Page 151 of Shadow

“I forgive you⁠—”

A slow smile slid up her face. “I love you.”

“I know, sugarplum.”

And then he really started to hurt. He winced, then leaned back. “Are you sure it’s just a flesh wound?”

“Help!” Daphne shouted.

Footsteps on the stairs, and two EMTs appeared, one familiar—right, Jackson.

“He’s been shot.” She stood up. “Again.”

“Technically, this was just the first⁠—”

“Stop talking,” said Jackson, who knelt beside him, pulling on gloves. He bent down and examined the wound. Grabbed a gauze pad. “Could be he nicked a kidney.”

“Great. A kidney.” Daphne shook her head.

Asher closed his eyes and heard himself groan as Jackson applied pressure to the wound. And now his head swam.

“I think I should lie down,” he said, reaching for the floor before he crashed into it.

Hands caught him. Fingers at his carotid artery, then a blood pressure cuff on his arm.

“Don’t,” Daphne snapped. “Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t⁠—”

“Not dying.” He tried to open his eyes, to smile. Failed. “Just—bleeding. A lot.”

“His pressure is dropping.”

“What?” Daphne. “Seriously!”

A needle in his vein, and fluid poured in.

“I need a backboard!” Jackson, probably on his radio.

Darkness pressed in around the edges.

“Asher, stay with us,” Jackson said.

Daphne’s voice. Close. “Listen, hotcakes. I just told you I loved you. So guess what—you don’t get to die⁠—”

“Backboard coming through.”

Hands moved him onto a board. Strapped him in. Then out to the garage.

He opened his eyes when they loaded him into the ambulance. Daphne stood at the open door.

And then she climbed in.

“Sorry, ma’am—no⁠—”

“I’m staying.”

“You can’t⁠—”

“Oh yeah, I can. I’m…I’m his wife! I’m staying!”