Page 89 of Never Enough

The realization washes over me in a wave of gratitude so intense it almost overwhelms me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so utterly grateful for another person’s life.

Alive.

The scent of sweat and cologne fills my senses, grounding me even as panic claws at my throat.

“Shh, Daphne, I’ve got you.” His voice is strained, his breath hot against my hair.

Oh, thank God. It sounds so nice to hear his voice.

Suddenly, I remember my mother. I clench Alex’s chest, but then the door creaks open again.

It’s Victoria who rushes in while my mother gapes at me and Alex.

Victoria slams into my mother, knocking her against the wall. Tile breaks from Mom’s skull smashing against it.

In the matter of seconds, she lies crumpled on the floor, Victoria standing over her, gun in hand, her face etched with fury and determination.

Victoria, who has never hidden her contempt for me, now holds my mother at bay.

“Victoria, are you good?” My voice trembles as I gaze up at her, my fingers still pressed firmly against Alex’s chest.

She nods, stern and composed amid the chaos. “Yeah, I already called the police and EMS.”

Who would have known that I’d want to be like her when I grow up?

Safe, I can’t tear my eyes from Alex. His heavy body presses against mine.

I cling to him, our bodies tangled in desperation. The world beyond our cocoon of anguish falls away: the threat of my mother, the echo of the gunshot, the horror of what might have been. It all fades until there is only the fierce embrace of the man who has just saved my life.

That is, until his eyes close and a sticky warmth spreads between us. A sharp tang of blood fills the air next. “Alex?”

I pull back just enough to see a dark stain blossoming across his chest.

She shot him!

“Alex!” The scream rips from my throat, raw and terrified.

I wiggle out from under him, my hands shaking as I press them against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

“Stay with me, please. Stay awake.”

“What’s wrong?” Victoria asks, still holding my mother at gunpoint.

“H-he’s been shot. Alex, please, wake up.”

His eyelids flutter, and for a moment, the world teeters on the edge of an abyss. Then he opens his eyes. Pain lances through my chest, not from injury but from the love that surges to meet his gaze.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice a thread of sound but as beautiful as any melody I’ve ever played on my harp.

Tears mix with laughter. “I love you,” I tell him, over and over. “I love you so much.” Too fearful to turn my head away from him, I inform Victoria, “Bleeding, but he’s awake right now. How long ago did you call 9-1-1?”

“Fuck. Okay, okay.” Panic laces her voice. “I called the second Alex barged into the bathroom. Should be on their way. Just take care of him; I’ll focus on your bitch of a mother.”

His eyes flutter, but he remains awake.

“Okay,” I whisper. My hands are slick, but I press harder.

“Love you,” he gasps.

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