“Nooo!” I screamed, my hands clenching into fists, my feet no longer feeling the ground beneath them.

If Fiona hadn’t been holding me from behind, I would have fallen to my knees.

Air wasn’t moving through my body; sobs clutched me from the inside instead, gripping me like a set of shackles where I could do nothing but shout, “Nooo!”

“I know, honey,” she cried. “I don’t know what to do, what to say. I’m completely broken for you right now.”

Her arms stayed around my waist, taking most of my weight as I pushed myself closer to the table where he was lying, standing at the very edge.

“Fi-o-na,” I sobbed, unable to say more, the wails bursting from my chest, spit covering my lips when they opened to scream again.

“Baby, I know,” she wept.

I found the strength to lift my fingers onto Caleb’s bare arm. Deep gashes marred his skin that was covered in blood. There was the empty line where they had placed the IV, the tape still stuck to his arm hair.

My shoulders dropped, my head falling onto his naked chest. There was a stickiness from where they’d placed the paddles, the pads still present from where they’d monitored his heart.

As I rubbed my cheek over the spot I had held so many times, there was no beat.

No warmth.

Just my skin against his.

“Nooo,” I cried, this time a quiet whisper. “Ca-leb …” I pounded the bed with my hand, like I was trying to shock his heart back into rhythm. “Co-come back to me.”

I watched my fingers crawl up his face. There were bruises under his eyes, deep wounds slashed across his forehead. I cupped his cheek, staring into his closed lids.

There was no ocean blue gazing back at me.

“Ca-leb …” Spit fell from my mouth onto his chest. “Don’t go, my lo-love.” My teeth ground together. A surge of air came through my throat, holding my chest prisoner, as I howled, “Do-don’t leave m-me.”

I pushed myself up and put my knee on the table, extending my other leg over his waist so I could lie next to him. My arm wrapped over his stomach as I cuddled as close as I could get.

I wedged my face into his neck, his woodsy scent long gone.

“I-I love you,” I whispered.

He didn’t slip his arms around me. He didn’t intertwine his legs with mine.

He didn’t open his eyes.

He didn’t tell me he loved me.

He just stayed still on the table.

Lifeless.

His body turning colder by the second.

I breathed, “I-I need y-you,” into his skin, waiting for a response, but I didn’t get one.

There was only silence.

And a breeze that wisped past us, carrying the sour smell of his blood.

Thirty-Three