Page 115 of Only the Devil
“Daisy?” Jake’s voice is thin and confused as his eyes find mine. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. You saved me.” Tears blur my vision. “You stupid idiot.”
I want to drill him over his meds, but his face contorts with pain, his hand going to his chest. “Feels like...elephant sitting…”
“Don’t try to talk,” the female paramedic says, fitting an oxygen mask. “Your heart’s working overtime. We’re giving magnesium through the IV to help stabilize your rhythm.”
They lift him onto the gurney with practiced efficiency. Jake reaches for me, and I grab his hand, squeezing tight.
“I’m coming,” I tell the paramedics. It’s not a question.
The woman nods. “You can ride up front. We need room to work.”
As they load Jake into the ambulance, police cars arrive, their officers spilling out to secure the scene. One approaches me, but the female paramedic waves him off.
“She’s coming with us. You can get her statement at the hospital. The others here are DOA.”
I climb into the ambulance, watching through the small rear window as they work. The monitor flashes irregular peaks that make my stomach drop.
“How long has he had Long QT?” the driver asks as we pull away, sirens screaming.
“Recently diagnosed. That’s why he left the military,” I say, my voice catching. “He should’ve never been here.”
“These military types,” she says with a knowing shake. “They think they’re invincible. Long QT doesn’t care. One bad rhythm and—” She doesn’t finish.
Through the window, back in the patient area, a paramedic adjusts Jake’s IV. His chest rises and falls. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask, gripping the armrest until my knuckles blanch.
“His rhythm’s stabilizing with the magnesium. That’s a good sign. But he’ll need a full cardiac workup. Maybe an ICD."
“What’s that?”
“An implantable cardioverter-defibrillator — like a pacemaker that can shock the heart back into rhythm if it goes haywire.”
I think of Jake’s stubbornness, his refusal to be seen as weak. He’s going to hate it.
The hospital comes into view, the emergency entrance a bright beacon. A cardiac team waits — the paramedics must have called ahead.
“You’ll have to wait in the family area,” the driver tells me gently. “They’ll take good care of him.”
As they wheel Jake away, he turns his head, searching…for me. Even with the oxygen mask, I can see him trying to mouth the words: “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper back, even though he’s already disappearing through the double doors.
I stand alone under the harsh fluorescent lights, bloodstained and trembling as adrenaline crashes. A nurse approaches with a blanket and a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says. “And you can tell us more about his condition. Every detail helps.”
I nod, following her, but I’ve told her everything I know. He made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal or something to worry about. The big foolish oaf. Of course, he’s my idiotic oaf. Or I’m the idiot. I’m the one who insisted on coming here. On meeting Phillip. All to get answers I don’t need. And now… Jesus, Jake. He literally put his life on the line to save me because he’s got no sense of self-preservation and a heart the size of Texas—and that big, beautiful heart might be the very thing that takes him away.
Chapter 37
Jake
When I come to, I’m in the emergency room, surrounded by noise and the thin sheet dividers hanging from the ceiling. I’m hooked up to machines, an IV in my arm. The lights are blinding, the air freezing, and my chest fucking aches.
Daisy.
Where is she?
“Nurse,” I shout. “Nurse!”
