Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Come on, Ava. I need you to pull it together.
“Don’t close your eyes, Jesse.”
I’m trying, baby, but I’m tired. So fucking tired.
“Baby, keep your eyes open,” she snaps. “Look at me.”
Breathing is getting harder with each painful breath, even the lightest of inhales causing untold pain. “Ava . . .” Call an ambulance. “Ava . . .”
She hushes me, her tears falling and sinking into my shirt as she starts feeling around in my pocket. She pulls out my mobile, juggling it in her hands.
Calm down, Ava. Just calm down.
Fuck, I can’t keep my eyes open. But I can’t close them.
Because I’m terrified I’ll never see her again.
“I need an ambulance,” she yells, her panic making her words almost indecipherable. “Please, my husband’s been stabbed.” Her hand meets my chest, her eyes now just dark blurry dots. I’m losing her. “The penthouse. The code for the elevator is 3210. It’s the Lusso building on St. Katherine Docks. Please, he’s losing consciousness. He can’t talk. The blood, there’s so much.” Her voice cracks, and my heavy lids win, my eyes closing. “Please. Jesse, open your eyes,” Ava snaps, but for all the will in world, I don’t have the strength. “Don’t you dare leave me,” she yells, sobbing. “I’ll be crazy mad if you leave me.”
I can’t breathe. “I can’t b—” A wave of pain radiates through me, and I try to harden my body to stem it. Focus on breathing. I must keep breathing.
“Jesse!”
I fight with everything I have, use energy I can’t afford to lose, to open my eyes. She’s blurry but clear. And isn’t that the poignancy of our story? Would it be too much to ask my body to grace me with one more touch too?
Yes.
Is this it? Have I had my time? My happiness? My moment?
My love?
It would seem unfair if it wasn’t so symbolic.
It was me or Ava. And it was always meant to be me.
I stare at her, hearing her talking but not understanding what she’s saying, hearing music but not really knowing what it is. Something I recognize. “Unbreakable,” I wheeze, getting heavier and heavier.
I’m done.
I close my eyes and freefall into my darkness, feeling an odd sense of peace filling my broken body.
Because I can leave this world knowing my wife and children will be safe from my tragedies.
46
“Stand back, coming through!”
Who the fuck is that?
“We have a thirty-eight-year-old white male, knife wound to his upper stomach, knife still lodged, lost a lot of blood, BP forty-five over thirty.”
I frown.
“We need to get him on the table. Stat. Prep surgery.” I feel hands on me, my body becoming light momentarily. Then I’m gagging, choking, something blocking my throat. Then beeps. Yells. Panic.
And then—
Nothing.
47
I inhale and take in my surroundings. Trees, grass, shrubs, water. I recognize it. The sun is blazing up above, the sky a vivid blue, a few fluffy clouds dotted around. No city noise, just tweeting birds and branches swaying in the gentle breeze.
It’s a perfect day.
I smile as I trudge down to the small barrier between the lake and the path, looking across the water to the island. Ducks, hundreds of them, bob on the surface, weaving perfect paths through the water, cute ducklings following them. It’s spring. My favorite season of the year. It’s the season I met my wife.
It’s just past seven in the evening. What the hell am I doing in the park at this time? She’ll be at home waiting for me.
I start walking up the path but slow to a gradual stop when I realize I don’t know where my car’s parked. “Fuck,” I curse, reaching into my pocket for my mobile. No phone. And as I gaze around the park, I realize it’s empty. At seven o’clock in the evening on a beautiful spring day?
I frown, my eyes dropping down my suited front, and some unknown, higher power has me reaching for my jacket. I pull back one side. “What the fuck?” I whisper, staring at the knife plunged in my side. I turn on the spot, my eyes darting, panic rising. But where’s the pain? There’s blood, so much fucking blood, but where’s the pain? I stagger a few paces forward, and then I see someone in the distance. A man with a child on his shoulders. They’re blurry, but definitely there. Help me.
But as they get closer, I realize he’s not a man.
He’s a young lad.
My brother.
“Jake?” I breathe, not nearly loud enough for him to hear me, but he hears, smiling back at me, getting closer while I stand stock-still, mesmerized by the sight of him. His floppy hair, the cheeky twinkle in his eye. I follow his arms up to the hands he’s holding either side of his face. Small, chubby hands. “Oh my God,” I whisper, meeting Rosie’s eyes.