Page 117 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

“Don’t move,” he spits at the guy. “I’m dying for a reason to bash your face in for touching my wife.”

“Police! Show your hands!” Officers flood into the small living space, and still, I don’t move. Connor slowly raises his hands in surrender, but walks towards me, nonetheless. He wraps me in his arms, and we stand like a statue as chaos ensues around us.

It happens in slow motion, and super speed at the same time. Their voices come from deep underwater.

One officer gets on the radio. “Dispatch, we need EMS to our location, female, unresponsive, possible overdose. No pulse, not breathing, CPR in progress.”

There’s no use for them to keep doing CPR, she’s dead. The cracking of her ribs beneath the compressions is a sound I’ll never forget. Or perhaps, I’ll forget it all. I’m not mentally here.

Another officer detains the creep and drags him out of the apartment to the squad car.

An officer tries to talk to me, and I blink back. Connor answers for me. He stays close, one hand never leaving my body.

“Time of death…” I hear the words, but they don’t make any sense.

Someone drapes a blanket over her body. A paramedic checks me over for what feels like forever. It could’ve been five minutes, or fifty. Time passes slowly underwater.

Eventually, the room clears. Mom is gone. The man who grabbed me is gone. The cops and paramedics are gone. I blink to focus my vision and find the apartment in shambles—all of our things strewn around like garbage.

Connor locks the door and walks slowly towards me.

“Come here,” he says softly.

I step into his arms and press my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat grounds me. Steady, strong, safe.

Connor leads me to the bathroom. While the water for the shower heats up, he undresses me carefully. We haven’t spoken a word.

He guides me beneath the warm spray and tips my head back to wet my hair. His gentle touch breaks me. I heave ugly sobs, and cry into his chest.

Furious at her for dying, for not getting help for her addictions, for choosing any and everything over her kids, for bullying me and shaming me, for never taking care of me.

I rage and Connor holds me together, so I don’t fall apart.

He washes and rinses our tired bodies and wraps me in a towel before drying himself. He leads me to our bed and pulls back the covers, helping me crawl in before I curl into myself.

The room goes black, and he wraps around me. He peels the damp towel from my skin and holds me close against his naked body.

“How did you know?” I ask into the dark.

“Livy came over for your movie marathon and the door was wide open. She called 911 and me. She waited downstairs until I got here.”

I have no reply, deeply grateful Livy called for help, and that Connor came so quickly.

But there are no words. There’s no fixing this, making it better, or taking it away.

Instead, I cling to the arms holding me together, so I don’t sink to the bottom of this ocean of despair. The pressure underwater cocoons my senses, and I drift into a dreamless sleep.

“Fuck, we don’t need to be talking about this, Quincy. Not today.” Connor’s sister left her cottage for the first time in what I’m guessing is all week.

“No. It’s okay. I need to try to get some normalcy back in my life. I’ve done nothing but grieve these past two years. I’m tired of people tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass. It’s bad enough they dance around Mom and Dad.” She shakes her head, a profound sadness overtaking her posture.

“We don’t mean to, I think we’re all trying to give you space while we all try to navigate life without…” I trail off.

“Without Sam. It’s okay to say his name. In fact, I’d prefer if everyone would. I hate how people act like he never existed at all. HIS NAME WAS SAM ANDERSEN!” She shouts into the starlit sky.

It’s New Year’s Eve—what would’ve been Sam’s thirty-first birthday, had he not died from an aortic aneurysm, leaving Connor’s sister a widow.

Even the thought of losing Connor breaks my heart. She’s so brave. I couldn’t live without Connor. Surely my soul would follow his. They’ve been woven together since fate drew his bike to the end of the paved road all those years ago.