Page 162 of Miami Ice

And then the world suddenly goes black.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I hear ringing.

I slowly open my eyes. My head hurts so bad, I want to throw up. I feel something warm and sticky on the side of my face. My neck is burning, and the pain extends down my right arm.

What happened?

My phone stops ringing. God, I feel so sick. I really want to throw up.

Suddenly I feel Winston nudging me, whimpering. I lightly lift my hand and feel his fur. The phone is ringing again. Ouch. I feel things sticking into my back, sharp little painful jabs.

Then it begins to come back to me in bits and pieces. How I slipped on the stairs. Desperately reached out to grab the banister, but instead got a handful of garland. How I spiraled down …

Tears fill my eyes. I’m in so much pain, I can barely move. My phone isn’t close enough to where I can get it and call for help. I lift my other hand to feel the warmth and stickiness on my face. When I pull my hand back, it’s covered in blood.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Panic fills me, and it gets harder to breathe. As I take a breath, a sharp pain takes over my right side. Can I move? Did I hurt my spine? Is that why I feel the stabbing pains in my back? Is the burning in my neck an injury? Now the panic begins to engulf me, and I feel as if I’m suffocating.

Minnie lets out a huge wail, like one I’ve never heard before. I turn my head—OUCH, that hurts, but oh, thank God, I can turn my head—and see her to my left, circling around me. Winston is still whimpering, and a sob escapes my throat. I could be here for hours. What if I can’t get up? What if I—

Suddenly I hear a car. Winston and Minnie both stop crying. Then I hear the car pull up the front drive. A door slams. Both pets race toward the door, and Winston begins barking furiously. Minnie is yowling. I hold my breath, hoping against hope Beckham has forgotten something. That he’s come back—

The key turns in the door, and Beckham opens it. His eyes land on me, and he goes white before my eyes.

“Georgie!” he cries, running over to my side. He drops down on his knees beside me, his dark eyes quickly assessing the situation.

“I—I fell d-down the st-st-stairs,” I get out between sobs.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Beckham says calmly. “You’re going to be okay, baby. I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m going to help you.”

He quickly swipes open his phone and calls 9-1-1. As soon as he does that, he reaches for one of my hands and laces his fingers through mine, squeezing it tight. I instinctively squeeze it back, and I see relief flicker across his face that I can do that.

“Yes, I have an emergency at 1361 Harbor Court Drive,” Beckham says matter-of-factly into his phone. “My girlfriend has fallen down the stairs. She’s conscious, but I’m worried about broken bones and a concussion …”

I feel my breathing get under control. Beckham isn’t panicking, which calms me down.

“There’s a wound to the left side of her face that is bleeding heavily,” he says. He listens for a moment, then looks down at me. “She can move her fingers. Georgie, can you wiggle your toes?”

I swallow and do as I’m told, moving my gingerbread women slippers.

“My neck hurts,” I say. “And pain is burning down my arm. My head is killing me. And there’s sharp pains in my side and my back feels weird.”

Beckham relays all this information to the dispatcher, then tells me, “Georgie. Stay as still as you can. I think your neck is a stinger, and that should stop, but we need for everything to be checked out, okay?”

“Okay,” I say as the tears roll down my face.

Beckham begins speaking to the dispatcher again. “Yes, she can move her limbs … I’m going to get something to try and stop the bleeding … Okay … Yes.”

He releases my hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something for that facial wound.”

Beckham gets up and runs into the kitchen, and returns with a clean dish towel, pressing it against the side of my face. I wince the second he touches me.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he applies pressure. “I just want to stop this. I think you’re going to need stitches across your cheekbone.”

I don’t quite process what he is saying, because other thoughts are going through my head. “Why did you come back?” I ask, confused.

“Ella called me. She was insistent that something bad had happened to you. She could feel it. Then she couldn’t get you on the phone, and she called me through Connectivity in a panic. She said it was a twin thing. I promised her I would come back and check on you. Thank God she got that feeling.”

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