Page 23 of What the Wife Knew

Such as? I didn’t know what the hell was happening.

Richmond tugged at the neckline of his polo shirt. “Can’t breathe.”

I stopped lounging against the sink. He had my full attention now.

“Are you choking?” That was the only thing that made sense. But he could talk. That was good, right?

Richmond slid off the stool as if his bones had disintegrated. His body went into free fall and slammed to the floor without him bracing for impact.

“Dad!” Wyatt tried to pick Richmond up. When that didn’twork, Wyatt sat on the floor and gathered his father’s limp body on his lap.

“Help me.” Richmond grabbed Wyatt’s arm as he gasped. His breath came out as a mix of a cough and rough panting.

The color drained from Wyatt’s face as he looked up. “Addison?”

My body refused to move. Scattered thoughts filled my brain. Saving Richmond now could provide cover for what I had planned for him later... or I could end this now and be done. Thoughts about letting Richmond die on the floor battled with the pain and confusion in Wyatt’s voice. Hating Richmond and making Wyatt hold his father while he died were two different things. I could only live with one of them.

My legs finally worked. I pushed away from the counter and joined Wyatt on the floor, issuing orders as I took over. “Call 911.”

Wyatt rocked back and forth, cradling his father’s convulsing body.

I could not handle this alone. “Wyatt, do it now.”

The wheezing grew louder. Richmond struggled to breathe and talk. Finally, the mumbling made sense. “Pen.”

“He means his adrenaline pen.” Wyatt stood up. His hands shook as reached for his cellphone.

Right. Whatever. “Make the call, Wyatt.”

“He has a severe shellfish allergy. You know that, right?”

So? “He was eating a turkey sandwich.”

Wyatt and I shouted back and forth at each other. Energy surged through me as tension pinged around the room. Every minute felt frantic and out of control. The walls closed in until it was just the three of us in this tiny bit of space. Claustrophobicand frenetic. Sounds and smells crashed together, heightening the chaos.

Richmond rolled on his side, facing me. “Can’t...”

Wyatt yelled into the phone about needing an ambulance. I could barely hear him say the address over Richmond’s desperate attempts to inhale. His chests rose and fell as he fought for air.

“Where’s his adrenaline pen?” Wyatt was asking me.

Richmond’s wallet. His keys. I knew where he kept those but not a pen. “I have no idea.”

“How can you not know?” Wyatt screamed the question before talking to the person on the other end of the phone again.

I jumped when Richmond grabbed my hand. “Addison...”

Wyatt kept shouting and crying. “Help him!”

Get up. The order filtered through the white noise fogging my brain. I scrambled to my feet then stopped. Looking around the kitchen didn’t help. I couldn’t focus on anything.

That bag he carried around. The messenger bag. There had to be an adrenaline pen in there. I maneuvered around Wyatt and headed for the foyer.

“Where are you going?” he cried out.

“I’m getting the pen.” I grabbed the bag and brought it into the kitchen. Turned it upside down and shook it. A stethoscope fell out and hit the counter with a crack. A blood pressure cuff. Bandages. A bunch of stuff I couldn’t identify.

There, stuck in the side compartment, the needed adrenaline pen. That fast the crescendo of noise bouncing around my brain clicked off. My heart pounded but my mind cleared.

---