Grayson

As a police officer, I've seen a lot of shit in the past four years. I've seen the worst in some people, a lot of bad accidents and circumstances, pure evil monstrosities where bodies were involved in a pool of blood. While some days are harder than others, four years on the force hardened me against the harsh realities, like an emotional set of armor.

All those years of hardened resolve were shattered the instant two bullets pierced through the body of the woman I love.

My mind is going crazy from what little sleep I don't get. A recurring nightmare makes me feel as if I am stuck on a carousel, going round and round on the highest frequency. The same dream resurfaces when I close my eyes; it's never-ending. Each time the carousel circles, I see red... blotches and blotches of red.

The same red that had stained Emery's white top when she was shot. The same blood red that coated my hands.

When we get to the hospital, Emery is rushed into surgery. Bridgette, Miles, and I stand hopelessly waiting in the emergency room lobby. A little girl walks by with her father and her bug eyes stare at my bloody hands.

The bloody hands from holding my girlfriend while she was bleeding out in front of me.

She's lost so much blood because the bullets went right into her abdomen but never came out. In the first surgery, the doctors manage to get them out, but her internal bleeding prompts another emergency surgery.

After the second surgery, I run to the bathroom, where I wince at my horror-stricken reflection in the mirror.

I look like a walking crime scene.

My hair is a mess and rustled. Blood speckles across my boxed-beard and my lungs cave in.I try to gasp for air, noticing the copious amounts of blood on my clothes and hands.

Turning on the faucet, I vigorously scrub my hands with soap and get the blood from beneath my fingernails out, watching as Emery's blood circles around the white sink before disappearing into the drain. I can barely manage to dry my hands because of how badly they are shaking. My hands white-knuckle grip onto both sides of the sink, trying to hold myself up. My entire body trembles while I reimagine what had transpired.

I have seen my fair share of shootings, blood, and lifeless bodies scattered on the floor, including children. Horrendous images haunt my mind from a police officer's required tasks, but I handle it as best I can professionally. Jesus and whiskey usually keeps me going and helps escape those horrific images.

But, this shooting, this blood - Emery's blood - invokes something deeply rooted in me that scares me straight to my core. I feel like a black hole is sucking me in, with no way out to escape, no oxygen to breathe. Nothing will bring me any comfort.

Why did she have to be so fast?

Why the fuck did she have to jump in front of me like that? Right into the line of fire.

Giving in to my shaking knees, I take one stride towards the wall and slide my back down against it. Attempting to stop the tears from constantly rolling out of my eyes, I rest my elbows on my knees and close my fists, bringing them over my eyes as if to act as a dam and stop the flood.

I wish I would have reacted faster.

I wish the bullet had gone through me instead of Emery.

One minute we are cuddling and I am holding her small body in my arms in bed, and next, I am holding her in my arms while we rush her to the hospital.

She was so cold, so pale.

When the blood was oozing out of her, how life was basically leaving her eyes, but I couldn't do anything about it was torturous. Internally, I was screaming like a banshee, watching the woman I love begin to leave this world.

Begin to leave me.

In a cruel twist of irony, the minute I thought I was going to lose her, when her eyes slid shut and her words stopped, was when I realized how much I truly love her and don't want to be without her.

The last words she graced my ears with, which I pray they aren't the last, haunt my thoughts.

"I love you, Grayson. Promise me you will take care of Bridgette and Chunk."

I can't be without her.

I have wasted so much time fighting my feelings for her and just being an asshole. Even my nickname for her, Peanut, started out because she hated it the most.

Precious time that I fear I can never make up for.

A week passes since Emery was shot. Two surgeries later, the doctors can only wait to see if Emery wakes up and breathes on her own.

Still raw with pain, a week with her life hanging by a thread leaves me slightly numb. Everything else in my life that felt like a priority isn't important. Nothing else matters than being here with her, but Bridgette is just as stubborn as her sister and made me leave to go eat and rest. Our dog Chunk is the only reason I agree to leave, to care for that little hairball that Emery loves so much.

I hardly sleep as the nightmares creep in when my eyes close. Again, I see the same thing, reliving that traumatizing moment where the bullets leave the gun, Emery leaps in front of me, gets struck, and then her body slumps onto the gravel. Just when her white top soaks and stains red from the blood, I wake up, sweating profusely and my heart hammering away.

I find myself going through a motion of routine -feed Chunk, eat, power nap, shower away the nightmare, then return to the hospital to be by Emery's side.

Thankfully, Miles, the Chief of Police and Bridgette's boyfriend, lets me take off work. He is just as worried as Bridgette and I, and offers to cover me as long as I need. Bridgette's managers here at the hospital are completely sympathetic towards her and advised she take as much time off as she needed.

We have been taking shifts, watching over her, praying that those beautiful doe eyes just open up and show us a flicker of life. Most of my time is spent by her side praying for a breath of hope.

Each time anyone in a white suit steps into the room, my spine straightens and my grip around Emery's motionless hand tightens. The news of her recovery got worse before we got a smidge of hope. The last major news was that Emery's life was now in her hands.

When I return to the hospital from showering and getting something in my stomach, I walk into the quiet, bleach-scented room. Bridgette sits in the chair by Emery's side, fast asleep, propping her head over her folded arms on the hospital bed. The countless hours of worrying and stress that I feel inside are evident on her face.

"Bridgette." I place my hand on her shoulder and give her a light shake.

Groaning, her eyes flutter open, she sits up, and rubs the sleep from her eyes. "Hmm? Grayson?"

With a weak smile, I nod. "I'm back. Your turn. Go home, get some rest, maybe eat and shower, too? I will stay until you get back."

In a Bridgette-like manner, she scowls, raises her arm, and sniffs her armpit. "You saying I stink?"

Chuckling, I shake my head. "I just meant you need a little break. If anything changes, I will call you."

"Yeah, alright," she agrees. Rising from her chair, she leans over and plants a soft kiss on Emery's forehead. "I will be back, Sissy. If you can hear me, wake your damn ass up," she murmurs.

"Thanks, Grayson." Patting my shoulder, she gives me a sympathetic smile, begins to leave the room, but stops at the door. "I am going to stop by and visit our parents, maybe grab more flowers. Call me immediately if anything changes."

I quickly look around at how many bouquets of dried flowers already flood Emery's room.

Does she need more?

"Will do."

With that, she takes one last look at Emery and leaves. I take the seat that Bridgette was occupying, and take Emery's hand in mine. "I'm back, Peanut."

The tube connected to her mouth continues to pump, keeping my girl alive. The low beeping of the machine that cuts through the deathly silence is the only response I get.

An hour passes and I feel myself drifting off, giving in to my tired body and heart. I release Emery's hand, rise to my feet, and head to the cafeteria to fetch some coffee.

Might just add an extra shot or two to help keep me up. I instantly think of iced coffee, Emery's favorite unless she drinks her nut juice. Though, she mostly wore them rather than drank them.

The cafeteria is not too far from Emery', just on the floor below room two-forty. Once I pour my coffee and three shots of caffeine to jolt me back to life, cell phones ring on the hips and pockets around me. I stop stirring the mixture when nurses and doctors begin running from the cafeteria in the same direction.

"Code blue, code blue!" They yell.

Our codes are different, but I'm pretty sure code blue isn't anything good.

As I lift my coffee to blow on the hot liquid, my gut wrenches. The cup slips from my hand, spilling all over the tile flooring when I hear one of the several nurses say, "Room Two-forty!"

Emery's room.

I run, nearly losing my footing on my coffee spill in the process. I move so fast that I pass some of the nurses that had a head start. My heart pounds loudly and feels like it's cracking. The shards of my breaking heart cut off my circulation while my throat feels as if it's closing in, cutting off my air supply.

Panting roughly, my chest rumbles. I sound like someone who has been smoking for thirty years, when in fact, I have never smoked. My heart continues its brutal assault against my ribs and moves up into my ears as I near Emery's room.

The pounding isn't from lack of exercise. It's the fear that I have for what might be happening in her room.

Finally reaching her room, I skid to an abrupt halt.

All my nightmares dissipate and my prayers are answered. Emery is sitting straight up, her doe eyes roaming the small confines of her hospital room until they land on me.

"G-Grayson," she stammers softly. Her voice is weak and dry, but it's her voice. The voice I feared I would never hear again speaks to me. She smiles softly and I turn to putty.

"Peanut," I manage to say, my smile extending ear to ear and my face becoming tear-stained once again.

The doctor and nurses surround her, removing the rest of her tubes and giving her water for her dry throat. By their less than amused conversations, code blue means that she was flatlining. Turns out my girl woke up in my absence and decided she would remove her own pulse monitor.

The entire time the nurses fuss around her, our eyes lock on one another. As soon as the nurses finish up, I rush to her side, wrap my arms around her, and plant my lips on top of her head.

"You scared the fucking shit out of me, Emery." I fist some of her hair in my hand and breathe in. She still smells of strawberries, coconut, and everything sweet. I feverishly plant kisses from her head to her forehead before moving to her full cheeks, and finally her sweet, sweet lips.

Stopping my assault of kisses on her face, I say, "Bridgette!"

"Bridgette?" Emery scoffs, crossing her arms. "Let me get this straight. We are having a moment and you call me by my sister's name?"

Chuckling, I quickly kiss my girl on her delicious, thin lips again before fishing out my cell phone. "Not like that, crazy ass. I promised I'd call her if anything happens."

Emery just smiles mischievously. "Sanity is overrated, anyway," she jokes.

Glad to see her humor is back.

I dial Bridgette's number six times before raking my fingers through my hair in aggravation. "Fuck, she isn't answering. She went to get flowers and visit your parents, but she needs to know you are awake."

"Maybe call Miles?"

I scroll through my contacts on my phone while Emery looks around her room. Proof of how loved she is, there's more bouquets of flowers here than in a flower shop. "Do I need more?"

Finding Miles' number, I press the call button. On the third ring, he picks up. "Grayson? Everything okay?"

"Miles, yes, everything is great. Emery is awake!" My voice cracks as I tell him the remarkable news. "I have been trying to get ahold of Bridgette. By any chance have you talked with her?"

"That's..." Miles exhales what sounds like the first breath he's had all week, then he chokes back his words. "That is wonderful. I will try to get a hold of her right now for you. Tell Emery I am so glad to hear she is good." The line goes dead and my hands go back to holding Emery.

"Miles is going to try and call her. He is happy to hear you're up."

My eyes drink in Emery's appearance. Her skin, ghost-white after losing so much blood, is slowly returning to her beautiful olive tones. Her eyes, though slightly sunken in, are still those adorable doe eyes that I love so much.

"Emery, I thought-" I intertwine our fingers tighter and press hers to my trembling lips, kissing each one as my happy tears begin to storm out again.

I can't seem to contain myself.

"I thought I lost you." I gulp down the enormous lump in my throat.

I had cried all the water within my body out, paced the hallways of this hospital like a mad man, and my insides shouted in panic until I was completely depleted of energy. But seeing those eyes, open and staring back at me, my heart flutters, jolting a reprieve of my exhaustion.

Despite how she's still weak, Emery pulls our joined hands to her mouth and mimics my actions by kissing my fingers. "I am still here," she murmurs. Her breath hits my skin and my spine twitches from the electricity that shoots up.

"Told you I would maybe take a bullet for you." She grants me a small smile but I return it with a frown.

"You said you might take a Nerf bullet for me."

She shrugs, smiling. "Well, I proved your theory that I wouldn't take a bullet for you wrong. Not only did I take one, but two bullets for you."

Wincing, my head shakes and jaw clenches. Not finding any humor in her words, I dial Bridgette's number one more time. It rings twice before she finally answers.

"Bridgette? Where are you!?" My voice raises before she even gets a word in. I didn't mean to shout, but she needs to hear the great news.

I don't give her a chance to respond again before I add, "Get back to the hospital now!"

By the crack in Bridgettes voice when she verifies she's at the cemetery, I realize that me raising my voice in excitement might have come off the wrong way to her and saddens me that I might have made her think something terrible happened.

Emery grabs my free hand and gives it a light squeeze, causing the dam to open up a little and a few tears escape as our eyes lock. On the speaker, I hear the phone shuffle with rough static.

"Bridgette... Bridgette, are you there?"

Muffled noises echo through the phone speaker. When I hear her breathing heavily over the phone, I finally say, "Bridgette...Emery...she..."

"She's what?"

"...Emery is awake!" Saying the words aloud brings more tears of joy and I lean in to give Emery another kiss.

The same loud noise comes through the phone once again before more shuffling. With news like this, I understand if Bridgette's dropping her phone.

"I am on my way, Grayson. Tell my sister I am on the way!"

She hangs up and I smile at Emery. "She's on her way."

A tear rolls out of Emery's eye, which makes me weak. "I can't wait to see her. All I kept thinking about was you two."

We sit in silence for a few moments, just staring at one another, enjoying and loving each other's silent company before I chuckle at how fast Bridgette must be driving.

She furrows her brows. "What's so funny?"

"Guess it's a good thing your sister is dating the Chief of Police. Receiving news like that, I imagine she will be going forty over on the way. I know I would be." I plant a soft kiss on her cheek and stare at her with intent. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"Never try and prove that bulletproof theory again, okay? My heart can't take it."

She replies by granting me a small, sincere smile before kissing me. She murmurs, "I love you," against my lips.

"I love you, Peanut.

So fucking much that it hurts.