I swallow, pulling it from my back pocket and handing it over. They turn and whisper to each other, and Eli glances at me. "Everything will be okay. Stay calm. They'll take everything and leave, and we can figure out what to do. We'll be fine. I promise."
Eli is always giving positive reinforcements, but I'm so damn scared that I don't know if I can believe him this time. Panic rolls in like a storm, and my breath feels like it's stuck in my chest. Seconds later, Eli has a coughing fit, and he needs his inhaler, but there's nothing I can do.
"What the fuck? Are you sick?” one of them asks, alarmed, then coming back over to us.
"No, he has asthma," I explain. "He needs his medicine."
Their eyes are wild like they're tweaked out as they dart back and forth between us, and I wish I could read their minds.
"You both need to turn around and get on your fucking knees,” he orders.
Eli wheezes, and I turn around to help him but slip on the gravel. He reaches to catch me, and then the gun goes off. The shot is so close, my ears immediately ring. It all happens in slow motion, and I see Eli collapse to the ground, and he's bleeding. There's movement and yelling behind us. When I glance over, I see one man jump into Eli's rental, and he peels out of the driveway with the other guy behind him in a truck. Looking back at Eli, I start panicking as the realization hits me.
"Eli," I whisper, seeing the dark pool of blood, and I try to put pressure on his shoulder. I'm frantic as tears stream down my face. I'm not sure what I can do, considering we don't have our phones.
He's moaning out in pain as he reaches up with his other hand, but I warn him not to touch it. The sound of his agony is something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. There's so much blood. "Please don't die on me. Please. Elijah," I emphasize his full name, hoping to capture his attention enough to hear me.
I take off my T-shirt and place it over the wound, putting all of my body weight on him. Thankfully, his asthma attack wasn’t severe, and he’s breathing okay, but I’m still scared. "Hold this the best you can. We need to get you to the hospital."
Eli groans, and I dart inside the house and grab the keys to my Range Rover. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I reverse out of the garage, drive as close to him as I can, then get out and rush back to him. With all the strength I have, I somehow get him to his feet, but he's so fucking weak. I get him in the passenger seat, then buckle him in. My hands shake as I shut the door and run around to the driver's side. As I place my hands on the steering wheel, I notice his blood on my hands and arms.
"Eli." I put the SUV in drive, then speed down the long driveway that leads to the main road. He's fading quickly as he groans, and I try to keep him focused on my voice by talking to him. "Please, stay awake. Don’t close your eyes."
I reach over and add as much pressure as I can to his shoulder while I keep one hand on the steering wheel. I tell him how much I love him, how much I've always loved him, but I'm not sure he hears me.
"Please, baby, please stay with me," I beg.
The nearest hospital is almost thirty minutes away, and he's losing so much blood. Tears spill down my face, and I know I need to stop and focus because I have to get us there safely, but at this rate, I’m scared we'll never make it.
This can't be the way I lose him. It can't be.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ELIJAH
DAY 45
I wake up gasping, open my eyes, and notice I'm in a stark white room. Machines beep around me, and there's an IV in my right hand. Pain shoots through my shoulder, and I wince as I look around. My left arm is in a sling, and my muscles feel stiff from lying here for only God knows how long. What the fuck happened? Where is everyone? What day is it? I have more questions than answers, and it frustrates the hell out of me.
I press the call button on the remote that's haphazardly looped around the hospital bed. A woman answers and asks what I need, but my throat is so dry I can barely get out any words. "Nurse."
"I'll send someone in."
Leaning back, I struggle to get comfortable. Twenty minutes pass, and eventually, someone enters.
"Oh, you're awake," she tells me.
"Where am I?" I ask gruffly. There are so many thoughts zooming through my mind, but I try to focus. I have a feeling I'm drowsy because of the pain medicine they're pumping in me, but I also feel out of it and exhausted.
"You’re at Margaretville Memorial. I'm Patricia, and I've been your nurse since you arrived four days ago," she explains. “The doctor should be in soon." She’s wearing full protective gear from head to toe, and her kind eyes are all I can see, but they remind me of my mother’s.
Wait. My eyes go wide. "Four days?" I ask, clearing my throat.
"Yes. It’s nice to see you awake," she says sweetly.
Patricia moves to the computer, looking at the monitors around me. She types as she asks me questions about how I’m feeling and what I would rate my pain level.
The door gently opens, and a male doctor enters, wearing the same protective gear as Patricia. "Hello, Elijah. I'm Dr. Jenner," he tells me.
“Hello,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
He steps toward me, checking the monitors. From what I can see on the screens, my blood pressure and heart rate all look normal.
“I was just about to tell him,” Patricia interjects, then smiles at me.
Dr. Jenner nods, then continues, “Your surgery went well. Being shot in the shoulder isn't an easy wound to manage, but you're lucky. A little farther over, and you might've not been so fortunate."
“You’ve been very lucky,” Patricia emphasizes. “No spiked fevers, no infections, and all your stats have been stable the past twenty-four hours.”
I blink. Surgery? Then I glance at my left shoulder again and realize it’s all bandaged in the sling.
“Gunshot…” I mutter as flashes of that day begin to surface, and then I remember the two men who followed me to the cabin from the grocery store.
“I was able to stop the bleeding, and with some physical therapy, you’ll be as good as new in a few months,” Dr. Jenner explains.
“That’s a relief,” I breathe out.
“Patricia will get you on their schedule, so you can meet with someone for a consultation before you go,” he explains.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
Dr. Jenner nods and gives Patricia further instructions before he excuses himself.
“The medicine has had you in and out since the surgery, but we started to wean you off this morning to see how you’d react.”
“I feel like I could sleep for another four days,” I say with a grunt.
She grins. “Getting shot and having surgery will do that to you. We’ll continue to give you pain meds until you’re discharged. We just have to keep an eye on your stats for another couple of days to make sure you don’t have any complications arise.”
Another two days? I groan at the thought. She begins talking about how PT will teach me some at-home exercises to do since the facilities are closed. But I don't give two shits about that right now. The only thing on my mind right now is Cami. Sweet Cami. Is she okay?