Page 71 of Bleeding Hearts

Fuck.

“I’m coming, Mollie.” I have no idea what I’ll do when I get there besides offer comfort while we wait for the ambulance.

A rusty van is causing a traffic jam, so I weave around it. When I do, my purse falls to the floorboard and spills out. A tube with a blue tab and orange cap catches my eye.

I step on the gas harder. “Mollie, I have one with me. I’m coming. Tell sissy I’m coming. I can see the big ice cream.”

“Miss Beth has one. She’s coming. She can see the cone.” Despite still crying, Mollie shows more self-control than most adults would.

I don’t even bother parking. As soon as I’m by the side door, I slam on my brakes and throw the vehicle into park. Reaching for the EpiPen on the floorboard, I take a much needed breath. It compels me to move faster, thinking about how Kellie can’t do that right now, and I throw open my door, jump out, and run inside.

There’s a small crowd gathered around a back table. Mollie’s still talking into the phone, holding Kellie’s hand. Susanne is on another phone. She’s pale as a ghost. Nodding her head frantically but not saying anything. I want to scream at her to get her shit together, but I don’t have time for that. Kellie needs my help.

Dropping to my knees, I tap Kellie’s thigh. I’m so glad she taught me how to use this damn thing several months ago.

“You ready.” My voice is calmer than I feel as I twist off the cap and release the blue safety thing. “One, two, three.” Mimicking the actions she taught me, I jab it into her outer thigh and keep it there.

Her lips are so damn blue. It seems like it takes forever for the medicine to work, but eventually she sucks in a deep breath, and I release the one I was holding.

Fucking hell.

Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision as I clutch her hand, each weak breath a testament to the medicine finally taking effect. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest is now more even.

Mollie falls onto her sister’s chest and hugs her so tight, I’m afraid she’s restricting Kellie’s breathing again.

“Mollie, sunshine. Not so tight.”

When I tug her shoulder, she releases her sister and leaps into my embrace.

“Hey.” Patting her back, it takes great effort to control the tremble in my voice. “You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the tears stream down my face, hot and heavy. I can’t help it. That was intense and these girls mean the world to me.

The moment Susanne sees me, she falls back on her usual response. “What are you doing here?”

You’d think she’d be more excited to see me since I just saved her granddaughter’s life, but once a bitch, always a bitch.

Mollie turns her head, so she’s looking at her grandmother. “I called her. I was scared. I knew she had a special pen, ‘cause I put it in her purse.”

That’s right. I’d forgotten about that. Mollie put it there on Halloween before we went out, so I’d have one, just in case. It’s a good thing she did. I’m so thankful I never took it out.

Kellie’s breathing is improving, but is still labored. “Thank you.”

Once the ambulance arrives, I stand with Mollie clinging to me like a monkey and move out of their way. Quickly assessing Kellie, they administer oxygen and then move her to a gurney for transport to the local children’s hospital.

After they load her, the EMT turns to us. “Only one of you can ride with us. Are you her mother?”

Susanne responds before I can. “She has no family ties to them whatsoever. I’m her grandmother. But I have her sister. Can we both come?”

“It’s not ideal.”

Knowing we can’t waste time, I step in. “I’ll bring Mollie with me. You go with Kellie, Susanne.”

Susanne harrumphs, displeasure evident on her face, but finally concedes. “Fine. But once we’re settled, you can go.”

That’s not happening, but I don’t bother sharing. Instead, I carry Mollie over to my vehicle and flip the built-in booster down so she can strap herself in. That’s the nice thing about these new vehicles. Most have built-in boosters, making it much more convenient when you have young children.

“You okay?” I ask her as soon as she’s strapped in.

Silent, she just looks at me with enormous, sorrowful eyes, a single nod, her only response. In fact, she hasn’t said much since Kellie started feeling better.

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