Page 112 of Steinbeck
“Clean the insertion site.”Shep indicated the space between her ribs.He handed London the wipes.
Stein breathed again.Only one side of Emberly’s chest rose, and just barely.He could hardly find air for himself.
Please, God.Please.
“That’s good, London.”Shep handed her gauze.“Take these and catch the blood that runs off.Stein, hold up.”
Stein leaned back and only then realized that Tate and Colt and Logan and Fraser stood behind him, around him.
Colt put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed.And as Stein watched Shep feel for the space between Emberly’s ribs, the one place that might save her life, he picked up her hand, held it.
He didn’t care that his eyes filled, that his voice emerged small and broken.That the guys might hear him.“I’m holding on, Emberly.Just like I said.I’m sorry I let you go.I was selfish and scared and stupid.And it will never happen again.Just don’t...don’t leave.”
Shep shoved the needle in, and she jerked as if in response to pain.Then air sloughed out of her through the large-bore needle.Shep pressed fingers to her neck.
“Compressions, London.”
He said it quietly, and Stein stared at him as London bent over and started CPR.
No, no?—
“Breathe, Stein.”
He looked at Shep.
“For her.Breathe for her!”
Right.London stopped compressions and Stein leaned over, sent air into Emberly’s lungs.He tasted salt on his lips as he took a breath and delivered another one.
“Compressions,” Shep said, and London kept pumping.
A crowd gathered around them.
“Twelve, thirteen—okay, breaths, Stein.”
He leaned over, breathed into her.
Nothing.
Again.
She remained white, and London started again.Behind him, Britta started to sob.Madeline came up and held her, arms tight around her.He glanced at them, back at Emberly.
No.It was not supposed to end like this.They were supposed—well, they weren’t supposed to be anything.The thief and the Boy Scout.Yeah, it was a crazy fairy tale, but it was theirs.Oh, he wanted it to be theirs.Please, God.I’ve got nothing but You.
The blood London pumped through Emberly had started to flush her face.But still, she lay, unmoving, her face broken, and Stein closed his eyes, listening to London count.Nine.Ten.Eleven?—
“Stand back and see what I will do.”
His breath caught, the words nearly thunder, ripping through him.He opened his eyes.
Emberly’s chest moved, a breath captured.Then another.
“That’s good, London.”
“We have oxygen,” the EMT from before said, delivering—finally—an O2 tank.He affixed a mask over Emberly’s mouth.
And she breathed.
