53. Wes

Chapter fifty-three

Wes

I carefully scan my surroundings, taking in every detail. With each step I take, the gravel outside crunches under the weight of my sneakers. I make my way around the back of the warehouse. Desperate for a sign of her, I strain to listen, trying to pick up any sound that might lead to her. “Fuck! Layne, baby, where are you?”

Panic courses through my veins, as there is no sign of her. I look over the edge of the property and something catches my eyes on the pier. I sprint and kneel down, picking up Layne’s phone. The realization hits and I drop the phone and mine on the pier, diving headfirst into the bay.

I break the surface of the water, gasping for air, I take in a deep breath and frantically swim underwater. In the dark murky water, white fabric floats beneath me. I struggle to focus on what it is. I fight the strong current and swim closer to the white mass. Layne’s face comes into view, her hair floating around her suspended body, pushing me to swim harder. With my arms looped around her body, I kick my legs and propel us upward; the water rushing past us as we make our way to the surface .

Breaking the surface, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh, salty air, and start swimming toward the pier. “Just hold on,” I beg her, trembling with fear.

Somehow, I can hold on to her and climb the ladder to the pier. I lay Layne’s body down and listen for a heartbeat. There isn’t one. So I begin CPR. “Come back, come back to me, Ma Petite Mort . I can’t live without you. You don’t get to fucking quit; you don’t get to die.“ Compression after compression, I pray for the water to come up. “Come on baby, breathe for me. I’m your oxygen, remember. I need you to fucking breathe.” Tears fall from my eyes, my body shakes from the wet clothes and the chilly breeze. My heart breaks more and more every second she doesn’t breathe. “This isn’t fucking over. We aren’t fucking over, Layne. You’re not giving up.”

With another compression, she coughs and water comes up. “Thank fuck!” I cry, turning her onto her side so she can continue to cough up the water, clearing her airway.

I quickly retrieve my phone from the pier and dial 911, desperately explaining the situation to the operator. They assure me that help is on the way and advise me to stay on the line while I monitor her breathing.

Her eyes open and stare back at me in confusion. “Wes?” Her hoarse voice chokes out. “Am I dead?”

“You were dead Layne, yet here you are. Can you live for me, Layne? If you won’t live for yourself, live for me. I need you so fucking much, baby.” I pull her into my arms and hold her.”

Layne’s eyes fill with tears as she nods weakly, her voice barely audible. “I’ll try, Wes. I’ll try for you.” Relief washes over me as I hold her tightly, realizing how close I came to losing her, again. The sound of sirens grows louder in the distance, signaling that help is finally on its way.

As we wait for the paramedics to arrive, I keep reassuring Layne, whispering words of love and encouragement. I stroke her hair gently, feeling the weight of the ordeal slowly lifting off my shoulders. I forget about the chilly breeze and wet clothes as the warmth of hope fills my heart.

When the paramedics arrive, they swiftly assess Layne’s condition and start administering the medical interventions. I watch anxiously, praying that they can stabilize her. Their professionalism and expertise give me a glimmer of hope, and I silently thank them for their dedication.

They prepare to transport Layne to the hospital and I reach out to hold her hand, not wanting to let go. “I’ll be right there with you, Layne. I won’t leave your side,” I promise, my voice filled with determination. The paramedics assure me I can accompany them, and I quickly gather our phones before following them to the ambulance.

“Sorry about the car being in the way.” I say as they cross the gate’s threshold where the GTO sits.

“It’s all good. Especially given the circumstance.” One paramedic says as they maneuver around the car to the waiting ambulance. They load her up and I climb into my car and follow behind them. On the way, I dial Gavin’s number.

“What’s up, Wee-Wee?” Gavin’s annoying voice chirps from the end of the line.

“I need you to go to my place and lock it up. I’m on my way to the hospital with Layne. Can you do that for me?” My tone is serious.

“She okay?” Concern now in his voice, I hear him mumbling something to someone. “Of course I can. I’ll head there now. Ya need me to grab anything for her or you?”

“Clothes. For both of us, please.” I shiver as we pull up to the emergency room ambulance bay. I find a parking spot and lock up the car before running inside. Dripping wet, the hospital staff stare at me as I make my way to the reception desk.

“Layne Larimore, I’m her husband. She just came in via ambulance.” I catch my breath. “She drowned. ”

“Take a seat, Mr. Larimore. We’ll call you when we know more.” The nurse gives me a half smile and motions to the waiting room full of other people. People stare as I cross the room, dripping water everywhere. I fight to hold back the tears that want to come out.

Breathe Wes.

The medical team continues their efforts to stabilize Layne. I pace anxiously in the waiting room, my mind flooded with memories of our time together. The thought of losing her is unbearable, and I silently pray for her recovery.

What seems like hours pass, filled with uncertainty and fear, until finally, a doctor emerges from the heavy door that separates the emergency room and waiting room. I rush towards them, my heart pounding in my chest. Gavin and a woman come through the main doors just as I ask the doctor, “Layne Larimore?”

The doctor’s expression is serious, but there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “She’s been stabilized. There doesn’t seem to be any damage, but we don’t know how long she was gone. We’re going to put her in a room upstairs and run some more tests. We’re just waiting for a bed. It was touch and go for a while, she crashed and we had to bring her back, but, she been stable for about forty-five minutes now.” He says, his voice filled with relief.

Tears of gratitude stream down my face as I thank the doctor profusely. “Give us a few more minutes and we’ll get you back up there with her. You’re lucky you pulled her out when you did and knew how to administer CPR properly.” He pats my shoulder, then walks back through the door.

I feel my body go limp and I drop, crying hard. Arms under my armpits catch me before I hit the floor. “She’s okay…breathe, Wessy. She’s alive.”

A nurse comes from around the corner. “Mr. Larimore?” She announces, scanning the room.

“He’s right here,” Gavin says, getting her attention. “Tell me what floor I need to take him to. ”

The nurse quickly glances at her clipboard before directing Gavin to the elevator. As we ascend to the designated floor, my mind races with a mix of emotions – relief, gratitude, and lingering fear. I hold on to a glimmer of hope, knowing that Layne is alive and being cared for, but the uncertainty of her condition continues to weigh heavily on me.

When the elevator doors open, Gavin leads me down a maze of sterile white hallways until we reach Layne’s room. The sight of her lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to various monitors and machines, both comforts and unsettles me. I approach her cautiously, afraid to disturb her fragile state.

I rush to Layne’s side, cradling her hand as she slowly wakes up. Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of exhaustion and resilience. “I’m still here, Wes,” she whispers weakly. “You saved me.”

I smile through my tears, overwhelmed with love and gratitude. “Yeah, Ma Petite Mort , I did. And I promise you, we’ll face whatever comes next together. You’re my everything, and I’ll never let you go.”

The hours turn into a blur as medical professionals come and go, running tests and adjusting medications. Each time a doctor enters the room, my heart skips a beat, desperately seeking any sign of progress. The waiting is agonizing, but I find solace in knowing that Layne is in capable hands.

Days blend together as Layne’s condition slowly improves. With each passing moment, my love for her deepens, and I am determined to cherish every precious second we have together. Layne’s strength gradually returns. We have to begin the arduous process of physical and emotional healing. We’ll navigate the challenges of therapy, leaning on each other for support. The near-tragedy has brought us closer together.