Page 92 of I Can't Even

And her intestines.

They were perilously close to touching the dirt.

I called 911 using Siri.

After giving my location, I gently placed my hand over Ellodie’s organs and turned her, hoping that my hand would be enough to keep everything inside.

I felt her heart beating against my hand.

Felt the slick wetness of her blood.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A commotion had me glancing up, but not moving.

A man came running through the trees.

Dr. Brewn.

He was being chased by someone.

When I looked up it was to find Boss hot on his heels, jowls wide open, bravely trying to catch the motherfucker.

Boss leapt and Dr. Brewn went down, falling right off a switchback and onto the creek bed below.

Boss followed at a much less breakneck pace, but I could tell by his barks of outrage that he’d not gotten his prize yet.

Garrett paused with his face taking everything there was to take in, horror evident.

“It’s bad,” I whispered.

Garrett swallowed and nodded.

“Go,” I ordered.

Everything was a blur after that.

I wound up in the ambulance after that, on the bench seat next to a paramedic, helping where I could.

I’d done it before.

I’d done it a lot of times before, actually.

But there was something different about doing this when it was someone I loved.

When it was the only woman that was made for me.

“Baby just kicked,” the paramedic said as he held the pad in place.

I jerked my head up. “What?”

“The baby,” he elaborated. “Moving like crazy.”

The baby.

Moving like crazy.

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