BOOK 3: CHAPTER 41 - DREAMERS (1)
He said I taught him how to dream. Maybe he taught me, too. When fate brings the strongest man I know to his knees, dreams aren’t enough to save us. But Timothy and I have one last chance, and the power to decide how this ends. A tragedy for the ages. Or the perfect ending to the most beautiful song ever written... Ours. ///////////////////////////////////////////// I’ve never watched a ballet with blood before. But that’s what this is. The two EMTs move around Timothy in a dance they’ve rehearsed, one I’ve never seen and have no part in. He’s strapped to a stretcher and lifted into the back of an ambulance. One of the techs, a woman, asks me questions about what happened. I try to answer, but I can’t take my eyes from Timothy—not when they put a mask over his face that hides his shallow breathing or when the lights inside the vehicle make his pale face look yellow. After the stretcher is locked in place in the ambulance, the vehicle takes off. I want to hold him, but there’s so much blood. It covers his dark dress shirt, making it stick to his torso and his arm… My stomach lurches. They’ve got his shirtsleeve up and his arm lifted in the air. I perch on a stool near Timothy’s face, but his eyes are closed. I clutch my necklace hard enough my knuckles go numb, as if I can rewind time, can bring us back to the restaurant or the theater before a man I’ve never met ripped my reality in half. “Hey, you,” I murmur, brushing Timothy’s damp hair away from his forehead. “It’s going to be okay.” My heart’s in my throat. I used to hate how it raced for him. Now I’d give it to him if it would bring color back to his pale face. They hook him up to something, and a monitor beeps in slow intervals in the corner. The vehicle bumps every now and again, and every time, the gurney jumps with it. I want to tell them this should be easier on him, but they’re working away, one on each side, and the monitor continues to beep, and I can’t even watch them. In minutes or hours, the vehicle stops. The back doors swing wide, and a serious-looking man in scrubs eyes the scene inside the ambulance, his gaze finding me. “Miss, you need to move out of the way.” I stumble out of the ambulance and watch them lower Timothy to the ground, adjust the bed, and wheel him inside. I follow until they swing through a set of double doors, where I’m stopped by the same man from outside. “I need to stay with him,” I insist. “Are you family?” “He doesn’t have anyone else.” His eyes soften. “Can you help with medical history?” I follow him to chairs in the waiting room around the corner, answer his questions as best I can. Still, I don’t know if Timothy’s parents or grandparents had heart disease. If he’s ever had a reaction to medication. What I do know is that he’s strong and resilient and brave. That his smile fixes every problem I’ve ever known. I know I love him and if he’s not okay, I’m going to stop breathing. Finally, the man sets down the clipboard. “Thank you. We’ll let you know when we have more. If you need to leave, please see the administration desk first.” He nods toward a window on one side of the room. I pace the hallway. There are people in beds outside of rooms. Is that what’s going to happen to Timothy? I find my way to the desk. “I’m here with Timothy Adams. He’s in the emergency room.” “I don’t have any updates on Mr. Adams at this time.” “I know, but… he needs the best care available.” She pulls up a file on her computer. “Of course. All of our patients receive the best care our hospital can provide. Does he have insurance?” My throat works. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter what it costs.” This shouldn’t be happening. Everything was working out—with me, Timothy, our lives… “Miss, are you feeling light-headed? You look pale.” “I’m fine.” I force a smile and turn back down the hall, ignoring the people passing me. I want to call my dad. He’d know what to do. More than that, I’d give anything to see him and Haley and Sophia brush through those doors. A tear escapes down my cheek. I open the contacts on my phone and hit his number. Each ring has my stomach twisting tighter, ready for the next second when he’ll answer. I’ll tell him I’m sorry for everything, that I’ll make it up to him if only he’ll help me with this one thing. But there’s nothing. After four rings, I get his voicemail. I try to formulate words to leave on a message. Someone attacked Timothy with a knife. He’s bleeding like crazy. We’re at the hospital. I don’t know what the fuck to do. It’s all my fault. A girl younger than me walks down the hall with a cast on her arm. Her parents are with her, but when she gets closer, I notice the scratches along her face, the bruises. She meets my gaze, and her face is composed. Pull it together. For Timothy’s sake. The beep jerks me back, and I hang up without saying a word. I swipe at my cheeks before making another call. “Is he okay?” Jacob demands as he stalks inside, Andie and Rica in tow. The clock on the wall says it’s two in the morning. I tell them what happened. As I’m finishing, a man in a suit enters the ER doors, searching the waiting room. I rise to meet Zeke, the record exec who signed Timothy less than two weeks ago. “I told them to spare no expense, but…” He understands immediately. “You don’t think they’ll take you seriously.”
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