I shrieked. Not caring about who was around me or might overhear me, I shouted, “That’s an order, dammit!”
His eyelids fluttered, and my heart jumped in my chest. “Gavin? Gavin, please look at me!”
Slowly his eyes opened, and he gazed up at me.
“There you are. Stay with me. Okay?”
“Hello? Vargas, is that you?” Peterson’s voice echoed from the phone.
Quickly, I related to him what had happened. Then I hung up before he could say anything else. I didn’t have time to talk to him. I needed to devote all my attention to Gavin.
“Peterson knows what happened, so once the ambulance gets here, they’ll radio in to take us to the best hospital around here. They might even airlift you, if you need it.”
Gavin wheezed out an agonized breath. “Love you. Always have . . . always will.”
My body shook as violent sobs racked me. “I love you, too. So fucking much. That’s why I want you to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.”
A beautiful smile lit up Gavin’s face. Without another word to me, he closed his eyes. When he went limp in my arms, a scream tore through me. “No! Sweet Jesus, no!” I buried my head in his chest, sobbing as hard as I had done the day my dad was taken from me. And once again it was at the hands of a biker.
In my warped sense of reality, it seemed that one moment I had cradled Gavin’s lifeless body in my arms, and then the next I found myself in a room off the ER at a hospital somewhere in Virginia. A scratchy blanket provided by an EMT was draped around my shoulders to fend off the rising chill spreading through my body. I blinked a few times to try to clear my eyes of the gritty feel from crying.
Someone had set a cup of black coffee on the table in front of me. Steam rose off the liquid. I reached out and took the cup in my trembling hands. As I brought the cup to my lips, I saw the rust-colored blood staining my hands.
Gavin’s blood.
My throat clenched, and I found I couldn’t take a sip. Instead, I felt like throwing up. With shaky fingers, I put the cup back down on the table. Once again, I found myself staring at my hands.
Twenty-two years ago I had done the same thing as I sat in a private holding room at the police station. No matter how many officers came inside that room with kind offers of sodas or candies, I ignored them and continued staring down at my hands covered in my father’s blood. The only person I finally acknowledged was my mother after she burst into the room. She took one look at me and my bloodied hands and clothes and collapsed into hysterics at my feet. I had had to offer her comfort in those first minutes before she got ahold of herself. It had been a hell of a lot for an eight-year-old kid to endure.
Just like then, time seemed to stand agonizingly still. I didn’t know how long I sat lost in my own world. I drifted in and out of a weird consciousness that was almost like sleeping, but I was fully awake. I paid no attention to the clicking hands on the wall clock. Time really had no meaning for me anymore. As with my father, it would be measured in the time before Gavin’s death and then the time after.
When the door opened, I glanced up to see Peterson, his face ashen. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother taking one of the chairs across from me. Instead, he sat down beside me. Eyeing the coffee cup in front of me, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a silver-plated flask. He poured a dark amber-colored liquid into the foam cup.
Staring at me, he brought the flask to his lips. After he took a long swig, I snaked one of my arms out of the blanket to take my cup. Although I should have sipped slowly, I sucked it down in one long, fiery, bitter gulp. The alcohol hit my stomach with a searing jolt, and I shuddered.
“I don’t know what the fuck to say to you right now,” Peterson said, his voice hoarse. After I gave a brief nod, he eased back in his chair. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems pretty evident. I’m sure