Page 101 of Done with You

So immediately, Aiden started to administer CPR. Hand-over-hand, to the beat of Staying Alive, he did chest compressions. Then he plugged the man’s nose and performed mouth-to-mouth, then resumed the chest compressions.

Already the peel of an ambulance echoed in the background along with more headlights shining down on them from both sides of the highway where people had stopped to either spectate or offer help.

Aiden knew better than to try to move the man from his seat in case of a spinal injury, but the guy just fell out of the vehicle when Aiden opened the door, there wasn’t much he could do. He kept checking the guy’s pulse, checked his limbs and neck for any noticeable injuries, but it didn’t seem like there were any.

He resumed chest compressions when he couldn’t locate a pulse.

The ambulance siren drew closer and soon the white and red flashing lights had Aiden squinting and shielding his eyes. Three paramedics came bounding down into the ditch. Aiden checked the man’s pulse again. It was faint, but it was there.

A firetruck siren started in the background, too, and Aiden could already see their lights approaching.

He stepped out of the way so paramedics could take over CPR, but started to recount what happened to the first paramedic that approached him. “Guy was speeding like a maniac. Ran a red, then started swerving all over the road. I pulled up beside him to see what was going on and get him to pull over, that’s when he passed out and went into the ditch.”

“Why would you do that?” the paramedic asked.

“I’m a cop back in Montreal. I thought he was drunk.”

“And you don’t think that now?”

“I think he had a stroke,” Aiden said. “I don’t smell alcohol and the left side of his face is drooping.”

The paramedic nodded. They managed to get the guy breathing again—thank God—then they went about getting the man onto a stretcher board.

The firetruck rolled up and a few firefighters bailed out to survey the scene, as well.

Aiden stayed to answer anymore questions, but he knew from experience that he wasn’t of very much help. He gave them his phone number and name in case they had anymore questions, then eventually, like the rest of the lookie loos, he got back into the Camry and drove off like nothing had happened.

Only so much had happened.

And it wasn’t just the accident and the man nearly dying.

Aiden’s assumptions about the guy were wrong.

He’d been wrong about a lot of things.

For a very long time.

Chapter Twenty

Yanna Young hadn’t changed one bit.

Oona didn’t know why she thought that their mother would change. Would soften and become less ashamed of her daughters. Less judgmental.

But if she didn’t think her behavior was problematic, what reason did she have to try to augment it? However, Oona allowed her optimism to rise to the surface, hoping that maybe a Christmas miracle would occur and their mother would become a tolerable version of herself for the sake of Rayma’s wedding and the family all being together.

But nope. Oona should have known better.

The moment their mother walked into Rayma’s house, she had comments.

She had judgment.

She had her shame shadow to cast on every corner and cranny she made eye contact with.

She vehemently disagreed with the idea that Rayma and Jordan were living together before they were married, and when she found out that there was going to be an open bar—let alone alcohol served at the wedding at all—she made Rayma feel like she was hosting a rave rather than a tasteful winter wedding for all her nearest and dearest. The same thing happened at Triss’s wedding, so her comments about that barely fazed them.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back, or the words that drove Rayma to day drink more accurately, were when Rayma tried on her dress and all their mother did was cluck her tongue and shake her head.

“I don’t understand the need to show so much skin,” their mother said. “What ever happened to modesty? To humility. Less is more, don’t you think? If you insist on having this party at Christmas, in the winter, why not wear something a little more appropriate, with sleeves at the very least?”

---