Page 138 of Echoes of You

Pop. Pop. Pop. Another round of shots sounded.

My mind struggled to put the pieces of the scene around me into place, to make sense of it all. But I couldn’t.

Nash’s body pinned me to the ground. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t speaking.

The panic set in. “Nash?”

I struggled to get free of his weight, to see his face. Finally, I rolled us as one so that Nash was on his back. And that was when I saw it.

Blood.

So much of it that it covered his T-shirt, spreading out like a terrifying sea as the tide swept in. “Nash?” I croaked.

His eyes were closed, his face pale.

I pressed a hand to his cheek. Still warm. Still here.

“Wake up. You have to wake up.”

I didn’t know what to do. How long had it been since I’d taken a first-aid class? I couldn’t remember. Was I supposed to do chest compressions or rescue breaths? Both? I didn’t know.

“Nash, please.” My voice broke, shattering the way my soul was.

“Maddie!” Lawson barked, striding toward me.

Some part of me recognized that Dan was lying on the ground, not moving either.

“He’s shot. I-I—what do I do?” My hands trembled.

“The EMTs are on the way.” Lawson dropped to his knees and pressed a finger to the side of Nash’s neck. “Can you do the rescue breath?”

His voice was calm, but his eyes were anything but.

I nodded quickly.

“Breathe,” Lawson ordered.

I did as he instructed, pinching Nash’s nose and sealing my mouth to his. I pushed the oxygen from my lungs into his and then sat back.

Lawson locked his arms and pressed his palms down on Nash’s sternum. Each compression forced more blood from Nash’s chest. My tears started to fall, slipping over my eyes and down my cheeks.

“Breathe,” Lawson said.

I bent, closing my lips over Nash’s. The salt from my tears slipped into my mouth and his.Please.I prayed with my breath. I silently promised my life for his if God would intervene. I would give anything just to see those green eyes again.

Sirens sounded as Lawson started compressions once more. They grew closer with each pump of Nash’s chest.

“Breathe.”

I covered Nash’s mouth again, forcing my life into his body.

“Step back,” an EMT shouted as he ran toward us.

“There was no pulse,” Lawson said flatly.

The EMT pressed his fingers to Nash’s neck. “Defibrillator!” he yelled as he cut away Nash’s T-shirt.

There it was. A hole. Way too close to his heart. A wound because he’d dove in front of me.

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