Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Um… Who’s the father, Bridge?” she whispers.
“You know who it is,” I whisper back. “Declan. It could only be Declan.”
“Oh my.” She closes her eyes as if processing it all, but it doesn’t quite compute, her voice the tiniest whisper. If anyone heard—
“Cavin said that… he was worried about Declan.”
“Aye,” I say with a nod.
“Oh my,” Erin repeats, as the full weight of my revelation dawns on her. “Well, we can—”
“Help! Somebody help me!”
Erin and I stare at each other for a moment before we realize it’s Caitlin. My heart’s already beating frantically as we both leap to our feet. She rounds the kitchen, her gardening gloves still on, the trowel clutched in her hands, her eyes wide with terror. She’s breathing heavily, as if she’s run all the way.
“It’s Keenan! He’s in the garden, and he can’t—can’t breathe. He can’t get up—”
I’m already on my way, Erin right behind me. Of all days for everyone to be gone.
We find him on the flagstone path between the rose beds, half slumped against the garden bench, a hand flat to his chest. His lips have a strange bluish cast that makes my stomach lurch. Every breath he takes sounds wet and labored.
“Keenan.” Erin drops to her knees beside him, her voice steady in the way it gets when disaster strikes. “Stay with us. You’re alright.”
Erin’s already dialing the medics on her mobile.
Caitlin stands behind me, sniffling.
“I think… I think this could be the edema I was reading about. With Bronwyn. She was worried—never mind.”
I turn to face Keenan and fall to my knees in front of him. “Keenan, I need you to listen to me. You’re going to be alright, but it’s important you don’t fight this.” He’s trying to gulp air, which will only make it worse. “Slow it down. Small breaths. In through the nose.” I demonstrate. “Like this, okay? Don’t try to fill your lungs. Just small ones. Let me do the counting.”
He looks at me, his eyes wide with fear, this man who’s birthed the most terrifying men I know, a plea for help in them. “Good,” I say. “That’s it. Keep your eyes on me.”
“They’re on their way,” Erin says.
“Tell them it might be pulmonary edema. History of congestive heart failure. They want oxygen ready the moment they arrive.”
Erin relays the message. Caitlin kneels beside me and takes up the same breathing pattern as I am. “Just like that,” she says, her voice husky but strong. “You can do this. Don’t give in to the fear, Keenan. Breathe nice and slow, like Bridget showed you.”
I watch the color begin to return to his cheeks as the bright flashing sirens pull up to the house. That was so damn fast, but thank god.
They run up the large grassy hill, uniformed medics with oxygen in tow. One falls to his knees beside us and takes over as I step back.
Caitlin hugs me, holding me tight.
“Thank you,” she says fiercely. I feel like I didn’t do much, but I know she needed someone to anchor to.
“Of course.” I hug her back. I love this woman as if she were my own mother. We all do.
“They’ve got him now. It’ll be alright, Caitlin. You’ll see.”
As they load him onto the stretcher and Caitlin follows, cars start pulling up the winding driveway. The family’s been notified.
Erin walks over to me, smiling but still a little shocked, I think. We all are. My heart’s still pounding in my chest. “Brilliant, Bridge. You helped him through it until the medics came, didn’t you?”
I shrug. Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like much.
Erin eyes me curiously.
“Bridge, let’s go back to mine for a bit. Caitlin will go with them, and I’ll update Cavin.” She gives me a meaningful look. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
DECLAN
I run my thumb along the rim of my glass. Condensation drips down the side. The music on the dance floor thrums, the black interior of The Craic teeming with life.
Christ, I’ve missed coming here. I love The Craic. What I really want is to bring Bridget here. I will. I'm going to find a way, even if I'm playing with fucking fire.
But I’m nervous as a fucking lad facing the consequences of his actions.
Cavin's been distracted since we got here, and I still haven't gotten to the real reason I asked to speak with him because the moment he walks in, everyone wants a piece of him. The bartender has something to discuss; Lorcan greets him and shows him a problem with the security system, and even Ashland says he's been meaning to catch up. Colm’s quiet, talking to no one and listening to everybody as always.
Before I know it, an hour’s passed, and I’ve barely gotten a word in.
Maybe this wasn't the best place to tell him… Bridget’s carrying my baby.