Page 16

Chapter 16

McCoy

“Sawyer, here, take these.” Coy gently pressed the two low-dose aspirin against Sawyer’s lips.

Sawyer’s eyes flickered open, and her hand left where it’d been clenching her chest to shakily grasp the Yeti water bottle on the ground. Coy saw this and shook her head. “Chew them. The ambulance will be here soon, but those should help if you’re having a heart attack.”

She scanned Sawyer’s body slowly, noting the restrictive blouse and slacks she wore. “Your clothes are too tight. Can I?” Coy asked, her gaze not leaving Sawyer’s as she gestured to Sawyer’s blazer. Upon Sawyer’s slight nod, Coy reached for the blazer’s buttons, hoping Sawyer couldn’t see the tremble in her fingers.

She’s a victim, a patient. Just like the ones you’ve helped on the trails.

But try as she might, Coy couldn’t get the image of Sawyer falling out of her head. Had she not been so thrown by their kiss, she might have known earlier that something was off with Sawyer. Coy had noticed Sawyer a few times holding her stomach or rubbing her neck, but Coy had chalked it up to the strangeness of the situation. If Coy hadn’t had regrets of pushing Sawyer away and decided at the last minute to run after her, who knows how long Sawyer would have been alone, possibly dying?

Tears burned her eyes, blurring the last button on the blazer so Coy had no choice but to blink. She swallowed, wiping her damp cheeks with the heel of her hands and darting a quick look Sawyer’s way. Her eyes had drifted closed once more. “I’m just gonna undo the first few buttons on your blouse,” she explained, reaching for the material. Sawyer’s normally tanned skin had taken on an unusual pallor, and as Coy revealed Sawyer’s collarbones and chest under the blouse, the ragged, uneven rise and falls of Sawyer’s breath were unmistakable.

“Call Desmarais. Tell Barb … I’ll be late,” Sawyer mumbled, opening her eyes long enough to meet Coy’s concerned gaze. They closed again seconds before she slumped over, unconscious.

“Shit. Shit , Sawyer,“ Coy exclaimed, slipping her hands around Sawyer’s waist and carefully guiding her the rest of the way to the ground. Falling to her knees, she placed two fingers against Sawyer’s neck in search of a pulse. Nothing. Coy’s eyes darted to Sawyer’s chest, noticing the lack of movement, and immediately ripped the remaining buttons open on Sawyer’s blouse. She could feel her own breath coming out short and choppy as she reached for the small scissors in her First Aid kit. Making quick work cutting off Sawyer’s bra, Coy ignored the few bystanders now hovering close by and began CPR.

One, two, three, four …

The distant sound of sirens sometime later was music to Coy’s ears, and she had to force herself not to sag in relief. Not yet , she thought through clenched teeth, not daring to let up too soon on the rigorous chest compressions. She had to keep Sawyer’s blood circulating until … until …

A hand landed on Coy’s shoulder, and she flinched in surprise, looking up bleary-eyed to find a paramedic. “Thanks, we’ve got her from here. Great job.”

Coy blinked and reluctantly let Sawyer go, aware of the tears dripping off her chin to dampen her coveralls. She answered the paramedics’ rapid-fire questions as they hooked up an AED to Sawyer’s chest, but her voice sounded far off, like she was stuck inside a dream or the situation was happening to someone else, not her.

“Clear!”

“Okay, we’ve got a pulse!”

Greg appeared beside her at some point, wrapping his arms around Coy. “You did good, kiddo. Probably saved her life. I’m proud of you.”

Why don’t you go wait for news at the hospital? Cancel your plans with Naz.

Coy closed her eyes as she sat at the foot of her bed hours later, her father’s parting words haunting her “guys’ night” like some kind of twisted, anti-lust omen. When she was putting back shots with Naz at the strip club, she thought the tequila would eventually drown out her old man’s voice. She’d foolishly hoped that once she’d seen Jasmine’s newest dance routine up on the stage, she’d forget she’d left a piece of her heart with Sawyer hours before.

As it turned out, tequila and the promise of uncomplicated sex no longer made Coy forget. In fact, the guilt of going on with her life when she had no clue how Sawyer fared caused crater-sized hollows in her gut. While they’d been at the strip club, she’d taken off twice to the washroom to call Sawyer, only to reach her voicemail. When that didn’t work, she called the hospital, but no one would give her any information. They either didn’t know of an update or wouldn’t share it, and the lack of news drove Coy insane.

Now, hours later, Jasmine stepped between Coy’s thighs, her sultry smile a promise of all the kinky things she had planned for the three of them. “You’re so strong,” she crooned, skimming her palms up Coy’s arms. Coy was still wearing her sports bra, but Jasmine let out a grunt of satisfaction as her nails scored her back and shoulders. She licked Coy’s closed mouth, kissing a path to her ear where she whispered, “I love it when you pick me up to straddle you.”

“Yeah?” Coy murmured, willing her body to respond. A flicker of butterflies, moisture at her core, something . Am I broken? ‘Cause Jasmine always does the trick . As Jasmine teased Coy’s mouth until she opened, she reconsidered. She wasn’t broken. She was human, a half-decent one at that. One who’d witnessed their crush have a heart attack. It made sense that sex wouldn’t magically erase the last hour of her workday when Sawyer had stormed in only to be rushed to the hospital.

“I think maybe she’s hinting something,” Naz whispered, stepping behind Jasmine. Deft, tattooed fingers slipped into Jasmine’s jeans, circling her waistline before landing on the enclosure. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Naz’s voice was sweet, like honey, and the way Jasmine responded to the tattooist as Naz laid wet kisses along her bare shoulders was all the reason Coy needed.

“I, um …” Coy swallowed past the lump choking her, needing to get out of there pronto. She lifted Jasmine easily, but instead of placing her on her lap, Coy smoothly laid her down on the bed. “I’m so sorry, but I … I can’t do this tonight. You two have fun, though.” A ghost of a smile reached Coy’s lips, and she reached out to cup Jasmine’s cheek before slowly climbing off the bed. Then she gave Naz a little push toward the bed.

“You’re not joining us?”

“Nah, I’m … I need to go check on something.” Coy shook her head, not feeling the scene at all. How was her father always right? All she could think about was Sawyer, and how Jasmine didn’t smell or feel quite like her. It was stupid to think she could forget about a woman like that through meaningless sex. Her gaze landed on the far wall, and she noisily cleared her throat. “Use my room, though. Have fun.” Grabbing her earbuds and phone off the nightstand, Coy left them to it. As soon as she was in the hallway, she sagged against the wall, suddenly weak in the knees. “Fuck,” she whispered, scrubbing a hand over her face. She peered bleary eyed at her phone, still mostly drunk, and the early morning digits on her screen made her realize just how much time she’d wasted. She couldn’t exactly rush to the hospital at two thirty in the morning.

Coy padded barefoot to Sloane’s bedroom, knocking softly before inching the door ajar. A gust of cold air from the fan hit her bare skin, and she shivered, creeping across the carpet for the hoodie draped over the armchair. It fit perfectly, and Coy silently thanked her sister for wearing her hoodies a size too big.

“Who’s that?” Sloane’s muffled voice broke the repetitive whirring of the ceiling fan.

“Me. Can I sleep in here tonight?” Coy asked, already pulling back the bedcovers.

“Mm-hmm. Date not good?” Rolling over, Sloane’s sleepy visage came face-to-face with Coy’s. Her sister grimaced. “You stink like cigars.”

Coy chuckled, tucking the covers in around them. “You know a guys’ night isn’t complete without them.”

“Says Naz.”

“Says Naz,” Coy agreed, burrowing under the warmth of the duvet. The preferred temperature in their bedrooms was not something they had in common. Sloane slept like she was in the arctic, regardless of the season. Coy liked to think she fell more in the “normal” spectrum; she used a fan when it was hot and a heater when it was cold. Life didn’t need to be complicated.

“So, what’s up? You never turn down Jasmine.”

Coy sighed, shifting onto her back. She watched the shadows on the ceiling from a nearby streetlamp before admitting, “Sawyer has, like, taken over my damn mind or something. I can’t concentrate on anything else.”

“J.D. told me what happened at the shop. Were you scared?”

Coy nodded. “For her. I was terrified. Sawyer is always so strong-willed, you know? She’s fierce, and cold, and when she collapsed, I …” She stopped, her throat thickening as she struggled with the words. Fresh tears stung her eyes, taking Coy back to that afternoon and how scared Sawyer had looked. She shrugged, helpless. There were no words, none that would make sense to Sloane. Coy’s sister wouldn’t understand why she was hung up on Sawyer of all people.

“I bet you’re feeling pretty guilty right about now. You’ve never caused a heart attack after kissing a girl before.” Coy frowned, and Sloane rushed to add, “Not that it was your fault. Purely coincidental, I’m sure.”

Coy would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of that. Truthfully, Sawyer going into cardiac arrest moments after their kiss had plagued Coy’s thoughts all night. She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Coy had not pushed Sawyer away? Had Coy’s rejection tipped Sawyer’s stress levels over the edge?

“Shit, sorry, Coy. Lame joke.”

“Sawyer kissed me ,” Coy affirmed, sounding downright indignant, but seriously, since when had Sloane become so callous in her thoughts? “But yeah, you fucking suck right now. The single life must be making you bitter.” With a huff, she rolled over in the bed, facing away from Sloane.

Within five minutes, her twin had fallen back to sleep, but slumber refused to come to Coy. She was upset, confused, and could hear Jasmine’s muffled mewls coming from down the hall. After an hour, she slipped out of bed again and grabbed her keys. Walking to the hospital would be more favorable than enduring another damn second in the apartment.