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It looks like an allergic reaction, but I never knew she had any allergies.
I pluck my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and dial Liam’s number. He picks up on the first ring.
“Get a car ready, now,” I’m scampering down the hallway.
“On it,” he ends the call. No questions asked.
I shove my cell phone into my pocket and dart toward her bedroom.
I push the door, but something is wedging against it. I push with a little more force and then see strands of blue-black hair sprawling on the floor.
Holy fuck.
I slip myself in, my wristwatch ripping off because of the small opening and clattering to shatter on the floor.
I crouch and immediately sweep her body up.
Her breathing is heavy.
I quickly exit the bedroom and descendthe stairs three or four at a time, praying that I don't fall as I go.
How I manage to get from being inside my house to hopping into the backseat of my car in an instant is beyond me. Liam recognizes how urgent the matter is and acts quickly, barely waiting for me to shut the door before he takes off.
I won’t be able to live with myself if something were to happen to her, I would never be able to fucking live with myself.
It’s my responsibility to take care of her. To look out for her.
I clench her to my chest and grit my teeth as more bleakthoughts begin to fester in my mind.
I drop my eyes to her face and use my hand to brush some strands of her hair off her cheeks. She looks like she’s dying. She looks… Oh, dear God, please. For the sake of anything or whatever, please don’t let me lose her. Not again. Not like this.
I drop my forehead to rest on hers then press a kiss on her forehead. I should have kissed her more. I should have held her more. I should have never let her go. I shouldn’t have stepped out of her life when she asked me to. I should have fought for our love.
Liam pulls the car into a clinic that is close to my manor and on my payroll for good reason. It is barely five minutes away, and while I can boast that the clinic is up to standard, the cream-colored walls have always made me want to puke.
Clinics always make me want to puke.
I climb out of the car when Liam jumps out to help me with the door.
It’s madness in my head as I dart into the emergency room, demanding attention. Nurses file out from different corners, and soon, Olivia is being ripped away from me and taken on a stretcher into a ward.
I’m about to go with them when a nurse slams the door in my face.
“Fuck you,” I bark, but I’m not sure she heard me.
I don’t have a problem with the nurse. I just want to be in there. With her.
I want to be in there because I feel… Fuck… She better come back to me… She better fucking come back to me.
I grip the nape of my neck, needing to hit something—anything to get some of the tightness and frustration out of me.
I pace, everything and everyone becoming insignificant.
“She will be fine,” Liam clears his throat behind me but quickly steps away when I shoot him a deadly glance.
I don’t need any bullshit talk about whether she will be fine or not. I don’t need anyone to fucking comfort me. I need to leave this place with her alive and well.
“What could it be?” Liam whispers behind me, and I grit my teeth, ignoring his questions.
