Page 23 of Mind

“Sure,” I say barely managing a smile.

While I’m giving my statement to San Francisco’s finest, a team of paramedics comes out of the gym with my target on their stretcher. One of them is on top of it straddling Phillip and pumping his chest. His heart must have stopped. Maybe my luck is turning around. The team pushes him into the ambulance, and with lights flashing and the siren blaring, they speed off into the night toward the hospital. I couldn’t wait to hear the news of whether he lives or dies.

Gillian

Chase tickles my feet as I try and fail to read a saucy romance novel. “Cut it out!” I poke at him with my toes. He has a pair of black, wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he pretends to read an article inForbeswhile “massaging my feet”. Chase glances over the rims of his spectacles. Drop dead sexy. There’s something about a man looking positively smart that makes him utterly edible. It’s proof he’s Superman. He even has Clark Kent’s glasses.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” A slow grin slips along his lush lips. I was debating attacking my man when the cellphone on the table rings.

I look at the display. The number shows ‘unknown’. Instantly, cold sweeps through me, stilling all movement. “What’s the matter?” Chase asks, noticing the shift in our casual Sunday morning.

“Not sure.” I hold the display out and he grabs the phone, answering it.

“Chase Davis here,” he barks into the phone using his menacing all business voice. For a moment, he listens, not saying anything. I hold my breath as I wait. “Yes, she’s my fiancée. You can tell me whatever it is.” His tone is a warning, like when a rattlesnake shakes its tail. “I see. When did this happen?” He looks at his watch. “We’ll be right there. Thank you for calling.” Chase frowns, hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath.

Bone chilling fear slithers along my spine. I just know something horrible has happened. I can feel it deep within my soul. “What is it?”

“It’s Phillip. He’s been hurt. We have to get to the hospital. Right now.” For Chase to say it likethat, I realize it must be bad.

Jumping up, I rush to our room. Tossing the robe onto the floor, I throw on a pair of yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt. The entire process between getting dressed, stepping into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbing a hair tie takes less than five minutes. Chase ushers me to the garage level where he helps me into a gunmetal grey Aston Martin. He is clenching his teeth, his lips in a grim line. He’s holding something back.

“What are you not telling me?” I whisper.

“It was an explosion at the gym. It’s not looking good.” He cringes as he puts the car in gear and speeds off towards the hospital.

Please be okay. Please be okay.I chant over and over in my head on the way to the hospital.I can’t lose you.

I must have said that last part out loud because Chase responds, “You’re not going to lose your friend. Have a little faith,” Chase grips my hand in his. Palm to palm his energy seeps into my body and warms my soul. Solid, unyielding. This is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

We make it to the hospital in record time. Chase’s connections get us more information than the average Joe. Turns out the explosion took place several hours ago.

“Why weren’t we called sooner?” I ask panicking, realizing Anabelle has been with her sitter for a lot longer than Phillip’s usual gym visit.

The nurse that was sent to talk to us, pulls us to the side. “Your friend was wearing gym attire. He didn’t have any identification on him. It wasn’t until the gym was able to pull up the list of patrons and go through a process of elimination, crosschecking who checked into the gym during that timeframe to who the cops had already spoken to as well as who we were able to identify here. There are twenty-five people here from the explosion. Your friend wasnotone of the luckier ones. He’s still in surgery now.”

White-hot prickles, tingle over my skin and my eyesight goes fuzzy. Blotches of darkness, then light, waver in and out throwing me off balance. “Shit, she’s going to faint!” I hear Chase’s voice.

“Not on my watch,” the nurse says and shoves something under my noise. Synapsis fire on all cylinders and I come alive, completely alert. Turns out it’s called an ammonia capsule that she shoved under my nose. Damn thing felt like it burned straight through the lining of my nasal cavity. Chase and the nurse lead me to a chair and I sit, putting my head between my legs.

“Breathe, Gillian, it’s going to be okay.” Chase rubs his hand up and down my spine in long soothing strokes.

I lift my head and focus once again on the blonde nurse with wide eyes. She reminds me of Bambi. All doe-eyed and small facial features. “I’m fine. Thank you. Please give us the rundown.”

The nurse pulls out a clipboard. “What’s your name? I need to verify you are next of kin or listed as his emergency contact.” My mouth drops open and Chase bristles besides me.

“Look, I’m personal friends with the Dean of Medicine and a member of the Board of Directors for this hospital, not to mention a valued donor. You can talk candidly with us.” Chase uses his, ‘I own the universe and you are but a small pawn in my large game of chess’ voice. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.

Her eyebrows rise over large doe-eyes giving us an “I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are and who you know” type look. Instead of getting into a verbal brawl, which will get us nowhere fast, I pull out my wallet and present her with my ID. She finds the space in his paperwork, and thank Heavens that Phil and I are one another’s medical contacts.

“Gillian Callahan,” she says out loud and double checks my driver’s license. “Okay, I can tell you what I know, but you’ll have to get full details from the doctor. Mr. Parks is in surgery now. He had internal bleeding and shrapnel injuries from the explosion. They have removed most of the shrapnel and his spleen. They repaired a tear in his liver, re-inflated the collapsed lung, and now, they’re working on setting the breaks in his legs. ”

My hand flies up to cover my mouth. “God, is he going to make it?” I ask not really wanting to hear the answer. There really is no other option but a huge and resounding “YES” that would be acceptable. The nurse doesn’t look like she’s got that magic answer.

“Ms. Callahan, we just don’t know. It’s touch and go right now. If he makes it through the next several hours of surgery, it will be a very long road to recovery.”

“B-b-but it’s possible? Anything’s possible right?” I look at her with all the hope, fear, and desperation of a woman who’s on the verge of losing her best friend, a member of her family for all intents and purposes.

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her big eyes. “Miracles happen every day in this place. My suggestion to you right now is to pray.” Those words slice through my heart and I cling to Chase.

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