Oh God. Oh God. The pain. Sarah lost consciousness, but it couldn’t have been for very long because the puddle of blood around Colt was only about the size of a dinner plate. But it was growing. Fast. Spreading across her blond wood floor and running in lines along the seams of the planks.
No, no, no. Panicked and disoriented, Sarah’s eyes swept the room for Mary. Thank fuck. She was gone.
Sarah tried to sit up, but the burning in her stomach, the agony wouldn’t allow it.
She looked down at her blood-soaked T-shirt, unsure of what to do. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back. She couldn’t put pressure on the wound, she couldn’t get up and yell for yelp, she couldn’t dial 911.
Colt groaned on the floor only a few feet away.
“Colt? Colt? Can you hear me? You have to call for help.”
“Fuck…” he groaned. “Fuck…she shot me.”
“I know, Colt. I know it hurts, but you have to do it. I can’t get up.”
Colt looked at her, his eyes glazed over. “She shot you, too?” There was a bitter anger in his low voice.
“Yes. Hurry, Colt.” If they didn’t get help, they would both bleed to death. At best they had minutes.
Flat on his back, Colt managed to roll to his side. Sarah could see the giant hole in his shoulder above his heart, running with blood. He managed to get his right hand into his jeans pocket and slide it out. “Fuck.” He threw his head back for a moment, panting hard. “I can’t remember my code.”
Sarah stared at him, her brain racing. “You don’t need it. Hit the emergency button.”
Wincing, he nodded and held the phone to his face, blinking and straining to focus on the screen. “Got it.” He put the phone to his ear. It didn’t take more than a moment for him to say the words we’ve been shot. He even remembered her address. “Yes, the shooter is gone,” he mumbled to the person on the phone. “Her name was Mary.” He listened. “Thank you.” He dropped his hand with the phone in it and stared up at the ceiling, his breathing fast yet labored. Still, everything moved in slow motion, a blurry dream.
We have to stay awake. We have to. The pain was so intense, Sarah could feel her body wanting to shut down.
“Colt? If we get through this, you owe me an autographed poster. I want the one where you’re shirtless.” She remembered seeing it once at a Walmart. Right next to a One Direction poster on those racks that reminded her of the things they used for hanging rugs at the carpet store. She also remembered thinking how if she was sixteen, she would paper her room with pictures of Colt Young. He was that beautiful.
Colt chuckled weakly. “If you don’t die on me, you can have anything you like, Sarah.”
“Awesome,” she grumbled. “I think I want your leather pants.” She sighed. “You look so sexy in them.”
“Still seeing me as a piece of meat?” A weak smile flickered across his parted lips.
“Yes. Always and forever. My meat,” she mumbled. “My Colt.”
A silent moment passed, and she wondered how much longer she had. The wetness beneath her felt warm and cold at the same time. Fresh blood cooling.
“I’m sorry I didn’t sleep with you again, Sarah.”
“Me too.” Now that she was dying, she suddenly regretted the fact that her circumstances—their circumstances—had gotten in the way of ever having a relationship. She and Colt had chemistry. And it was real. But so were the consequences of dating. Why couldn’t things have been different? Why couldn’t he have walked into someone else’s courtroom?
I guess none of that matters now.
“I’m sorry for what I said, Colt. I think you’re wonderful. Intense, talented, smart, and wonderful. And I’d gladly fuck you for your big brain.”
“I knew it. No woman can resist my giant head. Score a point for me,” he whispered.
“Yes. Point for you.” Oh, God. Oh, God. The pain and cramping worsened, feeling like her own body was panicking and unsure what to do. Fight, relax, or let go.
He mumbled softly, “Then you owe me a date. If I live.”
How could this have happened? How? “You can’t die, Colt. Too many people would be heartbroken without you in the world. Me included.”
“I am pretty awesome.”
She grinned, unable to laugh. “Sing. Something to keep me awake.” And keep himself awake, too.
“I can’t…it hurts too much…”
“Stop whining and sing.”
“You’re so bossy,” he muttered.
“You better get used to it. Because if we get through this, we are going on that date.” Hell, the whole world would now know they knew each other.
“I think I’d like that.” With a breathy voice, Colt started whispering a song. Sarah could hardly hear, but she realized what it was.
There was once a judge named Sarah, who was fierce and smart, I am told…
“Oh no. Please stop.” She was in so much pain. “It hurts to laugh.”
Silence filled the room.
“Colt?” She looked over at him, and he was out. “Fuck. Colt! Please don’t die on me! Don’t die!”
The sound of sirens out on the street poured in from the open front door, filling the room.
“Hurry,” she whispered, the tears streaming down her face. “Please hurry.”