Page 141 of Now Their Starlet

“Hey, hey,” Cameron murmurs, his arm catching me around the waist.

“Let me go!” I scream. “What the hell is going on! Someone—someone tell me what’s going on!”

My chest is heaving with sobs.

CPR only happens when someone’s heart has stopped, right? Or when someone’s stopped breathing.

Does that mean my dad isn’t breathing? Doesn’t that mean my dad is dead?

Is he dead?

Beck appears in front of me, doing his best to block my view as he hugs me from the front. As his arms wrap around me too, I can feel the way he’s trembling from the stress of the situation.

“I—I’m sorry, Starlight,” he rasps. “I didn’t—we didn’t want you to see this,” he rasps.

“What’s going on?” I sob, pushing desperately against his chest.

He lets out a quiet grunt, but doesn’t get out of the way.

“We found him unconscious in the car. He got home from work before we did. We don’t—don’t know how long he was in there for.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” It’s the only thing my brain seems to know what to say, given the circumstances.

I feel like I’m going to vomit.

No, this can’t be happening.

I just got my Dad back.

And now he’s dying?

“Has someone called an ambulance yet?” Cameron asks, his voice strained.

“Leo is on the phone with 911 right now,” Beck mumbles, squeezing me even tighter.

The two of them sandwiching me between them is the only thing keeping my knees from giving out.

I don’t know how long I stand there, listening to the sickening sounds of Eli breaking my dad’s ribs to manually keep his heart pumping, but it feels like an eternity.

The sound of sirens picks up in the distance, dragging me back to reality.

“Let me go,” I whisper.

“We can’t do that, Sweet Tea,” Cameron rasps.

“Let me go,” I repeat. “I need—need to talk to them.”

“We should—we should handle that,” Beck says, his brows drawing down. “You shouldn’t—shouldn’t worry.”

“Well, I am worried!” I bite out. “Nothing is going to change that. Feeling like I’m actually doing something and not just sitting around will help. Plus, I’m his daughter! That—that has to mean something, right?”

“It does,” Cameron says. I can hear it in his voice, the way he’s trying to compartmentalize, the way he’s trying to be the steady support I need right now.

He’s good at it, too. Better than Beck at least, who’s just as panicked as I am, though he’s definitely better at hiding it.

I wonder what horrors Cameron has had to witness and maintain a straight face for. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s going to take a break, if he has the skill to see my dad—his idol—lifeless on the driveway pavement, and not lose his shit.

A firetruck careens around the corner of the street, sirens wailing as it approaches our house.