“I don’t wanna sit,” Travis snapped. “I wanna see my wife.”
“You will,” Brantley said firmly. “Give them time to take care of her.”
Gage’s first instinct was to placate Travis, to tell him everything was going to be all right, that Kylie would be fine. He didn’t say any of those things. Probably because he had so many doubts himself. Fear, even now, threatened to choke him. It was likely exacerbated by the sheer terror he could see on Travis’s face. The man who was always strong and stoic looked anything but, and that scared the shit out of Gage.
Someone directed them to an empty corner of the room, offered coffee. They both refused but took their seats. Gage settled for sitting silently, his arm brushing Travis’s as they both remained perfectly still, staring at the doors that led to their wife.
Time moved slowly. Too slowly.
“How long has she been back there?” someone eventually asked.
“Not long,” someone else answered.
There were a few hushed whispers, maybe even a group praying softly. Gage barely heard them over the steady, painful thump of his heart as he sent up his own silent prayer, begging God to spare the most beautiful, the most vibrant woman he’d ever known.
Suddenly the doors opened and a man stepped out. Older man, pleasant face, serious eyes. Blue scrubs. He pulled off the face mask and the hair covering as he approached. It was in his movements, a sense of regret that had Gage’s heart squeezing.
“Walker family?”
No. Please no.
Gage got to his feet, shaking his head. It hadn’t been long enough. They hadn’t had her back there long enough to fix her broken, battered body.
“Is Kylie gonna be all right?” someone asked.
No.
Gage didn’t look away from the doctor. He saw the sorrow and remorse before he heard the words.
No, no, no.
And then the doctor said the words that would irrevocably change the world as they knew it.
“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”
*
Oh, Jesus. Fuck.
Travis tried to take a breath, but someone had replaced the oxygen with shards of glass that rattled around in his lungs, scraping him raw. The pain was unbearable. He could hear the godawful sounds coming out of his throat, but he was helpless to stop them.
God, no. This couldn’t be happening.
Travis stepped toward the doctor.
“We got her prepped for surgery,” the doctor was explaining, “and that was when we realized one of her ribs had pierced her aorta. There was nothing we could do.”
Before he realized what he was doing, Travis fisted the front of the doctor’s scrubs. “Go back in there,” he growled low in his throat. “Go back and fix her.”
A firm but gentle hand was on his. It was the doctor’s and he wasn’t attempting to push Travis off of him.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said softly.
Dead.
She couldn’t be dead.
No. Fuck, no.
Someone pried his hands off the doctor’s shirt, urged him back.
Not Kylie.
Travis stumbled, trying to breathe but it hurt.
It should’ve been him, not her. Travis would’ve given his life for hers in a second.
His body was racked with shudders as the sorrow tore through him. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
He stumbled back until he hit the wall, then slid to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. Tears flooded his eyes, made it impossible to see. He was aware of the people around him, moving, whispering, someone still talking to the doctor, others trying to console one another.
Didn’t they know it wouldn’t work?
Didn’t they realize that the light had vanished, that the heat from the sun no longer existed because Kylie was dead? Without her in it, the world would be a cold, dark place.
Travis was vaguely aware of guttural cries. It was enough to draw his attention to where Ethan and Beau were attempting to hold Gage up. Travis could feel his husband’s pain, but try as he might, he couldn’t muster the energy to console him. Not right now.
“Travis?”
He turned his attention to the man squatting down beside him.
“Reese and I will find her,” Brantley declared, his voice low and hard, his eyes glittering with rage. “We won’t stop until we do.”
Travis wanted to tell him he’d heard that before, that Brantley’s promises meant nothing. If they’d found her before now, Kylie wouldn’t be dead. If they’d found that bitch and put her in the ground, Travis’s world wouldn’t be flipped off its axis right now. His kids wouldn’t have to live out the rest of their days without their mother.
He didn’t say those things, though. He couldn’t. Right now, the coldness had frozen his vocal cords, made it impossible to speak, to feel, to move.
It was all he could do just to breathe.
*
Trey Walker stood on the periphery of the room, watching, listening.
He could feel the sadness, the heartbreak as it penetrated every person around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d witnessed something so tragic. They were lucky in that they didn’t experience loss often. The Walkers were strong, if not in body then in spirit. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, but most of the deaths he’d dealt with had been after the person had lived a long, fruitful life.
This was not one of those instances.
Kylie Walker hadn’t lived nearly long enough. She was far too young, just a few months older than Trey if he recalled correctly. Thirty-six years old. To have been taken like this … stolen from the world without warning, without a chance for anyone to say goodbye … it was heart-wrenching.
As he stood, Trey watched as family members hugged one another. Kaleb was holding his wife, Zoey, against his chest as she cried. Ethan and Beau were holding on to Gage, giving him as much support as they could. Kennedy was sitting in a chair, her head in her hands, a tissue clutched by her face. Sawyer was standing behind her, looking as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening. Brendon was on the phone, most likely calling his wife, Cheyenne, since she was currently on tour.
On the other side of the room, Braydon had his arms wrapped around Jessie, Kylie’s baby sister. She was hysterical, her sobs echoing as loudly as Gage’s. From here, Trey could see that Braydon was sobbing as much as his wife. Not far from them, Curtis was watching over everyone, his eyes sharp and clear, but his breaths were coming far too rapidly. He was on the verge of falling apart, but likely holding it together for everyone else.
And then there was Travis, sitting on the floor, alone, body jerking as he sobbed uncontrollably, head resting on his knees.
To think, there were so many more who hadn’t heard the news yet. The pain and sorrow were only beginning.
Trey couldn’t help but think this was their fault. If they’d only found Juliet Prince, they wouldn’t be here right now. The Walkers wouldn’t be suffering such a tragic, unfathomable loss.
Chapter Seven
Thursday, January 14, 2021
Days passed in a blur.
Sunday.
Monday.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
They were all the same, time having ceased to mean anything to Travis.
He relied on muscle memory to get him through the daily functions, accomplishing the bare minimum. He was relying on his parents, his brothers. They were all there, consoling one another, pitching in to take care of what needed to be taken care of.