Page 59 of When Stars Fall

A guy comes close with his camera held out, clearly taking a photo or video, but I’m too dazed to say anything. When we don’t wave off the first person, others gather closer, and the scrutiny is claustrophobia-inducing. The thumping techno music streams out the front door of the club to the crowd waiting to get in, those passing us to go home, and those who followed us out, eager for a celebrity encounter.

The seizure goes on forever, with Wyatt trying to keep Isaac’s head from banging against the concrete sidewalk. Finally, he stills. I stare at the crowd, thick with strangers, and I wonder why no one has stepped forward to help. There must besomeonewho can help. “Is there a doctor?” I cry.

“He doesn’t have a pulse.” Panic vibrates off Wyatt. “Ellie, Ellie. Can you find a pulse?”

On my knees, I fumble at his neck and then his wrist, but it doesn’t matter how hard I press, I can’t feel anything. The crowd around us seems to gather closer, but none of them are helping.

Sirens build in the distance. People in the crowd are praying and crying. Their cries of terror echo the sensation building in me.

“Someone help us,” I whisper.

There has to be a pulse somewhere, and I search again. People have a pulse, otherwise they’re . . . His lips take on a blueish tinge.No, no, no, no, no.

Wyatt shifts to Isaac’s chest and starts compressions. “You need to breathe into his mouth, Ellie.” He doesn’t break his frantic pace.

There are so many people around us that it’s suffocating. Phones are out, cameras are snapping, and I dread what they’re recording, what will be plastered across the news tomorrow.

When Wyatt pauses, I breathe into Isaac’s mouth and his chest rises. “Come on, Isaac,” he says. “Stay with us. Come on.” He pushes hard and fast, and I wonder where he learned CPR.

The sirens are on top of us now, but we keep going. Someone is yelling, trying to organize the crowd, but it’s thick with resistance. Everyone wants their piece.

When the paramedics appear through the crush of bodies, they push Wyatt off Isaac’s chest to make him to stop. Wyatt wobbles as he tries to stand, and people in the crowd stumble with him, trying to move out of the way, but there’s so many of them it’s impossible. The paramedics fire questions at him about the possible drug combinations while they take vitals and confirm he’s in cardiac arrest, load him onto the gurney, and rush him into the ambulance.

Kyle pushes through the crowd, and he’s aided by Club Cobra bouncers who help guide us to the waiting car. Wyatt slides in, but he avoids eye contact. He stares out the window. “He’s going to be fine,” he says as we drive to the hospital. “He’s tough. He’ll pull through. He won’t die.”

My heart beats hard in my chest, and Wyatt’s mantra is almost drowned out. If Isaac dies . . . He can’t die. He’s invincible. He’s taken a lot more drugs than he did tonight. My memory flashes with the oxy and benzos Isaac took as we talked. So many.

We arrive at the hospital and rush through the emergency doors. At the threshold, we’re greeted by a doctor who takes us to a curtained room. Behind the curtain there needs to be a smiling Isaac. I’ll tell him he has to start taking better care of himself. I’ll tell him I love him. I’ll tell him he doesn’t have to abuse drugs anymore. He can be saved. We’ll save him.

“I’m sorry.” The doctor stands in front of the curtain. “He went into cardiac arrest due to the drug combinations in his system. We won’t have the toxicology report for a few weeks, but based on what we know, opioids, stimulants, and alcohol played major factors. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t get him back.”

Wyatt’s legs buckle, but he manages to stay upright. He closes his eyes. “Can I see him?”

“We’re calling his next of kin,” the doctor says while he finds the opening in the curtain.

“Tanvi.” Wyatt breathes her name like a prayer. His eyes, when they focus on me, are hollow, his face gaunt. “Tanvi.”

“I know.” First her husband, and now her only son.

Seeing Isaac lying on the hospital bed is surreal. He should wake up. But at the same time, I’m struck by the difference in a person once their heart no longer beats. He’s Isaac, but he’s not.

“I can’t.” His voice catches on a sob. “I don’t—” He tries to speak again. Then a sob rises out of him so gut-wrenching the sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. Pure heartbreak. His shoulders collapse and rise again like the waves in a stormy sea hitting the shore.

I wrap my arms around him, hugging him from the back. He clutches Isaac’s hand, and for the last time, the three of us are united.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wyatt

Present Day

I storm into the kitchen. I was on the brink of something with Ellie. But I can’t ignore a call from Anna. Sometimes I’m the only thing keeping her from fleeing and taking Jamal with her.

“Anna?”

“Sorry, Wyatt, it’s me,” Camila says.

“What’s up?” With Camila calling instead of Anna, this conversation could go two ways, but I’m certain it’ll end up nowhere I’ll like.

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