Curiosity sparked in me as I looked up at him, "Why do you call me 'blue'?" Asher smiled, his eyes filled with love, "Because your eyes remind me of the vast, deep ocean, and your soul shines like the clearest sky on a bright day. You're my calming...
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The sound of the gunshot is like a punch to my chest, and everything goes silent. I see Addy fall, and my body reacts before my brain does—I rush to catch her, but her weight hits me like a ton of bricks. Her shoulder's been shot, and the blood is spreading fast. My world stops. All I can think is, this can't be happening.
"Stay with me, Addy," I say, my voice cracking as I hold her close. My hands press against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it’s like my fingers are useless. Tears start to roll down my cheeks, and they mix with hers. I can't let this be real.
"I love you," she whispers, her voice faint, her eyes struggling to stay open. It's like she's using every bit of strength to say those words.And then she goes limp, her eyes closing, and my heart shatters. I don't know what to do except hold her, begging her to stay. "Please, Addy, don't leave me. Not like this. Please."
Christian is beside me in an instant, his expression hardening when he sees what's happened. He shouts for help, his voice sharp and urgent. The police are calling for an ambulance, but it feels like everything's moving in slow motion. I can't believe this is happening. I just can't.
Christian grabs my shoulder, trying to steady me, but I'm falling apart. "Asher, stay with me," he says, his voice firm. "The ambulance is on its way. Just hold on. She’s going to be okay." But I can see the worry in his eyes, the fear that maybe this is worse than we're prepared for.
I don't know what to do except hold her, my tears falling onto her pale face. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to be safe. But now she's lying in my arms, and I'm terrified that I'm losing her. The seconds stretch into an eternity as we wait for the ambulance, and all I can do is whisper, "Stay with me, Blue. Just stay with me."
The ambulance siren cuts through the night, a jarring reminder of how everything changed in an instant. The paramedics rush Addy into the back, and I jump in after them, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. The ride to the hospital feels like it's taking forever, and all I can do is hold her hand, whispering that it's going to be okay, even though I don't know if it is.
When we get to the hospital, they rush her into the ER, and I'm forced to stay behind. I'm left standing there, feeling useless, as the doors swing shut. The reality hits me like a freight train. I can't be with her. I can't fix this. All I can do is wait and hope.
I pace the corridor, hands in my hair, trying to keep it together. Every minute feels like an hour. I hear the nurses and doctors talking, but it's all a blur. The only thing I can focus on is that door and what’s happening on the other side. My stomach twists with anxiety, and I feel like I'm about to fall apart.
Then, one by one, our families start to arrive. First Christian, with Liam not far behind. Then my parents, and Addy's parents. They all look as worried as I feel. Christian comes over, squeezing my shoulder. "She's strong, Asher. She'll pull through," he says, trying to be supportive, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
I nod, but I can't find the words to reply. I keep pacing, my hands clenched into fists. I can't sit still, not knowing what's going on in there. All I can think about is Addy, lying on that gurney, and me not being able to do a damn thing to help her. It's the worst feeling in the world, and there's nothing I can do but wait and hope the doctors can fix this. Because if they can't, I don't know what I'll do.
My hands are shaking, and it feels like the walls are closing in. The waiting is killing me, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.That's when my father walks over, his face full of concern. He doesn't say anything; he just pats me on the shoulder, a simple gesture that says, "I'm here." And that's all it takes.
The dam breaks, and I collapse into his arms, my body shaking with sobs I can't hold back.Everything I've been trying to hold together just falls apart. I can't stop the tears from flowing. My father holds me, not saying a word, just letting me cry it out. It's like all the fear, all the anxiety, all the helplessness comes pouring out at once. I feel like a child again, and right now, I need this. I need someone to hold me together because I can't do it on my own.
I don't know how long I stand there, sobbing into his shoulder. It feels like forever, but also like no time at all. He just holds me, his hand firm on my back, letting me have this moment to fall apart. Because sometimes, even when you're supposed to be the strong one, you just need someone to lean on. And right now, I need it more than ever.
It's been three hours, but it feels like a lifetime. I've been pacing the hospital corridor, unable to sit still. My family's here, but I barely notice them. All I can think about is Addy, lying in the ER, and I keep praying for good news.Then, finally, the doctor steps out, and everyone rushes over. He looks calm, which I take as a good sign. "She's safe," he says, and I feel a weight lift off my chest. "We removed the bullet, and she's stable. Her ankle is sprained, her left hand is fractured, and she's dehydrated, but she's going to be fine."I exhale, feeling some of the tension leave my body.
She's okay. She's going to be okay. The doctor starts to turn away, but then he stops, glancing back at me. He leans in a bit closer, keeping his voice low. "Oh, and the baby's fine," he says, just to me.I blink, trying to process what he just said. The baby. I didn't even know. My knees almost give out, but I catch myself, gripping the back of a chair to stay upright. I look at the doctor, my eyes wide, and he gives me a nod before he leaves.
A baby. We're having a baby. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but tears are welling up in my eyes. It's overwhelming, but in the best way. Addy is safe, and we're going to have a child. The fear and worry that have been gnawing at me for hours start to melt away.
She's safe. They're both safe.I turn to my family, trying to keep my emotions in check, but I can see the concern in their eyes. I give them a nod, a small smile. "She's going to be fine," I say, my voice a little shaky.
