Chapter 36

Driving after Bailey has been the weirdest experience of my life. She's always miles ahead of me no matter how much I speed up. And the weirdest thing? She's headed right for the cabin we stayed at. So when she reaches the state park, I speed up, wanting to know what the fuck she's doing. The problem is that she's miles ahead of me, still, and I'm getting more nervous by the second.

What is she doing?

Why is she coming here?

Does she know I'm following her?

No, there's absolutely no way she can know unless she searched my location, which I highly doubt she did. How did she even remember how to get here? I didn't use a GPS when I brought her, and she couldn't have remembered every single street I drove through. No way in hell.

I finally pull up to where the location leads me, except she's not here. She's not here. But her car is, although empty. I wonder if she went to the lake—the trail leads right up to it.

I open my car door and immediately hear my name.

"Theo!" Desperate cries reach my ears. "Theo!"

My hands shake as I get out of the car and slam the door, trying to figure out where she's at. But there's no more sound, there's no more cries. She sounded desperate though, which makes me run faster than I ever have.

It still doesn't feel fast enough, though. This trail is two miles long, and each mile feels longer than the last. Finally, I reach the lake, yet I still don't see her. I don't see anyone. Except suddenly, I do. I run to the shore, where bright blue pants are on the ground, half of a naked woman with blood fucking everywhere, half submerged in the water.

Oh, God.

Bile rises to the back of my throat, and I turn my head and begin to throw up. With my hands on my knees, I try to breathe through my nose. However, it just won't stop coming. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I run to the woman. Please don't be my girl. Please.

I take my phone out of my back pocket and dial 911. Giving the operator as many details as possible, I drop to the ground and drag the woman out of the water. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me, a mouth wide open, a shirt full of blood, and a gaping hole in the abdomen. Fuck.

It's her.

MyBailey.

I didn't get here fast enough, and I know exactly who did it.

A roar flies from my mouth, and tears begin to stream down my face. "No! Bailey, baby, wake up!"

"Do chest compressions, sir." The woman calmly reminds me, but it only makes me want to throw my phone across the fucking lake and into the water. How can she be so goddamn calm when my world is falling apart? If I thought Bailey broke my heart before, it's nothing compared to this. "Now."

The woman snaps me out of it, and I place my hands on Bailey's chest, beginning compressions. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but I've seen it done on TV. With every compression, water flies out of her mouth until I'm sure she's choking on it still, but I have to get her heart started again. I have to.

"The police are almost there, and so are the paramedics." the woman says. "They can see your car."

"Bailey," I whisper. "Hold on, baby, they're going to help you." Tears stream down my face. God, please don't take her. "Stay with me," I beg. "Stay with me, baby."

Hope blossoms in my chest, hope that they can save her. Although it's gone just as quickly as it came when I look down at her blue lips and purple face, her eyes still open. I can't stand to look at them, lifeless, so I look at the water instead. My arms begin to burn, my chest too, but before I know it, I hear the crunching of the rocks under the soles of shoes. The moment I turn my face, I see the police and paramedics running toward us.

Please save her.

We're not done.

I need more time.

Please. Please. Please.

The paramedics come to me, and one of them asks, "Did you move her at all?"

"Yes." I nod. "Her face was underwater."

"Fuck," one of them mutters.

"Okay," the man replies, his eyes glancing down at her.

And then it's chaos, absolute madness, as they get her on a gurney as fast as possible and begin to all but run back to the trail. I follow closely, not wanting to be stranded, and when they turn on their sirens and peel out of the lot, so do I. I follow them closely, not giving a fuck I'm going over one hundred miles an hour, not caring that I might get pulled over. I'm not stopping until I'm at that hospital.

I pull up to the nearest Emergency Room and park, then get out of my car and run to the receptionist's desk. The receptionist looks at me with wide eyes, and it's then that I notice the blood coating my palms and clothes. I just can't bring myself to care about what they think.

"Bailey," I gasp out, my chest heaving. "Bailey Thomas."

The woman looks at me in confusion.

"Gunshot wound to the abdomen and raped." I lower my voice.

"Jane Doe." She nods once. "Who are you?"

"Her husband."

"She's in surgery right now," she confirms my suspicions. "I can take you to a private waiting area while she's in surgery."

"She's alive?" My heart constricts in my chest, and the lady nods. "Oh, God."

"She is."

"Take me to her," I say quickly. "Please."

The kind woman leads the way, taking me through the double doors that lead to the patient rooms and then into one of the waiting rooms. It's a small space with bright white walls and yellow seats. Two blue recliners that pull out into beds also take up most of the room, and I go directly to one of them and sit down, my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair. I tug at the strands hard, needing to ground myself, and the nurse clears her throat.

"Someone will come in with updates from time to time." Camille—according to her name badge—says softly. "If you need anything, the bathroom is right across from this room and so is the nutrition room."

"Thank you." I nod once. Not that I'll need it. Basic human necessities are unimportant to me right now. The only things that matter are breathing and keeping a pulse so I can know Bailey is alright.

I take my phone out of my back pocket and begin to dial Jeremy's number, except when I see the crusted blood all over my hands and inside my fingernails is the instant that my hands start to tremble, and I drop my phone. "Fuck," I mutter, picking it up.

I dial Jeremy, and he picks up immediately. "Hey, T. What's up, man?"

I swear I try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob, and it rattles me from the inside out. "She?—"

"What. Happened?"

"She was dead!" I yell. "We're in the hospital." I sob again, my shoulders shaking my entire body. "Bailey has been shot."

Jeremy sucks in a sharp breath. "We'll be right there," he replies, and I hear rustling keys in the background. "Hang tight, bro."

"Bring Cheyenne," I tell him, then hang up.

There's a knock at the door, and I immediately straighten. "Come in!" I say, wiping my tears as fast as possible, but it's useless since the nurse has already seen them. I bet there's blood smeared under my eyes now.

"Sir?" The petite blonde looks mousy and scared but still walks in and shuts the door behind her. "Are you here about Bailey?"

I exhale a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. You got her name right." I scrub a hand down my face, coming up wet. "It was Jane Doe when I first got here."

"She nods, "Yes, you told the receptionist her name and she changed it in the chart. I'm Layla, and I'm one of the operating room nurses taking care of your wife. Do you mind if I sit?"

"Please," I reply softly, trying to control my body. It's shaking so hard my teeth are rattling, and she gives me the most sympathetic expression while handing me tissues. "Nooo—I—is she okay?"

"She has a heartbeat," Layla says. "However, we're having a hard time dislodging the bullet without damaging vital organs," she replies with the nicest, softest voice I've ever heard in my life.

Just how many times has this poor girl had to give bad news? I imagine it's almost every day. But she's not making me feel any better. In fact, all I feel is dead inside. Nearly as dead as the love of my life. "I'll come to update you before we move her to the ICU, but for now, it'll be a while before we're done."

"What's a while?"

"It's hard to say." She gives me a sad smile. "She's not stable, and we have to get the bullet out. She's lost a lot of blood."

"Did you do a rape kit?" I blurt out. That motherfucker needs to die.

"We did."

"Thank you," I reply.

Layla gets up from the chair across from mine and opens the door. Before she can get out, all of my friends stare at me from the other side. Cheyenne pushes past her and looks at me up and down, stopping in the middle of the room.

"No!" she wails, then drops to her knees. "No, oh my God, no!"

Cheyenne crawls to me and grabs my hands, inspecting them before continuing to sob. I hoist her up from under her armpits and bring her to my lap, and she immediately nestles herself into the crook of my neck, shaking in my arms. I don't know how long we cry together before she calms down, but eventually, she pulls away and stands up.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my words coming out shaky. "I should've been there sooner. I checked her location—I fucking followed her. I just wasn't fast enough. I'm so, so, so sorry."

"Theo." Cheyenne cups my cheek, trying to remove the smears of blood from under my eye, "It's not your fault. Thank you for finding her. She wouldn't be in this hospital—" She chokes on a sob, "If it weren't for you."

Jeremy sits in the chair next to me, his eyes never straying from Cheyenne. "What have the doctors said so far?"

"The nurse who just left said Bailey is still in surgery." I don't want to talk to him about this. I need to speak with someone about Bailey being raped. I don't know if she would want that, but I know she trusts Cheyenne. And I need to trust someone. "That they still need to get the bullet out of her abdomen, and they will move her to the ICU when she's done. Oh, and if anyone asks, I'm her husband." I stare at Cheyenne. "And you're her sister. Understood?"

A chorus of yes' rings out in the room, and Chey nods her head slowly, questions in her blue eyes. "Is there anything else?"

I peer around the room at Matt, Oliver, and Noah. They're here for me, of that I have no doubt. Except for whatever reason, this feels too intimate, and I want them gone. There's just no way to say it nicely?—

"Hey, guys," Jeremy says to them. "I think we should give them some, um, privacy."

The guys all nod and say their goodbyes. But before Jeremy can leave, Cheyenne walks after him and grabs his wrist. He turns around slowly and with wide eyes, and she pleads with her eyes. I don't know what kind of silent understanding they've come to, but he nods and sits in the chair furthest from us.

"Now." Cheyenne sighs, sitting next to me once more. "What are you not telling me?"

"Bailey was…" I tug at my hair and whisper, "raped."

Chey gasps, her eyes filling with tears immediately, and then she jumps up and screams at the top of her lungs. Jeremy gets up from the chair and runs to her, scooping her up in his arms and taking her to the chair he was sitting in. "That—" She hiccups and sobs, "Motherfucker."

I know, Chey. I know.

"They did a rape kit," I mutter, not looking at her. "I heard her scream my name, you know. I was right there, almost there. Until I wasn't."

"It's not your fault," she cries out. "Tell him, Jer. It's not his fault."

"It's not your fault," Jeremy whispers. "Stop being so hard on yourself."

"Hard on myself?" I yell, getting up from the chair and pacing. "She was fucking dead, Jeremy! Because I didn't run fast enough. I'm a fucking athlete!"

"She was going to die anyway," Cheyenne says, "He's wanted her dead for months, Theo. This had nothing to do with you."

"Okay," I whisper. "It wasn't my fault."

It wasn't my fault.

At least that's what I keep trying to convince myself of as we spend the next two hours in silence, not daring to guess what must be happening behind the closed doors of the operating room. My only hope is that she makes it and recovers—at least physically. Seeing as I have the awful feeling she will never be the same again.

I thought she had built a wall of ice between us. Only that will be nothing in comparison to when she wakes up. If she wakes up. That thought rattles me to my core, and a fresh set of tears stream down my face. I have to be strong for her. When she sees me, she has to know I am and will always be here, no matter what.

Now all that's left for me to do is talk to the police. They're apparently giving me some time, but I'm sure I'll be the first one to be questioned. I was, after all, covered in her blood and she was dead and raped and?—

The door to the waiting area opens, and in comes Layla. She's not smiling; instead, her eyes look almost as dead as Bailey's. As soon as she closes the door, we all stand, and she sighs. I've never heard a sadder sigh in my entire life.

"She's in the ICU."

"We want to see her—" Cheyenne starts, but she's interrupted by the nurse.

"It's touch and go right now," she says softly. "She's not out of the woods yet, but if she makes it through the next two days, maybe she has a chance. The bullet nicked her artery when we moved her into the operating room. We had to repair that, and she lost a lot of blood. Don't be scared when you see her; I'm sure she won't look like your Bailey." She stares into my eyes as she says it, and my own well with tears again.

Your Bailey.

I wipe my face with the back of my blood-covered hand. Even after all these hours, I haven't cleaned up. I'm just not in the right mindset to do it.

"I'll take you to her now."

Those words shouldn't get me excited, but I just want her to know I'm here. I want to talk to her, even if she can't talk back. I want to kiss her—I just got her back, and this might be the last kiss. I shouldn't think like that…but there are so many possibilities. If she pulls through, she could retreat from me completely. Or, the worst possibility, she could die, and the future we talked about that night in the tub would never happen.

The nurse takes us through some hallways and an elevator, then through even more hallways. Finally, we stand in front of some glass sliding doors, room number 98—just like mine. My heart drops. I do not like coincidences. I don't believe in them.

We enter the room with the nurse, and she begins to explain all the wires, tubes, and bandages covering Bailey's entire person. But what really gets me is the tube down her throat. Can she not breathe on her own? Or is she asleep just as a safety measure?

What the hell is going on?

I don't have much time to ask questions though, because just as my mouth opens to utter the insane thoughts going through it, there's a flat line.

A fucking flat line.

No.

"Bailey! Baby!" I yell, "Don't do this!"

"No!" Cheyenne screams, grabbing onto Bailey's feet and sinking to her knees.

I go around to Bailey's side as a flood of people invade the tiny room, and the nurse yells at us to get out. But I don't go, instead I hold on to Bailey's hand and squeeze once.

"I love you, Bailey." I sob. "Don't go yet, please. Stay with me."

Then everything is chaos.