I have no fucking clue what to tell her because I don’t know the answer. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to scare her any further than she already is. I look over and see the paramedics lifting Gwen onto the gurney.
I look back to Kelsey, and I hope like fuck that I’m not lying to her when I say, “Your mom is going to be fine.”
It takes her a minute, but she nods, taking my words for the truth I pray they are. She releases me and turns to the paramedic, and Daniel follows suit.
As he looks the kids over, my eyes go back to Gwen, who still hasn’t woken up. It’s scares me shitless that she’s still unconscious. I need her to wake up and show me she’s going to be okay. I need to hear her beautiful voice and see her stunning blue eyes. I won’t be able to fully breathe again until I do. The only thing keeping me together at the moment is the two kids that need me to stay strong. Gwen would want me to be strong for them. If it weren’t for them, there’s no telling the state I’d be in.
The paramedic deems the kids fine, just a few bumps and bruises, but still wants them to be checked out at the hospital. I’m torn when he asks me if I want to ride in the back of the ambulance with the kids, because I want to be with Gwen. The thought of having her out of my sight has panic trying to take over. What if she dies on the way to the hospital? What if we get there and the paramedic says she didn’t make it?
I look to the kids’ scared and pain-filled faces and know I can’t leave them alone. I know my mom or dad would ride with them, but it’s me they want, and I can’t deny them. There’s nothing I can do for Gwen at the moment. She’s in the hands of the paramedics, and I have to trust them to keep her safe. The kids need me more than her right now.
Gwen is loaded up and when the door’s closed and I can no longer see her, I swear my heart drops to my stomach. Vomit threatens.
The ambulance speeds away with its siren blaring, and I pray once again that she’ll be okay.
She has to be.
As the kids and I are loaded into the back of the other ambulance, my dad promises that he and my mom will be right behind us. I nod as the doors close behind us, and seconds later we’re moving as well, at a slower speed. I grit my teeth to keep from demanding we go faster.
The kids are sitting on the gurney, and I’ve got each of my hands holding one of theirs. I try to smile at them to keep up the façade of Gwen being okay. I don’t want them to see the worry and pain I’m currently feeling. They don’t need to know that I’m slowly dying inside, and I won’t be resurrected until I know Gwen will make it out of this alive.
Until I get a chance to tell her what I haven’t told her yet. That I love her.
Chapter 21
Gwendolyn
I wake to the most beaut
iful sound I’ve heard in years. It warms my belly and makes me want to smile. I want to open my eyes and look for the wonderful sound, but I’m scared if I do, it’ll only be a dream. It’s something I’ve wanted to hear for such a long time and feared would never happen. I don’t think I’ll survive it if it’s just a dream.
Something warm and soft is pressed to my side, and I want to snuggle into it further. A sweet and innocent floral scent hits my nose, and I love the smell. I feel pressure on my hand, and it’s only then I realize there are small fingers laced with mine. I give a tiny squeeze, checking to see if it’s real or just my imagination.
“Mama?” a soft voice says in my ear, and it’s that sound again that I love so much. The sweet way it’s said has tears forming under my closed eyes.
Unable to hold off any longer, I squint my eyes open, ready to slam them shut again and pray I can pull the dream back if what I hope is happening isn’t true. I feel the pull of a bandage and a slow throb on my forehead. Bright light blinds me and the throb becomes a piercing pain. Ignoring it, I try to focus. I need to know if it’s real. My vision is blurry, so I blink a few times.
When the world comes into focus, I’m met with eyes so green and beautiful it takes my breath away.
“Mama?” the voice says again.
My heart hurts so much at hearing this particular voice call me mama. But it’s a beautiful kind of pain. It’s a pain I’ll not only endure, I’ll beg to feel it every single day for the rest of my life.
Tears start leaking down my cheeks, and I let them, because there’s no way I could force them back.
“Hey, baby,” I croak, and lift my hand to lay it on my baby girl’s cheek.
Her eyes turn glassy, and I know she’s going to cry too. Seconds later, the first tear falls and her lips start to tremble. Her eyes flicker back and forth between mine, as if searching for something. She has a small bandage on her right cheek. Before I get a chance to worry that she’s hurt, she launches herself at me and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. Mine go around her small waist, and I hold on for dear life. My body aches where she’s lying on me, but I don’t care. I’ve got my girl in my arms and she said mama.
“I was so scared you died,” Kelsey cries against my neck. Her small body shakes in my arms
Tears track down my cheeks in rivers as I run my hand through her hair and down her back. As much as I hate knowing she was worried, I can’t help but be grateful that it’s caused her to start speaking.
“Shh,” I murmur against her hair. “I’m okay.”
She clings to me so tightly that it makes it hard to breathe, but she could cut off all the blood to my head and I wouldn’t care, as long as I have her in my arms and talking.
Something catches my attention, and I look to the right. My eyes land on Alexander with Daniel on his lap. There’s a small bandage on my son’s chin and my heart hurts knowing he was hurt. I run my eyes over the rest of him, feeling relief when I don’t see any other injuries.