“Now I want you to find her heart and lay your hands one over the top of the other and begin compressions. You’re going to perform thirty compressions. You’ll need to be firm. And then I want you to pinch her nose with your thumb and forefinger and breathe into her mouth. We want two breaths to thirty compressions. Okay, Gabe? Don’t hang up, an ambulance is on its way.”
“Okay.” I begin working on her—thirty compressions to two breaths, just like the woman said. Her mouth is sour from the vomit, and it’s strange having my lips on hers, so warm, but still so lifeless. At the end of my third breath, I place my hands over her chest and begin compressions again.
“Come on, Freckles,” I grunt. “You can’t leave me like this. Not like this.”
“You’re doing great, Gabe. Just focus on those compressions. The ambulance will be pulling up at any minute.”
Movement catches my eye, and I blink at the pool of thick crimson spreading between her legs. “Oh, shit. She’s bleeding. Fuck!”
“Where is she bleeding from, Gabe?”
“Between her legs. She’s pregnant. Fuck! I forgot to tell you she was pregnant.”
“It’s okay, the EMT officers are right outside.”
“Jesus, I can’t lose her.”
“Can you get to the door and let them in?”
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“Get to the door, Gabe. Her and the baby have a better chance of survival with the EMTs.”
I stand on shaking legs, grab my phone from the floor beside Lo’s head, and race for the door.
“You have a sick or injured person who needs urgent medical attention?” a guy in an EMT uniform asks. His partner behind him, a blonde with a high ponytail and a shrewd gaze, narrows her eyes on me.
“Yes, she’s in the living room. She’s pregnant.”
They brush past me with their stretcher and equipment. Lo is still unresponsive on the floor, and they work so fast they’re already intubating and performing compressions. I don’t want to see this, but I can’t look away. My kid is in there, fighting for his damn life right alongside the love of my life, and if I lose them both I don’t know what I’ll do. “Come on, Lo. Breathe! Just breathe, baby. Please?”
“What did she take?” the EMT asks.
“Take?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. Nothing. She wouldn’t even take an aspirin last week for a migraine.”
“How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I just came home and found her here instead of in bed.”
“I’ve got a pulse,” the guy says. “It’s weak, but there.”
“She’s bleeding out,” the female says. “We need to move her now.”
“Where are you taking her?”
“Cedars Sinai. Can you meet us there in case the surgeons have more questions?”
“I’m kind of fucked up.”
They exchange a look and nod. “We’re not supposed to take you, but given that I don’t want to tend a collision call you caused because you’re too fucked up to drive, you can ride in the front with me.”
“Thanks.” I run my hand through my hair and try to still my shaking limbs.Fuck. I’m a piece of shit. Lo and our baby needed me, and I wasn’t here.
The EMTs put her on a stretcher and wheel her out our front door. I follow them out, shutting the door behind me, and grab her hand before they load her in the back.
“Don’t you die on me, Freckles. Don’t you fucking die on me.”
The ride to Cedars Sinai is a total blur. They rushed Lo into the O.R. what feels like an hour ago, and I’m standing in the waiting room, staring at the doors as if at any moment she’s going to walk right through it. I know that’s ridiculous though. She might not even make it through the night. If I’d just been there. If I’d been home like I promised ...