Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Chapter 14
SEAN
My glass shatters on the floor as I take in my daughter in her bed, desperately gasping for breath. “GEORGIE,” I cry, racing to her.
This can’t be happening, not again.
I scoop her into my arms and grab her inhaler, trying to sit her up at the same time, my heart pounding so fucking fast, my hands shake. I put the inhaler to her lips and instantly puff the Ventolin into her mouth, only she can’t get a deep enough breath to send the medicine down her throat. I try again, but it’s no use.
My baby can’t fucking breathe.
Fear grips hold of me as I pull her to my chest and race out of her bedroom, flying down the stairs two at a time. I need to find a phone. I need a fucking ambulance. Now.
“You’re going to be okay,” I promise her, frantically searching for my phone, knowing every last second counts. Hell, if I don’t get her help soon, it will be too late. I can’t fucking lose her. I won’t.
Finding my phone by the oven, I dial 911 and hit speakerphone, quickly telling them what’s going down, and as the ambulance is dispatched and the operator remains on the phone, I focus all of my attention on my baby girl.
She needs to calm down. The more she panics, the worse it’s going to get. That includes crying. If she bursts into tears right now, it could be over.
I try my hardest to soothe her, but she can sense the panic deep within me, and it only makes her fret. “It’s okay, my sweet Georgie. It’s going to be okay,” I murmur, desperately wishing I could believe my own words. “Slow breaths. Help is nearly here.”
I mentally prepare myself in case I need to breathe for her or perform CPR. With Georgie still in my arms, I move to stand right by the open door, hitting the button for the gate and watching for the moment when paramedics arrive.
Putting Georgie down, I get her into the best position, the one I’ve watched the paramedics use too many fucking times to count. I drop to my knees beside her and see in her eyes that she’s begging me not to let her go, but I need to be smart here. I can’t be in the way.
I consider running her up to the front gate but I’m sure the frosty night air is not going to help her right now.
Hearing the sirens in the distance, I thank God that they’re nearly here. I can’t fucking stand myself right now. I had to go and get a glass of fucking water. I was gone for all of two seconds, and those two seconds nearly cost me my daughter.
I grip hold of my baby, willing the paramedics to hurry up. Please, Sara. Don’t take her from me. I know you miss her, but I’m not ready yet. Is this punishment for thinking of another woman? Punishment for needing to be happy without you? Needing to move on? Please, baby. Don’t take her from me.
The paramedics storm through the door with the shot ready, and I watch as the woman does all the same shit that Gigi had done a few weeks ago. And the second the shot is administered, the woman pulls back and watches Georgie through a tight, fearful stare.
And the moment Georgie takes a gasping breath, I fucking crumble.
Georgie’s throat quickly begins opening up again, and her breathing deepens. Her gasps are still shallow and not enough, but it’s the oxygen her little body so desperately needs.
Georgie tries to get up off the ground, desperately trying to fight her way into my arms, but the paramedics hold her down to ensure she’s stable before letting her go anywhere.
Reaching past the paramedic, I grip Georgie’s hand as she starts sobbing, calling for me. “Just one more second, baby,” I tell her, wishing she couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. I need to be strong for her.
That was too fucking close.
The paramedics finish what they’re doing and go to put her on the gurney, but she refuses, and I carry her out to the ambulance instead, holding her to my chest, unable to even think about letting her go. We all climb into the back of the ambulance and Georgie allows them to strap her into the gurney as I sit across from her, clutching her hand.
She spends the whole ride in the ambulance with her eyes trained on mine, fear flooding her gaze. I try my best to soothe her, but until she’s settled in the hospital, that’s not going to happen.
We get to the hospital in record time, and she’s wheeled inside before being transferred onto a bed. As her breathing has returned to normal and her airways are cleared and open, it takes a while for the doctor to come in.