and mouse. Tell me what's goin' on with James... why he couldn't make this call himself," Ryker demands.
I'm amazed at how well Eden is able to manipulate Ryker and drive their conversation exactly where she wants it to go. Right then and there, I know I'm going to have to keep a close eye on her. She knows Ryker way too well.
Crumbling into obvious tears, Eden pauses dramatically before saying, "Ryker... Daddy has been diagnosed with stage-four lymphoma. The same disease Joss had when he stepped in and did everything in his power to save her. It's time for you to repay the favor. I need you to do whatever he asks of you until he goes into remission... if he ever gets into remission. After that, we can all go our separate ways."
One look at Ryker and I can tell he's in shock. He's not sure whether to chastise Eden the bitch for using James and his illness to control him to get what she wants or to console Eden the ex-girlfriend and long-time family friend for the tribulations they're about to endure.
I can tell by the look in his eyes and the sympathy and grief wafting from him that he's going to do exactly what she asks of him. Ryker knows what James would want, what James needs, and what he owes James.
Holy hell! This bitch is good.
"I'll hold off until he's in remission," Ryker concedes.
Her tears dry instantly. "Thank you so much, Ryker. This will mean a lot to him."
Ryker nods. "Eden?"
"Yes."
"I want you to call me every night and let me know his status. Do you hear me?" Ryker demands.
Having gotten exactly what she wants, she says, "I will, Ryker, I promise." I can hear the glee in her voice.
I square my shoulders and squint my eyes. I'm in this for the long haul, and nobody—not her, not James—is going to jerk Ryker around while I'm still alive.
Bring it on, Eden!
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
While the Still Standing series has lots of fun and exciting twists and turns, this story was not written to make light of a very serious topic. Domestic violence. In fact, it was written to help shine a bright and blaring light on a subject that needs to become an intolerable act within our families, cities, states, and nations.
There are those who can put a cost on domestic violence.
For me, the aftereffects (distrust, fear, hate, grief, depression, etc.)... the loss of quality of life can't truly be measured.
According to Domestic Violence Statistics, every day, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends; a U.S. woman is assaulted or beaten every nine seconds; domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women (ahead of car accidents, muggings, and rapes); men who as children witness their parents' domestic violence are twice as likely to abuse their own wives; and unfortunately, the depressing stats go on and on.
Domestic violence is an epidemic that must be addressed, that must be annihilated. As such, I pledge to donate $0.50 from every regular-priced ($3.99) sale of Left (for the first three months post release) to a local (Houston Area) women's center committed to ending domestic and sexual violence.
I'm also including the link to the OAG's Protective Order Kit. It is filled with important lifesaving facts as well as an application for a protective order.
Finally, I leave you with these words and hope and pray that they help just one person... one beautiful woman realizes she deserves more:
Never settle for less than you deserve.
—Unknown Author
Grave Bound (Secrets, #1)
2012 NaNoWriMo Winner
Emily Riddle has lived her entire nineteen years inside a patriarchal commune led by her father and her stepbrothers. There are more rules than she cares to admit, but the most important one, keep it in the commune, is the one most difficult for her to abide by... especially since the only people willing to champion her cause live on the outside.
When Emily learns her father and brothers have promised her to Lorenzo, a man she despises down to her core, she rebels. No matter the consequences, she refuses to marry someone who'd rather beat her than caress her.
A day of hooky that starts out as a tiny act of defiance—sneaking out of the commune for a swim—soon turns into the best day of her life. After spending time with Levi, a man camping near the lake, she finds what true romance looks like and catches a glimpse into a future that's filled with love and admiration rather than hate and submission.
Left (Still Standing, #1) Page 25