Chapter 117 #35: I'll Never Forgive You
The gunshot cracks through the night like a whip, and for one frozen second everything stops. Vincent's arm jerks upward as the bullet slams into his shoulder, spinning him halfway around. The gun flies from his hand and clatters across the concrete. He staggers, clutching the wound, blood already soaking through his coat.
Marcus steps out of the shadows near the loading dock entrance with his pistol still raised and aimed at Vincent.
Vincent drops to one knee, gasping. "You... bastard..."
I don't hear the rest. My legs are already moving.
David is on his back with both hands pressed limply to his stomach. Dark blood is pooling beneath him, and spreading fast across the cracked pavement. His eyes are half-open but unfocused, chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths.
I skid to my knees beside him, pressing my hands to cover his, adding pressure to the wound. My palms are immediately met with slick wetness. Too much blood. Far too much.
"David." My voice cracks on his name. "David, look at me."
His gaze drifts toward me slowly. Recognition flickers, then fades again. His lips part but no sound comes out.
I press harder against the wound, trying to hold everything inside him that wants to leave, but it’s not enough. The blood is coming relentlessly, soaking my sleeves, staining the front of my dress, and smearing across my thighs where I'm kneeling in the growing puddle.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no. You don't get to do this. You promised. You promised you'd come back before dinner."
His fingers twitch against mine weakly. I catch them, then lace our hands together over the mess of his abdomen. His skin is already too cold.
"Stay with me." The words come out ragged as I struggle to choke back a sob. "You hear me? You stay right here. Lucy needs you. I need you. We just got you back. You don't get to leave now."
I turn away and scream to Marcus. “Call a fucking ambulance!”
My eyes snap back to David's face. His eyelids flutter slightly and a thin line of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. I wipe it away with my thumb, smearing red across his cheek.
"David." My voice breaks completely this time. Tears blur everything. "Please. Please don't do this to me. I can't lose you too. Not like this. Not when we finally..."
I can't finish the sentence. The sob rips out of me instead.
Marcus is on the phone behind me, his voice low and urgent. "Gunshot wound, abdominal. Heavy bleeding. Pier 17, loading dock C. Need paramedics now. Victim is an adult male, mid-thirties. Still conscious but fading fast."
I barely register the words. All I can see is David's face growing paler, the way his breathing has turned shallow and wet. Every rise of his chest feels like it's costing him more than he has left.
I lean down until my forehead rests against his. Our joined hands are trapped between us, slippery with blood.
"You promised," I whisper against his lips. "You promised you'd make up for the years we lost. You promised you'd never leave me alone again. You promised you'd bring our daughter home to me. Please don't make me tell our daughter her father walked away when she needed him most."
A tear falls onto his cheek. He blinks once, slow, like even that small movement takes everything he has.
I press my mouth to his, tasting salt and copper. "Fight," I beg against his lips. "Fight like you always made me fight. Fight for us. For her. For me. Please, David. Please."
His fingers squeeze mine once, the barest pressure, then go slack completely, and his head droops to the side, unconscious.
Bright and blinding panic surges through me.
"David!" I shake his shoulder with my free hand. "David, no. No. Open your eyes. Look at me!"
Marcus drops to his knees on David's other side, pressing both hands over mine, adding pressure. "Ambulance is three minutes out. Hold the wound. Keep talking to him."
Three minutes feels like three lifetimes.
I keep talking anyway, words tumbling over each other, half-coherent, half-desperate as I desperately hope he can even hear.
"You remember the first time you kissed me in your apartment?” I say to his unconscious frame. "It was right after that late meeting when everyone else had gone home? You locked the door and pushed me against your desk and told me you'd wanted to do that since the day you hired me. You remember how I laughed and told you that was highly inappropriate for a boss? And you said you didn't care because you were going to marry me anyway?"
His chest stutters under our hands.
"You did marry me," I continue, my voice cracking. "And then you broke my heart and I broke yours too but we both survived it. We survived worse than this. You survived losing me for five years. I survived losing our son. We can survive this too. We have to. Because Lucy needs both of us. She needs her father to teach her how to sail and her mother to teach her how to fight. She needs us together. So you stay. You stay right here with me."
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder.
Marcus glances toward the sound. "They're close. Keep pressure."
I don't look away from David's face. His skin has gone grey. His breathing is barely there now, just shallow sips of air.
The ambulance screeches around the corner, lights flashing red and blue across the warehouse walls. Two paramedics jump out, bags in hand, already shouting questions.
"Gunshot to the lower abdomen," Marcus calls. "Heavy bleeding. Possible internal. He's been down about four minutes."
They drop beside us. One presses gloved hands over ours while the other starts an IV line in David's arm.
"Ma'am, we need space," the first paramedic says gently.
I don't move. I can’t. My legs seem to have their own plans for the night and betray me, staying still beside David. It isn’t until Marcus gently pulls me away that I can give them the space they asked for.
The paramedics work around me, cutting away David's shirt, packing the wound with gauze, starting fluids.
"BP's crashing," one mutters. "We need to move him now."
They slide a backboard under him. I finally let go of his hand long enough for them to secure straps, but I keep my fingers tangled in his as they lift him.
Only one family member is allowed in the ambulance.
"I'm his wife," I say. The lie comes out steady even though nothing else about me is. "I'm not leaving him."
Luckily, no one contradicts me – not that I’d let them anyway. They let me climb in beside the stretcher and the doors slam shut. The siren starts immediately.
Inside the ambulance it's brighter, sterile, chaotic in the most controlled way. Monitors beep. The paramedic works fast, adjusting oxygen, checking lines.
David's head lolls toward me. His eyes are closed now.
I lean over him, brushing sweat-damp hair off his forehead.
"You fight, David Reid,” I whisper fiercely. "You fight like hell. Because if you die on me I swear I'll never forgive you."
The paramedic glances at me but says nothing.
I keep my hand wrapped around David's the entire ride, counting each shallow breath, willing each one to keep coming.
The hospital doors burst open the moment we arrive. A trauma team is already waiting. They wheel him straight through, shouting stats and orders.
I try to follow.
A nurse gently blocks me at the double doors to the OR corridor.
"Ma'am, you need to wait here. We'll update you as soon as we can."
I plant my feet. "But he needs me.”
"I understand. But right now the best thing you can do for him is let us work. There's a waiting area just down the hall. We'll come find you."
I want to scream. I want to shove past her and run after the gurney disappearing through those doors. But I know she's right.
I let her guide me to the chairs outside the OR. I hate the way the hallway smells like antiseptic and worry, but I ignore it as I sink onto the nearest seat, my hands still stained with David's blood. It has dried in dark streaks up my forearms.
Marcus and Sel appear moments later, breathing hard like they ran the whole way from the parking lot.
Sel drops beside me first, pulling me into her arms without a word. I let her hold me because if she lets go I might shatter completely.
Marcus stands in front of us with his arms crossed and face grim. "Any word?"
"Not yet," I manage. "They're... they're working on him."
Sel strokes my hair. "He's strong. He's going to pull through."
I want to believe her. I need to believe her.
Footsteps approach from the other direction. I look up to see Dr. Fischer walking past us with a chart in hand. She spots me, recognition flashing through her features, and changes course, now walking towards us.
"Mrs. Calder," she says quietly. "I was just about to call you."
My heart stutters. "Is it Lucy?"
She nods, her expression softening slightly. "We have good news. A match has been found for the bone marrow transplant. We've scheduled the procedure for next Wednesday."
“Oh, thank God!” I say as relief crashes over me so hard I almost laugh. "You found a match already?"
"Yes. A very strong one, actually. We've already began making arrangements to contact the donor to begin prepping."
I start to stand. "I can't wait to tell David–"
Dr. Fischer's next words stop me cold.
"The donor is Mr. David Reid."
Everything stops.
I stare at her. "What?"
"He's listed as family on Lucy's records from her birth. The registry pulled him as a potential match and the preliminary tests confirmed it. We've reached out to his medical proxy to obtain consent, and once he signs off on it, you can bring Lucy in for us to begin prep....”
She's still speaking but in my head, her voice begins to trail off as everything begins crashing down on me at once.
My head is swimming. David as a match. David is surgery. Surgery scheduled for next Wednesday. Lucy missing.
Today is Saturday.
Four days.
We have four days to find Lucy, get her back, and somehow get her prepped for surgery while David is fighting for his life in there.
The hallway tilts and I quickly grip the arm of the chair to keep from sliding off it.
Sel's arm tightens around my shoulders. Marcus swears under his breath.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Calder?” Dr. Fischer asks, touching my arm gently. "Is there a problem?”
“No problem doctor,” I hear Sel say beside me. “We will be in touch.”
The doctor smiles and walks away.
I stare at the double doors where they took David through.
Four days.
My daughter needs a transplant in four days.
The man who can save her is bleeding out on an operating table because he tried to save her. And I am sitting here with his blood on my hands and no idea where to start.
I don’t think things could possibly get any worse at this point.
Just as the thought leaves my head, the hallway doors at the far end bang open and a voice I haven't heard in five years slices through the quiet of the hospital waiting area.
"Nora Ellis, what the hell did you do to my son?!"
I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear Elaine Reid stomp her heels through the hallway and towards me. With all that’s happening, Elaine's drama is the last thing I need right now.
But apparently the universe isn't finished with me yet.