Page 139 of Almost Ours
Ryan was stronger, pinning him down, but Reid fought like a cornered animal. They rolled, colliding with the coffee table, knocking over the side table–glass shattering, wood splintering. The lamp crashed to the floor, plunging the room into flickering chaos.
Then I saw it.
The gun.
It lay on the ground, forgotten in the scuffle. My pulse thundered in my ears as I lunged for it, my knees skidding against the hardwood.
Reid saw me. With a burst of drunken strength, he twisted free of Ryan’s grip and lunged.
No. No. No.
My fingers grazed the cold metal just as his hand clamped over mine. “No!” I screamed.
A deafeningbangshattered the air.
The world froze.
A sharp, metallic ringing filled my ears. The room seemed to tilt, sound warping as if I were trapped underwater.
Reid’s breath hitched. His wild eyes stared at the gun in his trembling hand, his grip loosening until the weapon clattered to the floor.
My own breath hitched. I looked at Ryan first, terror clawing up my throat–but his wide eyes weren’t on himself.
They were on me.
And then I felt it.
White-hot pain. A searing, burning agony that stole the air from my lungs. My arm felt wet. Too wet.
I looked down. Crimson bloomed across my shirt.
The room lurched. My vision swam.
The floor rose up to meet me.
“Harper!” Ryan’s voice ripped through the haze, raw and panicked.
And then he was there, his hands pressed against the wound–warm, firm, desperate.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice trembling, thick with something I’d never heard before. “You’re okay. I’m calling for help. Just stay with me, alright? Stay with me.”
I tried to focus on him. On the strength in his hands, the warmth of his touch. But the pain was too much.
The edges of the room blurred. The walls felt too far away. My fingers felt numb.
Somewhere, distantly, I heard footsteps. A door slamming. Reid was gone.
Ryan’s face swam into view–his eyes glassier than I’d ever seen them, his expression wrecked. “Harper, please,” he choked out. “Stay awake. You can’t–don’t leave me.”
My lips trembled. I tried to form words, to reach for him, to say something before it was too late.
“I… I love you.”
It was barely a whisper. But his whole body shook.
Ryan’s face crumpled. His grip on me tightened. I felt his hand on my cheek. His other pressing harder against my shoulder. His lips on my temple, my forehead–my mouth. But everything else was slipping away. His voice blurred, fading to static.
The room turned to shadows.
