Page 65 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

A burning sensation blasts through my chest when she goes limp in my arms, her body suddenly heavy and lifeless.

"No! Alex!" The scream tears from my throat, raw and primal.

I lay her flat on the ground with trembling hands, fingers searching desperately for a pulse, eyes fixed on her chest—Nothing. My world stops spinning. No, this can't happen again. Please God, not again.

Sirens wail in the distance, but I can't wait.

Won't wait. My hands find their position on her breastbone, and I start compressions.

After my father died, I swore I'd never be helpless again.

I took CPR courses, yearly refreshers, prepared for every emergency.

But nothing could have prepared me for this—doing chest compressions on the woman I love, feeling her ribs flex beneath my desperate pushes.

"Come on, Alex." Push. Push. Push. "You said we would get out of this shithole together." Push. Push. Push. "So don't you fucking dare leave me!"

Tilt her head back. Pinch her nose. Breathe life into her lungs. Watch her chest rise. Again. Again. Please baby, breathe.

"Sir, let us take over." A male voice breaks through my concentration.

"I can't!" The words come out strangled, my eyes never leaving Alisha's face. Her lips are turning blue. No, no, no.

"Sir, it's okay. We're the ambulance crew. You've done amazing, but let us take care of her from here."

It takes every molecule of willpower to let go of her. The moment I do, two paramedics swoop in with practiced efficiency. The woman immediately presses something against the wound while her partner checks for a heartbeat.

"She has a pulse. It's weak, but it's there."

Relief hits me so hard I sway on my knees.

"Your quick handling made a tremendous difference, sir. Excellent work," the woman says, but her voice is tight with urgency.

The thrum of helicopter blades fills the air as the trauma team arrives.

They rush over, a blur of movement and urgent voices.

Medical terms I don't understand fly between them as they work on Alex.

But my focus stays locked on her face. She's so pale, her skin almost translucent.

They hook her to a heart monitor, and the steady beeping triggers a flood of memories – my father on the floor, that same terrible sound marking his final moments.

The helplessness. The guilt. It crashes over me like a wave.

Then the beeping changes. Stutters. Stops.

The flatline tone pierces the air like a knife to my chest.

"Alex!" Her name rips from my soul.

I try to stand but my legs won't work. I watch, helpless, as they start compressions on her lifeless body. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

A man squats beside me, his voice gentle but firm. "Sir, my name is Ian. I'm a paramedic too."

"She can't leave me. Please." My hands are covered in her blood. I stare at them, seeing but not seeing. "You need to save her." Tears stream down my face as they yell 'clear' and her body arches off the ground.

"Alex!" The word comes out as a broken sob. "Don't give up. I can't lose you."

"Easy, sir."

My heart pounds faster and faster, vision tunneling. As I try to stand again, darkness rushes in like a tide, pulling me under.

Then nothing.

I open my eyes to the sweet sound of piano music drifting through the air. The piece is achingly familiar – one I used to play with Dad. God, I love that piece.

"Ah, you're awake."

I bolt upright, my heart stopping as I see the man sitting at the grand white piano. Overwhelmed, I can only stare.

* * *

Where am I?

He pats the space beside him on the bench, that familiar smile crinkling his eyes. "Come sit with me."

I don't question it. Don't hesitate. I lift myself from the silver couch and move through the space that radiates peace.

The notes flowing from the piano are transcendent, but they fade to silence as I close the distance between us.

When his eyes – so like my own – meet mine, words pour out before I can stop them.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I walked away that night."

My father shakes his head, his fingers hovering over the keys.

"If anyone should say sorry, it's me. It's time you hear the truth.

" His voice carries the weight of years of regret.

"Your mother and I made mistakes in parenting.

We were so focused on your gift that we forgot you were our dear son, who just wanted his parents' love and attention. "

He plays a single, soft note that seems to hang in the air between us.

"Carmen was the one who saw it first – how unhappy you were becoming with all the pressure I put on you.

She confronted me about it. We had heated discussions where she warned me that if I didn't stop pushing so hard, you would rebel against me one day.

" His hands fall still. "But I was stubborn.

Told her it was just a phase you were going through. "

I sit in silence, my brain struggling to process his words.

But he continues, each revelation striking like piano keys.

"Your mother never told you this because she didn't want you to hate me.

To get my way, I put her in an impossible position, using our powerful love against her.

I told her if she didn't support my dreams, she should leave – but if she did, I'd fight her to keep you with me.

" He shakes his head slowly, disgust clear in his voice.

"God, I turned into an obsessive, selfish bastard after my wrist injury. I'll regret it forever."

His hands rest in his lap, defeated. "Your mom made mistakes, Cole, but she loves you. She always has and always will." He pats my leg, and the familiar gesture nearly breaks me. "It's been too long since I heard that magical sound."

I release a shaky breath, staring at the music stand, unable to meet his eyes.

My dad leans close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Look at me, son."

When our matching blue eyes connect, the love I see there steals my breath. "Cole, you're not accountable for my death; you never were. It was simply my time." The sincerity in his voice melts the massive iceberg of guilt I've carried for so long, years of pain dissolving like ice in sunlight.

"Never, ever think you shouldn't play because of me and what happened. Even if you never perform for a crowd, at least play for yourself." His voice catches. "And know I'm goddamn proud of the man you've become. I love you, son."

These are the words I've needed to hear for fifteen years.

My hands descend to the keys of their own accord, fingertips tingling with anticipation.

As I begin to play, I sense Dad's smile, feel his presence beside me as the music flows from some deep, hidden place inside me.

The melody surrounds us, and for the first time in forever, I embrace the freedom of creating music, reconnecting with the part of myself I thought I'd lost. Playing from my heart and soul is ridiculously liberating.

I close my eyes, letting this moment seep into every fiber of my being.

"When will he wake?"

"When he's ready, sweetheart."

"I miss him."

My daughter's soft voice, filled with sadness, pulls me back. My eyelids part slowly, revealing a stark white ceiling.

What happened? Where is my father?

I push the lingering echoes of piano music aside and raise my head, discovering I'm in a hospital bed.

Sam sits hunched forward in one of those solid wooden chairs that numb your ass after an hour, her fingers lightly touching my arm.

The moment I move, she shoots upright, those beautiful blue eyes – so like mine – filling with tears.

"Hey, sweetheart."

She lifts herself carefully, wrapping her arms around me in a gentle hug. The fresh apple scent of her shampoo fills my nose, and something in my chest cracks open.

"Dad!" Her voice breaks on the word. "I-I missed y-you so much. I-I thought I lost you too."

When she pulls back to meet my eyes, I see the terror she's been carrying. "Sam, I'll always do my best to come back to you." The promise feels carved into my soul.

A nurse with raven-black hair steps forward. "Welcome back, Mr. Walker. How are you feeling?"

Before I can answer, the door opens. Brian and Bella appear, their smiles a mixture of relief and concern. Samantha settles back in her chair as Brian approaches, tapping my leg. "Glad you're back, my friend."

Without warning, the image of Alex lying limp in my arms crashes through my mind. The sound of that flatline rings in my ears, drowning everything else out.

The heart monitor beside me goes crazy as panic claws up my throat. "Alex!" Her name comes out strangled. "Where is she?"

Samantha's hand grabs my fist. "Dad, she..."

I stare at her sad face, watch her lower lip tremble, and my world starts to implode. I shake my head violently.

"No!" The word tears from my chest as I force myself upright, ignoring the screaming protest from my muscles. "Get this off me," I growl, clawing at the IV and heart monitor.

"Mr. Walker. You need to lie down."

I glare at the nurse as she grips my shoulder. She raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "Stop it! I'm here to help, but if you choose to be a difficult patient, I'm going to be your nurse from hell."

"I've been there already."

"Cole!" Brian's voice booms through the room. "Alisha is alive. So lie your fucking stubborn nasty ass back in bed!" His hand clamps on my arm, steadying me.

The words take a moment to penetrate.

Are they telling the truth?

"It's true, Dad." Sam's fingers squeeze mine. "Alisha is okay." When I meet her gaze, there's nothing but honesty there. "Please lie back, Dad," she pleads.

"Listen to that smart daughter of yours, Mr. Walker."

My body sinks into the mattress as relief floods through me. "That's better," the nurse says, watching my heart rate normalize.

"She's alive," I whisper, hardly daring to believe it.