Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(87)

Maybe she went to a friend’s house to ride out the storm. I stand near the patio, wondering how I can even get inside. I stick my head between some branches. “Calista! Are you here?”

“Help!”

It’s one word. And it’s muffled. But it has my heart stopping and my stomach turning. Her sliding doors are intact. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I used something to break them. Fortunately, when I try to open them first, they’re unlocked. I step through into a war zone. With limited light, I try to make heads or tails of what I’m seeing. Branches are everywhere. Shards of ice are scattered across the floor. Or perhaps it’s glass from broken windows; it’s hard to tell. I shine the light overhead, trying to determine if we’re in danger of the roof collapsing, but part of it already has. “Calista!”

“Here. I’m here.”

At least she’s talking. “Where? I can’t see you.”

“Kitchen… I think.”

Good. I can get to the kitchen. I make my way around the mess and into the hallway, coming in from the other side. This isn’t so bad. I shine the light around, then scream when I see her lying on the ground, flattened by the kitchen table and a portion of the wall. The top of the tree pierces through what was the ceiling. “Calista!”

I find a place to set the flashlight so I can assess the situation. When I see blood pooling around the side of her that’s exposed, I try to hold it together. She’s on her back. What if the weight of the table and the wall hurt the baby? “I’m going to try and pull you out.”

I put my hands under her arms and tug. She doesn’t budge. “It’s my leg,” she says. “It’s caught on something.” She brings a hand up to her face to wipe off wetness dripping from the branches above her. Blood smears across her face. She stares at her hand in horror. “I’m bleeding! The baby? Oh, please no.”

But I notice the blood is concentrated on her arm. “Lie still. Let me see.” I take her arm and examine it with the flashlight. It almost looks like a bullet went through just below her elbow. An icicle must have speared her. “It’s your arm. It’s bleeding badly.”

“Have you called 911?” she cries.

I sit, put her arm in my lap, and try to stop the bleeding. “Calista, I can’t. Phones are out.

Everything is out.”

Blood trickles in a stream from her arm down my leg. I have to stop the bleeding. I take off my sweater, leaving me in my thin tank top, but I don’t feel the cold. Adrenaline is keeping me warm. I wrap the sweater around her arm like a tourniquet. “Does anything else hurt?”

“I… I don’t know. The baby. How’s the baby?”

“I can’t tell. And the only way to get you out is for me to leave and get help.”

“Don’t leave!”

I gently put her arm down and get up. “I have to. I’m sorry. I can’t get you out of here, and you need medical attention.”

“Can’t you call 911?”

I close my eyes. Jeez. She could have a head injury, too. “I can’t, the phones are out. I’ll go over to Mr. Hamm’s house. He has a truck. Maybe he can go for help.”

“You have to come back.”

“I will. I promise. I’m leaving you the flashlight. I can use the one on my phone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I run to the front door, then I carefully cross the yard, knowing if I slip, we’ll never get help. I bang on Mr. Hamm’s door. No answer. I move along to the next house.

Mrs. Simperson answers and looks me up and down. “Dear? What’s wrong?”

“Calista Hilson is hurt. A tree came down into her house. Is your husband home?”

“I’m afraid he got stuck in Boston due to all incoming flights being rerouted.”

“Can you go over to Mr. Gregory’s house? He has a truck. Tell him to bring fire rescue and an ambulance. She’s bleeding pretty badly, and she’s pregnant. I have to get back to her.”

She gets her coat. “Yes, of course.”

“Please be careful, Mrs. Simperson. It’s very icy out there.”

“I will. Now you go back and wait for help. I promise we’ll send it.”

I avoid all trees on the way back. It’s not hard, most of the larger trees are in the backs of houses. What I wouldn’t give for Jaxon to be home right now.

“Calista, I’m back,” I say, coming through her front door. She’s crying. I sink down beside her.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“The baby isn’t moving. What if—”

“He’s probably sleeping. The baby is well protected. You can’t think the worst. You need to keep up your strength.”

“Is help coming? My arm hurts. My leg.”

“Yes. Help is on the way, but it might be a while. The roads are covered with ice. Let’s take some deep breaths together, okay? Here we go. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.” We do it a few more times. “Better?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Calista. Do I love the idea of my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend having his baby?

No. But it is what it is, and we all need to make the best of it.”