Page 90 of Tango
But it feels like it is.
I close my eyes and hang my head low, doing what I can to breathe.
Tommy squeezes my hand again then stands.
I feel so cold.
“Hey, Ali.”
I open my eyes, surprised to see my dad kneeling in front of me, my mom in the seat Dylan was in moments ago. Seeing them brings tears, and I crumble. He brushes some of my hair behind my ear. I know he’s likely angry, looking at the bruises on my face, but he doesn’t ask about them.
The pain in my chest intensifies when I watch Lani turn toward us, a broken expression on her face, as I cling to my coffee cup like a lifeline. “He can’t die, Dad.”
“I know, honey.” When I wrap my arms around him, he pulls me into his familiar embrace. My mom gently rubs my shoulders. I hold on to them, the cup of coffee the only warmth I’m feeling.
“He coded on the operating table,” Lani tells us.
“Oh, God. No.” Ruth leans into Tommy, and he wraps his arms around her.
“They were able to reestablish rhythm, but he’s not out of the woods just yet,” she says. “We need to pray—hard. Because if Tucker is going to survive, he needs a miracle.”
Chapter 31
Tucker
They tell me I died.
More than once.
The doctor says he’s not even sure how I’m still alive. That, for all intents and purposes, I should be with the Lord right now.
It’s a miracle, they keep saying. But they don’t know the half of it. I saw death. In those brief moments when my heart was not beating, I felt the warm embrace, the gentle peace that settled around me. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Even now, it feels like a dream rather than something I experienced while my heart was stopped.
Then I was ripped back into the now. Into pain and darkness. But I will thank God for that every single day. Because it means my time isn’t over yet. Barely awake, I lie in a hospital bed with a cannula beneath my nose. I’m exhausted and surrounded by the beeping sounds of a machine in the background and the oxygen being pumped into my nose, filling my lungs.
The door opens, and Lani walks in alongside my mother.
My mom covers her mouth on a sob then walks around to gently caress my forehead just like she used to do when I was a kid and sick.
“I thought I told you guys to stop getting shot,” Lani says, tears in her eyes.
“First time for me, remember?” I choke out. My throat is so dry, but it feels good to speak. “Alice?”
“She’s fine. In the waiting room. Doctor said you can only have two visitors at a time, and she told Mom and me to go first.” Lani reaches down and takes my hand.
Knowing Alice is okay and close by eases that gnawing fear I’ve had since waking up. “She’s okay,” I repeat, closing my eyes.
“I wouldn’t say okay,” Lani says.
“What do you mean?” I open my eyes, my heart rate increasing to the point that an alert sounds on the monitor. I know she’d been hurt when Darren hit her. Did he do more damage than I thought? Did Ramiro hurt her after I lost consciousness?
Lani releases my hand to turn the alarm off on the machine. “Calm down. You’re not out of the woods yet.” She takes a deep breath. “Physically, she’s fine. She’s a mess, worried about you.”
I recall how she’d clung to me as I slipped away. Her frantic cries. Her pleas with God to save me. Pain blooms in my chest. I raise an arm and gently rub my free hand against it.
“How are you feeling?” my mom asks.
“Tired. Kind of out of it.”
