The Life That Mattered (Life #1)(38)

“You can’t.” His hand, pressed flat to his chest, curled into a fist as he swallowed hard. Sweat beaded along his brow while his shallow breaths chased one another. “Please … please go, Evie. AHHH!”

I jumped as his hands clawed at his scalp and his back arched. My heart pummeled my ribcage, and tears burned my eyes. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t a normal pain, even for some virus or other bug he might have picked up.

“Roe …” The tears fell fast and hard as my hand hovered over his arm, too afraid to touch him and cause him anymore pain as his body thrashed. “Roe, you’re scaring me. I … I don’t know what to do. What hurts? T-tell me w-what to do!”

He didn’t.

All he could do was flail in pain. I didn’t know that side to Ronin. He was my rock—more than a rock. He was an unmovable mountain. But … my mountain crumbled right in front of me.

“Ronin, stop! Tell me what to do!”

“Fuck!” He rolled away from me.

I grabbed my phone and called 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

“Send an ambulance! M-my boyfriend is in terrible p-pain, and I don’t know what to do.”

I knew she was asking me questions, but I couldn’t hear her past the pounding of my heart screaming at me, telling me to help him.

I muttered a few barely coherent replies as the room spun.

Yes, he was breathing.

No, he wasn’t responding to me.

Evie.

Evie.

Evie …

Each drumming beat said my name. Do something! But what?

They were on their way. The door was unlocked. I dropped my phone and kneeled on the bed, stroking his hair as he moaned like a tortured animal.

“Shh … they’re coming. Just hold on … they’re coming.” I didn’t think he heard me, but I said the words anyway. I repeated myself again and again, trying so hard to convince my heart to calm down. He would be fine. He had to be fine. I arrived that day in Vancouver.

A destiny.

Fate in perfect form.

We were meant to meet that day, and not for him to leave me. He couldn’t leave me. I think I’d known for months just how vulnerable my heart was to my feelings for Ronin. Sometimes we knew things that we never acknowledge until it was pulled—ripped—from inside of us. If I lost him, there would never be enough stitches to put me back together.

The door creaked open. Voices sounded. Footsteps pounded closer.

I held my breath. The slightest movement threatened to shatter my existence.

My tears dried while I unblinkingly stared at Ronin. They tried to ask him questions. Someone said something to me. I attempted a nod, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move until they fixed him—fixed him and gave him back to me. That was their job, right?

My job was to love him like no one had ever loved him before. I would do my job, but they had to do theirs first.

Him.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life loving him. Not a memory.

Retrieving my phone from the floor, I followed them out of the condo and called his parents before driving to the hospital.

Victor and Ling made it there before me because I had another breakdown in the car after I parked in the lot by the emergency room.

Roe …

He yelled when they took him away. And they took him away quickly. I felt their urgency rip through my heart.

Ling glanced up at me when I entered the waiting room wearing my bravest face. I wore it for my dad when he had his kidney transplant, and I’d been wearing it a lot during my mom’s chemo appointments.

Holding her hand out to me, Ling smiled. It was sad. She didn’t need to pretend that it wasn’t really bad. I felt certain the haunting cries from Ronin would stay embedded in my heart like shards of glass for eternity.

“Have they figured out what’s wrong with him?” I asked, sitting next to Ling as Victor typed something into his phone.

“No.” She had this odd expression. It was pained, yet eerily calm.

How was she not freaking out?

“I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. He told me to go home because he didn’t want me getting sick, but I don’t think what he has is contagious.”

“You did the right thing.” Ling squeezed my hand. “Now we wait.”

I released her hand to send Lila a text.

Me: Ronin is in the hospital.

Lila: Oh my god! Why?

Me: He’s in a lot of pain, but we don’t know what’s wrong with him. I’m so scared.

Lila: He’ll be fine. I’m on my way.

Guilt nibbled at my conscience. She didn’t need one more thing to take up her time, fill her mind with more stress and worry.

Me: No. Don’t come. I just needed to tell someone. Since you pray, I thought you could say one for Ronin.

Lila: Already said a prayer for him. And you.

It wasn’t that I didn’t pray. I was raised with religion, but my overly curious, scientific mind made it hard to keep the faith. I liked data, testing, proof … or at least a good probability. After years of lost or wavering faith, I didn’t feel confident that if there was a god, she would listen to my prayers.

Yes, my god (imaginary or not) was a woman.

I said my own prayers too. The unfaithful prayers involved a lot of groveling and apologizing.