Finding Us

by S. K. Hartley

  My eyes roamed my body, searching for a bullet wound, but all I could see was red. My top was soaked; it clung to my abdomen like a second skin, but I still couldn’t find a bullet wound. Where the hell was all the blood coming from?

  “Low.”

  Oh fuck no. I was on quickly on my knees, crawling over to the painful groan that would forever be imprinted in my mind.

  There was blood everywhere. Everywhere I turned it was there, mocking me. The puddle grew by the second, wrapping around my jeans like a liquid blanket, scaring the ever loving shit out of me. My head throbbed as I finally registered everything that had happened.

  “Nooooooooooo! Tate! Tate, stay with me, baby!” I cried.

  I was suddenly frantic. I didn’t care what was going on behind me, all I cared about was stopping the flow of blood that poured from Tate. My hands were everywhere, trying to find the source. My hands stopped on his abdomen as they brushed a large hole. No! He had been shot in the stomach: this could kill him.

  Gripping his shirt collar, I pulled, hard, ripping the shirt straight down the middle, exposing the nightmare that had become my reality. My thoughts and movements had become robotic. One palm down, the other on top. Tense. Press. Hold. Blood poured between my fingers, covering my skin in its deep red hue.

  “Low, I can’t breathe.”

  Blood. It was everywhere: every part of my skin had been saturated in it, his body completely drowned in it. A mixture of fear and fury overcame me. I knew someone was going to die today, but for the life of me I didn’t think it would be Tate. There was a good chance he may not survive this, and the pain of that cut so, so deep.

  I went into a blind panic. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to stop the never ending flow of blood. I knew that if I didn’t stop it he was going to bleed out underneath my fingers. Nothing I was doing was stopping the bleeding. Keeping one hand on the wound, I ripped my top from my body, balling it up and pressing it down hard on the area.

  I didn’t understand. What the hell had happened? The questions that had been swimming around in my mind fizzled out when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Leave me the fuck alone!” I screamed, throwing the person’s hand off, a strangled sob breaking through my lips.

  “Please, Tate. Please, please stay with me.” I cried.

  I watched as the color slowly drained from his face, as my body shook with sobs. I sobbed so hard I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t process what was going on all around me. All I could hear was muffled shouting, but all I could concentrate on was Tate: the way his body cooled under my touch, how his eyes had turned from vibrant green to brown to a smoky grey, how lifeless he had become underneath me.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too. God, I love you, baby. Please don’t leave me, please.”

  I begged. I begged for someone to help me, for someone to save him. But the words never came; they stuck in my throat alongside my heart, which shattered into so many pieces.

  “Look after her,” Tate said breathlessly.

  His hand, so weak and shaking from the pain he was clearly facing, slowly pressed against the flesh of my cheek.

  “Look after her,” he repeated, his voice just a gentle caress against my aching soul.

  “Always,” Jace whispered. “Always.”

  “Please!” I cried, desperately trying to keep him talking, to keep him with me for as long as possible.

  “Strong.” He coughed, blood splattering from his lips. “Strong. Stubborn.”

  A gut-wrenching sob broke the confines of my lips, echoing in the room around us. It was just us: Tate and me. I wondered, I wondered for a fleeting second, what our future would look like, would we get married? Would we have children? If our little miniatures would look like him; would our children be as fierce in protecting? Would they have the smile could build you up as quickly as you fell down? Would they have his eyes, ones that could tell a thousand secrets but hold a hundred fears? Would they be so much like him I couldn’t take my eyes from them?

  Suddenly, I was being ripped away, physically and emotionally. I was dying inside as the love of my life was dying in front of my eyes. Hands clutched around my waist and pulled me from the ground, taking me away from the heartbreaking scene that laid in a pool of blood on the floor.

  “No. Please. I need to be with him! Let me go!” I screamed, punching and kicking as I tried to scramble back to Tate. It was no use. I wasn’t strong enough.

  I was cold, so cold that I flinched when I finally registered the warm hands that surrounded my abdomen. I didn’t want those hands on me. I wanted his, I wanted him to hold me and never let go. I tried to scramble away once more, trying to get back to the man who had irreversibly changed my life with just a kiss.

  “Low, calm down. Let them do their job.”

  The whisper was so low that it caught me off guard. It was Jace. What did he mean, let them do their job? Let who do their job? I didn’t understand, nothing made sense.

  “Look,” Jace whispered in my ear as he held me tight against his chest.

  For the first time since I can remember getting to the Manor, I truly opened my eyes. The scene around us had completely changed from being hell in a room to a nightmare come true. On the floor was Tate, lying in a pool of blood, surrounded by paramedics trying to save him. The room was quiet, the only sounds audible were the paramedics’ hushed voices. My father was nowhere to be seen, nor were his disgusting minions. It was as if they hadn’t been here in the first place.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered. “How did this happen?”

  “He was going to shoot you, Low. But, before anyone could even blink, Tate jumped in front of you and took the bullet. Low, we are trained killers, masterminds of the criminal world. But Tate? Tate saw it coming before any of us did, and didn’t once hesitate. His love for you took over, and his primal instincts told him what to do. He took the bullet that was meant for you.”

  Oh my god.

  “Jace, he’s dying,” I whispered, the truth of my words sending pain straight through my chest.

  I watched as pain morphed across Jace’s usually hard face; it was there, for the smallest of seconds, it was there.

  “He’s stronger than you give him credit for, babe.”

  Suddenly, the silence of the room disappeared, in it’s place were loud voices barking orders, machines beeping wildly, and the jolt of another machine.

  “We need to move, now!”

  My head spun, my heart broke, and my soul was destroyed as I watched Tate flatline on the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  White walls. Grey floor. Green seats. That was what I had been staring at for the past hour, the hour of absolute hell. I paced the floor. Sitting down made me want to vomit from my overactive nerves. My stomach flipped and rolled with every tick of the clock that seemed to be overly loud, while my hands shook so hard I thought they would never settle again.

  It was just me in a lonely corridor, waiting, wondering what the hell was happening. The love of my life was hanging on by a thread while I was crumbling into tiny little pieces, hoping within this dark hell there was a tiny glimmer of light, a glimmer of hope. For the first time, I hoped, and for the first time in a long time, I was being naïve.

  I had been handed doctor’s scrubs when I had arrived at the hospital, my clothes drenched in blood from the disaster at the Manor. I couldn’t help but look down at my hands, hands that had already been soaked in blood, spilled many years ago. Now they were soaked in blood for another reason. The deep crimson had dried and cracked against the creases of my skin, the blood staining my fingernails. No matter how hard I scrubbed, the blood was there; it was always there reminding me just how fragile life can be, how vulnerable we truly are.

  I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to stop the sob threatening to escape from the vision before me. I needed to get his blood off. I couldn’t have any more blood on my hands, physically or emotionally.
Before I could make a break for the bathroom, a large noise jolted me back a couple of steps. Running down the corridor was Logan, and before I could try and say a single word, I was pulled into a tight embrace.

  I couldn’t breathe, but I welcomed the winded feeling that overtook my chest. I held on with white knuckles to Logan’s shirt. The man I once didn’t trust was the man who would hold me up while I crumbled. The tears came thick and fast, sobs choking me without forgiveness. The walls I had built to protect me, to protect the people I loved, had come crashing down, smashing into ash and dust, leaving me exposed.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, he will be okay,” Logan whispered gently, but I could hear the uneasiness in his voice.

  He pulled my hands from his shirt and held them between our bodies, staring me straight in my tear-filled eyes.

  “He will get through this, we will get through this.” He sighed, pulling me back into the warm cove of his chest. “Jesus, Low, what happened?”

  I cried. I cried harder than I ever thought possible. My pain and fear melded with the tears staining my face, drying against my skin and leaving a permanent reminder of what had happened. The saying “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” rang through my head. I had lost the man who came into my life like a bulldozer, smashing his way through my walls, pulling away my mask and seeing me with fresh, nonjudgmental eyes. He truly saw me: the girl frightened for her life, unable to take the risk of getting to close, unable to settle for too long. He saw me. He loved me. He understood me.

  “My god, Low!” Neva cried, taking me from Logan and holding me tight in her arms.

  My god. What this could do to her… this could push back the progress she had made. What have I done? I looked into the eyes of the girl who had so many demons in her past, but so much fight in her eyes, eyes that were full of unshed tears, waiting to burst.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. I cringed. Those three little words were useless to convey what I felt.

  “It’s not your fault, Low. None of this is your fault. My god, Low, I can’t lose him,” she pleaded, her arms becoming tighter with every word she spoke.

  The minutes ticked by as Neva kept hold of me in a tight embrace, it was like a painful slow torture. Everyone had arrived—Neva, Logan, Zane, Colt, and Lorena—all holding pain-struck expressions on their faces. But there was one person missing, one person who had been right there when this mess had started. Jace. I had no idea where he’d gone. Everything that happened between the paramedics arriving and Tate being transferred to the trauma unit was a blur. But, right there, we were waiting. Wondering. Hoping. Until finally, hope walked right through the double doors.

  “Mrs. James?” the doctor asked gently.

  Lorena stood on shaky legs from the chair, gulping back the tears that threatened to come.

  “Y… Yes,” she stuttered.

  “Your son lost a lot of blood. He went into shock upon the paramedic’s arrival, going into cardiac arrest,” he said softly.

  I waited, waited for the blow I knew would come, waiting for him to say the words that would irreversibly change my life and all the people in it.

  “We managed to stabilize him, but the bullet was lodged in his large intestine, so we had to perform emergency surgery to remove it. He is stable, but critical. We should know more in a few days’ time when we can wake him from sedation.”

  My knees gave out, buckling under the weight that turned to lead within the minutes the doctor had been talking. I dropped, the solid ground slamming painfully against my knees. My hands shot out, my palms slapping against the grey floor with an angry thwack. Neva didn’t have a chance to even break my fall; she was as stunned as everyone else. As my breathing became erratic, the sobs hit me full force.

  He was alive.

  “Shit,” I breathed, panting as pain suddenly sliced right through me.

  “Low?” Neva whispered, placing her hand tentatively on my shoulder.

  I couldn’t answer. The pain pulsing through my veins rendered me completely speechless.

  “Low. Jesus, sweetie, look at me,” Neva begged, cupping my cheeks with her warm hands. “He’s okay, he got through it.”

  She didn’t understand. No one else understood. The pain I had endured as I watched Tate flatline was fierce, but the pain that was running through my body right now was completely consuming. Something was wrong.

  “Holy fuck!” I cried as another wave hit me again.

  “Out of the way!”

  From my position on the floor, I slowly looked up. Tears streamed down my face as I watched Jace glide down the corridor towards me. I was quickly in his arms as he carried me towards the doctor who, only moments before, gave us the news of Tate’s condition.

  “She needs a doctor,” he grunted.

  “What’s going on?” Zane asked behind us.

  “Bring her into the side room, I’ll have a colleague look at her,” the doctor instructed Jace.

  I nodded slowly, trying to hide behind Jace’s enormous chest. Another wave of pain sliced through my chest once more.

  “She’s in shock,” Colt whispered from somewhere in the room.

  I felt Jace tense against my body, his arms tightening around me.

  “You,” he said, turning to Colt, “shut the fuck up and grab that fucking door. If I hear any more stupid shit come out of that mouth of yours today, I will not only kick the living shit out of you, I will also shoot you in the god damn ass. Yes, she’s in shock. Now get the fuck over it so we can make sure she’s okay rather than pointing out the damn obvious.”

  If I wasn’t in so much pain I would have laughed at the large gulp Colt swallowed, but I was in pain. Heartbreaking pain that burned with every wave.

  “Down the corridor, first door on the left. Tell them Dr. Carter sent you from ICU!” the doctor shouted down the corridor as Jace carried me through the double doors.

  “You’ll be okay, babe,” he whispered.

  Would I? My father had been arrested for shooting Tate, almost killing him. I was in shock, my half-brother had been shot dead along with his sidekick and I still hadn’t gotten in touch with my mother, whom I shipped off to Vegas. Would everything really be fucking okay?

  “I need to see him,” I mumbled leaning my cheek against Jace’s hard chest.

  “He’s still in recovery. Let’s get you seen to first, then you can be with him. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I paused, I was too weak to argue with him. “Where were you?”

  “I … I.” He stopped, staring down at me. “It’s best I don’t tell you. You have enough to deal with.”

  “Oh, Jace, what have you done?” I whispered.

  “Nothing that wasn’t deserved.”

  Jace carried me the whole way to the small side room at the end of the corridor, pausing every time another wave of pain sliced through me. He stroked my hair, held me close, and whispered how everything would be okay. He was doing what Tate would do. He was protecting me, knowing that’s all Tate would want. Me, protected.

  I climbed into the unflattering gown once Jace carried me into the small room. He insisted on sitting outside, informing me he’d wait for me, cringing as he took in everything around us. He hated hospitals and the look of utter distaste on his face made me smile when all I really wanted to do was cry.

  I tied the gown at the back, even though I knew my ass was completely on show for all to see. Sitting down on the large hospital bed, I pulled my knees to my chest as if trying to regain some sort of control, control that was ripped from me so long ago.

  “Low Parker?” a cheery voice rang out as a petite young woman pulled back the curtain.

  Jace had told me to use my running name, just in case anything were to happen, there would be no evidence of a Willow Knoxx attending that hospital.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  The nurse smiled before motioning for me to lie down as she pulled out her stethoscope.

  “Dr. Carter has filled me in on today’s events,”
she said, pressing the cold metal against my chest. “You’ve been through a lot today, your body is just trying to process it all.”

  I nodded gently as she listened into my chest.

  “Do you still have chest pains?” she asked, her eyes locking with mine before moving the stethoscope to the valley between my breasts.

  I nodded again, the silence seeming to soothe my racing thoughts and my shaking limbs.

  “Okay,” she said, stepping back from me and placing the stethoscope around her neck. “You’re in shock, my love. There isn’t much we can do to fix the pain in your chest since there isn’t anything physically wrong. There’s no medication to fix a hurting heart.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, moving into a sitting position on the bed.

  “You can stay in here as long as you need to. If you start feeling faint, let me know so we can reassess you. Okay?” She smiled.

  I gave her a small smile and nodded my head tightly. I just wanted to get to Tate. I needed to get to Tate. The nurse left the room, leaving the door open behind her. Moments later Jace walked through the door, the door frame tiny in comparison to his large build.

  “How are you feeling, babe?” he asked, moving into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “I… I,” I stuttered. I grumbled before spitting out what I was trying to say. “I’m fine. I need to get to Tate.”

  “They’re still setting him up in ICU. Do you want to get some coffee while we wait?” he asked tentatively.

  My stomach rolled at the thought.

  “I don’t think I could stomach it.”

  “You’re going to have to try and eat something, even if it’s a small piece of the double chocolate cupcake I’ve been drooling over in the canteen.” He smiled, clearly trying to lift my mood. But there was no amount of chocolate or coffee in the world that would settle my racing thoughts and churning stomach.

  “I might vomit if I put any of those near my lips.” I sighed, pausing for a moment before asking the question I couldn’t get out of my mind. “What happened to my father?”