Page 6 of Every Chance After

“Yeah, um, me, too,” I say because, weirdly, it’s true.

“Triscuit’s been scratching her ears lately,” she sputters faintly.

“What’s Triscuit… besides a cracker?”

“A cat. I have three.” Pain etches her face, and her eyes flicker again.

“Marina! Stay awake for me, and I’ll do a house call,” I say as if I can bribe her into staying alive. I don’t know what else to do.

“Keep talking to her, Tripp,” Christie says, still holding her legs in his lap.

“Here.” Wade slaps the clamp into my hand.

“Douse it in the vodka,” I order.

He spills what’s left of Christie’s flask onto the device and hands it over.

I say, “Marina, tell me more about your cats.”

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak.

Hovering over her, her blood pumping lightly against my fingertips, I apply the clamp, wedging it tightly inside her as she yelps in agony. There’s no way I’ll be able to source the second bleed—not without causing her unbearable pain and probably more damage.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Marina. So sorry,” I cry out the words, though I know they don’t matter. With the clamp holding the bleed, I shift around to her head, easing her into my lap. “Wade, keep applying pressure.”

He does as instructed, gently pressing more paper towels against the area around the clamp.

Her eyes blink slowly as she watches me. She looks eerily peaceful, lying against my thigh—desperately peaceful—and I hate it.

“Stay with me, Marina.” I hold her against my chest and find her hand. It’s disturbingly clammy as I search for her pulse. Her skin drains of color. Even her freckles go pale. Her hand curls into mine, soft and cold. I hold it gently. “Please,” I beg. “Don’t leave me.”

“Tripp. Grady Tripp.” She smiles, blue eyes glassy and drooping like flower petals weighed down with rain. “You always seem so sad. Don’t be sad. It’s like you have a million thoughts but no one to tell them to.”

My throat closes like her words are allergens. “Um, not true.” My voice cracks with fear and sadness. If I lose her, I’ll lose me, too, even if I’m still here. “Um, my dogs are excellent listeners.”

She laughs, but it comes out garbled. I expect blood to trickle from her lips.She’s dying. She’s dying, and I killed her.

“Hang on for me,” I beg, as police cars position around the accident and the ambulance finally appears. “Marina, please.”

She gives me a look like she wants to stay, but her fingers go limp inside mine, and her eyes close, shutting me out.

CHAPTERTWO

Marnie

“Marina, stay with me.”

His words snap me awake again.

The sky behind him is the color of a Morpho butterfly—bright blue, cloudless, beautiful. It’s the perfect day.Why did it have to be so perfect?I’ve never seen a Morpho butterfly in person, but Wren Christie, my cashier protégé at Sunny’s Beach Market, has a tattoo of one on her left calf. Their blue wings are scaled in real life, making them iridescent. They shimmer at different angles, depending on how you look at them.

Tattoos adorn the arms of the man hovering over me, but he moves so quickly that it’s hard to make them out. A thick, dark line of pine trees on his right forearm is all I can decipher. It matches the tree-tops overhead, like a black-and-white comic book version of the real thing. Sun glimmers through their spiky branches like a disco ball, flickering softly in my eyes with an easy breeze.

It’s so incredibly peaceful here. I slip into the peacefulness, wanting so badly to stay there. Let it take me.

“Marina!”

---