Page 97 of Private Exhibit
Andy leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a heavy sigh of contentment.
Rapid footsteps thundered from the direction of his bedroom. “Doc!” Oliver screamed.
Andy was on his feet and running to meet him, heart racing with anticipation before his brain really had a chance to catch up.
Something was very wrong.
Andy met Oliver in the hallway, nearly colliding with the boy. All it took was a glance at Oliver's face to know what the boy wasabout to say. Andy shoved past him and made a beeline for his bedroom.
He lurched to a stop in the doorway. His perfect, beautiful boy lay on the floor, limbs splayed and twisted at awkward angles. Devon's gaze was empty, and his body wasn't moving. Not even to breathe.
“Devon!” Andy threw himself on the floor and rolled Devon onto his back. He found himself staring down at the boy, completely lost as to what to do. Twenty years of experience fled his mind in the wake of his panic.
“He's not breathing,” Oliver gasped, rapidly shifting his weight from one foot to another.
“Devon?” Andy panted. He touched Devon's face, then somehow managed to remember to check for a pulse. Andy pressed his fingers to Devon's throat. Then snatched up his wrist. He even wedged a hand into Devon's groin to check the femoral.
But there was no pulse. No nothing.
“No,” Andy gasped, slamming his hands down on Devon's chest. “Come on,” he begged, frantically doing chest compressions, needing to get Devon's heart started again. He knew the effort was probably useless. If the nerves had failed and a signal couldn't get through, nothing he did would matter. Still, he had to try.
“Come on, Devon. Fight, sweetheart. Come back.”Don't leave me. Gods, please. Not now.
Oliver choked out a sob. “Do something,” he begged.
I'm trying!Andy thought, screaming the words in his mind while he panted, frantically trying to bring Devon back. He kept up the chest compressions while he rapidly scanned the room. There was no sign of a ghost yet. Maybe Devon hadn't left his body. Maybe there was still a chance.
“Doc,” Oliver sobbed. “Shit. I'm calling emergency services.”
Andy almost protested, knowing he couldn't rely on anyone else. Knowing they'd never get there in time.
He froze, sucking in a breath.Shit. Andy stared at Devon, trembling with indecision. He had to fix this, but he knew, deep down, that he couldn't. Not there. And not without help.
Andy shot to his feet and raced back to the living room, frantically searching for his phone. It was on the floor right where he must have dropped it when he ran out. Andy snatched it up with shaky hands, found Hayden's number, and started a call as he sprinted back to his bedroom.
The ringing stopped as the call connected. Before Andy could say anything, he heard Hayden frantically ask, “What room?”
Andy panted. “Master bedroom.”
The call cut out.
Andy pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen. “Damn it.” He started to dial again when his phone buzzed in his hands while the overhead lights flickered and flashed.
Hayden appeared in the doorway, spotted them, and ran over. “Pick him up,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Pick him up!” Hayden shouted.
Andy gathered Devon up in his arms.
Hayden threw himself on the floor, wrapped his arms around them both, and squeezed his eyes shut.
Andy felt his whole body lurch, everything seeming to tilt and swirl around him. His stomach twisted, and for a moment, he was sure he was going to be sick.
When he opened his eyes, he no longer saw his bedroom.
They were right in the midst of the E.R.
