Commander

by Kristy Marie

  I want to rage that Tim should have put it on him instead of leaving it on the bed. Theo has no idea how to put on a Kevlar vest properly. But I don’t because Tim was right in his assumption: Theo never does as he’s told and something was better than nothing.

  I pull at the seams of Theo’s shirt; the damn thing is triple stitched, making it hard to tear. After a desperate scream and adrenaline rushing my veins, I make a small rip, giving me a starting point to tear it the rest of the way. “Theo,” I choke. “I need to roll you over and see if the bullet went through.”

  I already know it didn’t but there’s no shame in hope. Theo doesn’t respond, his breathing is very shallow, giving me a sense of impending doom.

  “Keep breathing,” I encourage him while I roll his shoulder, confirming that the bullet is still lodged in his beautiful chest.

  Tears prick my eyes. I will not cry!

  Sniffling, I scream at Nicole to go find Cade and call an ambulance.

  “I’ll be fine,” Theo whispers painfully.

  His patronizing only pisses me off. “You’re damn right, you’ll be fine. Keep breathing!” My voice cracks. “You will not die on me! Do you fucking hear me?” There’s no holding back the fat tears running down my cheeks. “You will not die for me!” I sound like a lunatic screaming out demands.

  Theo twines his fingers with mine, interlacing our bloodied hands. “It’s Thursday. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  His terrible timing for a joke makes my throat squeeze closed. I can’t laugh, I can only clutch his paling form as uncontrolled sobs wrack my body. This can’t be it for us. We don’t have enough memories. Don’t take him from me!

  I begin to rock, anything to soothe him and myself, bring comfort when there’s nothing but fear. Theo grunts, his hand tightening in mine.

  “Stay with me,” I beg.

  He squeezes my hand again. “I’m with you, Ans. Always.”

  My heart sputters at his confession, his voice stirring bits and pieces of broken memories. Visions of our first Christmas in our apartment. The puny tree we put up, decorated with the earrings left behind from all Theo’s one-night stands. Our first time at the fair, when his clown fear was revealed. The way he wakes in the morning, rumpled and sleepily, whining that it doesn’t rain enough. The way he tells me he loves me when he thinks I’m asleep.

  “Hurry up!” I shout into the open air.

  Cade comes running, his eyes jumping everywhere before finally landing on me. “The barn is secure. Lou is dead.”

  I look at him, defeated. “I need help.” A pained cry rips through my chapped lips. “Theo needs help.”

  Cade kneels next to me, his green eyes flickering over Theo’s limp body. He swallows thickly and very bluntly says, “Then help him, Dr. McCallister.”

  Later, I will realize that rude comment saved Theo’s life. I wipe off my tears, pull my shit together and act like the badass doctor I am.

  “We got the stuff,” Lawson shouts. All five of my boys run to me with their hampers full of medical supplies. My eyes well again with salty tears. You will not cry.

  “Anniston.” Cade shakes my arm, grabbing my attention. “What do we need to do?”

  I gaze into his confident eyes that tell me I can do anything. That these men, these heroes trust me to save Theo’s life. I can feel myself growing taller, more confident by the second. These men believe in me. I am surrounded by family. I can do this!

  “I need dressings. We need to stop the bleeding,” I say to all of them.

  “On it,” Hayes responds, dumping out his hamper.

  “Scissors. Someone cut off his shirt.”

  “Got it,” Vic replies. He cuts Theo’s shirt carefully. “Commander,” he says with unease. “I think we need to hurry.”

  I look at Theo, who is gasping for air. “I need the intubation kit!” I scream.

  In med school, you are taught to remain calm but no one taught me how to do that when it’s Theo struggling to breathe. My hands are a shaking mess. My cerebral palsy only flares when stress is heavy. Right now, I am on the verge of a breakdown. I take a deep breath, forcing my lungs to expand. You can do this. Theo needs you.

  I tighten the muscles in my forearms, controlling them. The nerves jump but I have a better handle on the shaking by the time Cade tosses me the intubation kit. I crack it open, ripping off the protective plastic and move closer, nestling Theo’s head between my knees.

  I look at Hayes and Cade one more time for reassurance. “I need you to hold him down.”

  They nod, both pushing down on his shoulders without question.

  As calmly as I can, I whisper to the boy who holds my heart in his hands, “I’m going to put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. It’s going to feel weird and you’re going to want to pull it out, but I need you to resist the urge and relax. Okay?”

  His tired eyes relay his understanding. It’s getting harder for him to breathe. I need to do this quickly.

  Tilting his head back, I grab the tube and ease it into his mouth. He gags and tries to flinch away but we hold him tight. “Try to relax,” I repeat, continuing to use pressure and move the tube. This has to be done. I can’t sedate him, not in these conditions. He can handle this. He’s strong.

  I visualize his trachea, minding his vocal chords, as I thread the tube delicately through his airway. He flails and Hayes and Cade grunt as they keep him restrained.

  “I know, I know. Think of something else. Think of something fun. Like, getting blow jobs.” Cade chuckles beside me as I remove the guide wire and scope after verifying proper placement of the breathing tube.

  Theo settles down a bit but strains to free his hands.

  “We need to keep this tube in for a little while,” I explain, taping the excess tubing to his cheek. He grunts and tries to talk before I shush him. “Don’t talk. It will only damage your vocal chords.”

  This factoid seems to stop his fighting more than anything else. He still flexes his arms and struggles against the guys. He’s never been one to like restraints.

  Releasing his head, I move back to his chest where the angry hole mocks me. Vic hands me some gauze before I have to ask.

  “Tim. Grab that bag there. Place it on the tube in Theo’s mouth and squeeze it in rhythm with your breaths.” Tim looks at me like he might upchuck his dinner, but he manages to push down his revulsion and gives me a curt nod before getting to work.

  I watch him for a second, making sure he is doing it properly. When I see Theo’s chest rise higher, I wink, and tell him to keep it up.

  I ask for some antiseptic next, which appears in my hand in seconds.

  “This is going to sting, baby,” I tell Theo, right as I douse his chest in the cold liquid.

  He bows off the ground, unnatural noises coming from his throat. A sharp pain hits me in the center of my chest, almost like his pain is becoming mine. I can’t stand that I am inflicting more pain when he is already enduring so much.

  The guys push Theo back down and tell him to hang in there. Even Cade.

  His chest wound is bubbling frothy liquid. Not a good sign. His lung is collapsing.

  “Keep bagging him, Tim.” I jump up, digging through the hampers of medical supplies.

  “What do you need, Commander?” I ignore Lawson and continue my search. Finally, I find a needle that will suffice for what needs to be done.

  I fall back by Theo’s side. “This is going to hurt, love,” I warn him with a sweet caress to his face.

  He groans and scrunches his eyes as a wave of pain courses through him.

  With two fingers, I feel along his ribs until I reach my intended mark.

  “Deep breath,” I tell him just as I stab the needle in between his ribs.

  He thrashes against his captors, moaning. Hayes turns his head, looking a little green. Only Cade holds my eyes, urging me to continue. I tape up the wound and the new chest tube at an efficient pace. He’s going to need a shit-ton of antibiotics after
this, but he’s alive and right now, he’s stable. And that’s all that counts.

  “All done, baby,” I soothe. Moving to his head, I stroke his forehead and breathe with him. I start talking about random things, something Theo does when the silence becomes too much. “Six thousand, four hundred, and eighty. That’s how many strikeouts you have had in your professional career. Five thousand, eight hundred and eighty is how many innings I have watched you pitch.”

  Every game, whether on the bench or in front of the TV.

  I. Was. There.

  Cheering for him. Coaching him. Loving him.

  I begin weaving my hands through his thick waves, allowing the strands to slide between my fingers. I find comfort in the normality of the repetition.

  “Three thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-nine. That is how many days I have known I love you.” Sniffling, I bend down, place a salty kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tries to speak around the tube but I shush him sweetly. “Zero is the amount of days I am spending without you. We’re going to get through this. And when we do, I plan on kicking your ass as soon as you’re healed.”

  He grunts, attempting to laugh. It’s a pitiful sound and makes me squeeze his hand harder like that alone is going to keep him with me forever.

  Minutes pass then, finally, red and blue lights blaze down the gravel driveway, coming to our rescue.

  The medics take no time to strap Theo to a gurney. I stay beside him while the medics take over bagging him. Theo’s eyes are closed, making me even more nervous. I just want to get to the hospital as fast as humanly possible.

  I pile in behind the two medics, containing myself from barking orders. I am not the one in charge here. I did all I could but time seems to be moving like syrup when Theo puts it in the refrigerator. Tears sting my eyes as the memory of the syrup argument plays in my head. My thoughts are all messed up when I look at Cade standing outside the doors.

  “We’ll be right behind you.”

  A lone tear falls down my face, melting into my bloodied shirt. The medic slams the door, the impact startling me. My nerves are completely shot. Is this how the guys feel when they hear fireworks on the Fourth of July? If so, we are going to vacation every year in the Caribbean so they will be away from it all.

  “Go, go, go!” Someone taps on the side of the van, signaling we’re ready.

  The younger medic is at my side as the ambulance lurches forward. He begins inserting a line in Theo’s arm, quizzing me about any allergies, etc. I sound unsure in my answers, my mind racing through all the events that just transpired. I was prepared to die for my boys.

  Lou shot Theo.

  My hands shake more now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

  “Are you a doctor?”

  I pull my eyes from Theo’s chest, locking onto the older gentleman who looks like he’s nearing retirement age. “Ye—” I clear my throat, pushing down the tears. “Yes, I’m his physician.”

  He nods, looking Theo over one more time like he’s trying to figure out who this celebrity is with his own private physician. “Did you intubate him?”

  I nod, more tears threatening to fall. My hands are shaking so bad, they remind me of that damn chihuahua Theo’s mom had when we were young. Before I can get it under control, Theo reaches for me, his big hand enveloping my small one.

  Sniffing, I squeeze it back. He mumbles something around his breathing tube. His hand is heavy as his strength wanes but he manages to brush against my knuckles, and I know he’s attempting to comfort me when he’s hanging on by a thread.

  “Don’t do that,” I sob. “Don’t comfort me.”

  He doesn’t try to speak again; he only rubs… until he doesn’t.

  The heart monitor pierces the silence. It takes me a second to realize what’s happening. His chest has stopped moving.

  “He’s coding! Get the paddles,” the medic behind me orders.

  “No!” I’m on my feet, squeezing his Ambu bag, giving his lungs the oxygen they need. The older medic is giving chest compressions while the other readies the paddles. When he asks us to step aside, I freeze. I know they need to get to him. I know this. It’s totally illogical that I, a doctor, would hesitate now, but this is my Theo. This is my person. If he dies right here on this gurney, I want to be holding his hand. I want him to know I am here, that he isn’t alone.

  “Miss.”

  I level the young medic holding the paddles with a fierce look. “You bring him back.”

  He nods, pushing me out of his way. I go easily this time, taking a seat in one the chairs alongside the wall of the ambulance.

  “Clear!”

  I flinch at the sizzling noise as they hit him with the first shock. My hands go to my hair as he yells “clear” again.

  That’s not good. The more shocks it takes the less likely they’ll get him back.

  Oh, God.

  “I got a pulse!”

  Immediately, I’m on my feet, relief coursing through me. I lunge to Theo’s side, taking his cool hand in mine. One of the guys is radioing the hospital, we aren’t far now. The other continues to bag Theo.

  Pulling his hand to my cheek, I selfishly snuggle in, taking every ounce of comfort from the steady sound of beeps coming from the monitor attached to his chest.

  “Almost there, baby. You’re gonna be okay.” My voice is garbled by tears, but at this point, I don’t even try to control them. I’m sure these medics have seen worse.

  Minutes tick by and Theo doesn’t squeeze my hand again. I try not to let the fear get the better of me.

  “We’re here,” the medic whispers softly so as not to startle me. “We need to take him. This is as far as you can go.”

  I nod my understanding as the doors swing open. Awaiting doctors and nurses rush to his side as they lower him to the ground. I watch as he disappears through the double doors, on his way to the operating room. His life in the hands of someone else.

  I don’t know how long I sit there in the ambulance. Tears stream silently down my face. I want to scream but I won’t because Theo loves my scream and he isn’t here to hear it. I stomp my feet, kicking the bench, anything to get out the anger that has taken over. I pull my hair. I hurl bloody bandages until there is nothing left for me to throw and fall to the floor of the ambulance, every ounce of energy gone.

  As I lay, spent, against the cold metal, a flash of color underneath the seat catches my eye. Sliding across the littered floor, I reach under the chair and find… a piece of bubble gum.

  “Commander.”

  I raise my head slowly at the sound of Cade’s comforting voice. His strong shoulders are set, his eyes full of concern, full of pity, as he stares back at me.

  “Come. Let’s go inside.” His hand reaches out for me carefully, letting me know he’s there to help. It’s obvious he’s not sure where my head’s at.

  There’s some irony for you, Cade coaxing me out of a mental break.

  My chin quivers as I roll the gum around in my hand. “He loves gum. He always has a piece stashed somewhere.”

  Cade nods at my declaration, inching closer, and steps up into the back. “Come here, baby. The guys want to see that you’re okay.” Another step closer.

  I twist the ends on the gum, barely registering Cade’s movements. “He’ll want this when he gets out.”

  “Yes, he will. Come inside, we can wait for him together.” Cade’s hand closes over my hand clutching Theo’s gum.

  A whimper escapes my lips right before he envelops me in his strong arms. Right before I break down and scream into his shirt. I scream for me, I scream for Theo. And when my throat is too raw to make another sound, I cry big, heavy, ugly, silent sobs.

  It’s then Cade scoops me up, carrying me out of the van and into the waiting room where all my guys rush us, enveloping my entire body with theirs.

  Comforting me.

  Loving me.

  Killer is steadily barking at the grill like something is going to jump off and land in her s
lobbery mouth. The aroma of charcoal is making my mouth water, too, so I can’t blame a girl for trying.

  Seriously, whose idea was it to start the grill while we played a few innings of baseball outside, in the scorching-ass heat? Theo’s, that’s who. He started in with his dinner request at seven this morning. His order of ribs, potato salad, and baked beans was popped off in rapid sequence.

  I shouldn’t encourage his newly relaxed diet, and throw on a chicken breast instead, but I do. I promised to treat him more like a boyfriend instead of an athlete. But he’s no longer an athlete.

  Theo Von Bremen officially retired this season.

  It wasn’t a hard decision since he wanted to quit for some time. Thad and I wanted him to succeed so badly that we forgot about what he wanted.

  We sold it to the press like his arm was no good after the incident, but in fact, it was better than ever. The bullet hit his lung, and after being on pins and needles while he was in the operating room for six hours, he pulled through. I, however, was a complete train wreck for three solid weeks.

  For the first time in the history of being the commander, I broke down at Cade’s feet in a heaving mess. When he carried me to the waiting room, the guys huddling all around, so many things went through my head. Would I ever be happy without Theo in my life? Would the guys leave me?

  So many unanswered questions.

  I was a fucked-up mess, sobbing in the arms of six burly men. I’m sure the rumor mill in Madison was abuzz.

  Theo was transferred to the ICU when he came out of surgery. I was hell on wheels, to say the least. I was barking orders, checking medicines, anything and everything to give me a sense of control.

  Cade, the sweet asshole he is, ended up slipping a sleeping pill into my coffee, and I finally slept until my boy awoke, bitching about the uncomfortable mattress. I had to pull some strings but all of us were able to stay together, sleeping in that tiny space of a room for a whole week until Theo was moved to a transitional unit.

  Those long-ass days were filled with jokes and laughter and fitful sleep. It was a close call and one I hope we never have to live through again.