34. Maggie
Chapter thirty-four
Maggie
T he house was quiet when I snuck through the front door.
It wasn’t late—just a little after ten—but Jack had an early game the next morning and three barns to check on afterwards.
He needed rest. I meant what I said earlier about waiting for him to tell me what was going on.
If he needed time, I could give it to him.
If he needed space, I’d rip myself away from him no matter how bad it hurt.
I padded up the wooden stairs, but the closer I got, the more I thought I heard something coming from our bedroom.
I couldn’t tell what it was. My gait increased as a weight spread throughout my chest, but I couldn’t be prepared for what happened next.
The door to mine and Jack’s bedroom creaked as I pushed it open in search of him.
The bed was still made, with a few t-shirts spread over the covers.
The floor had several unmatched shoes leading to the closet. Then, the noises again.
Deep heaving breaths mixed with shivering groans emerged from the closet as I flew to the doorway where my worst nightmare waited for me.
There, on the floor, lay Jack, pale and sweaty, his body tremulous.
His perfect chestnut eyes were squeezed shut as he called out to someone who seemed miles away.
The shirt he wore before I left was ripped from his body, lying on the floor next to him, soaked with sweat.
What the hell was happening? Was my husband dying right in front of me? Was this the end?
My heart turned to a heavy stone in the middle of my chest, bringing me to my knees in front of him.
I blinked a dozen times and pinched myself to make sure this was real.
I reached out to touch Jack’s arm and jumped when it felt ice cold against my fingertips.
Lungs working overtime, I tried to calm myself enough to enable my quivering hand to reach for my cell phone.
Mindlessly typing in my passcode and dialing 911, audible sobs began to escape my throat.
“Nine-one-one, what is the address of your emergency?” an operator asked.
How the hell could she be so calm in this situation? Jack was nearly lifeless beneath me, and there was nothing I could do about it but wait until the paramedics arrived.
“M-my husband is…” I stuttered through the rhythm of my breath catching. What was he? He wasn’t convulsing enough to be seizing, but could it be a heart attack? A stroke? Cardiac arrest? “I need an ambulance right now! I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”
“Okay, can you please give me the address? I’m going to send an ambulance right away,” she responded dutifully.
My eyes were glued to Jack as I raced through my mind to remember the four fucking numbers that would get Jack the help he needed.
After I rattled off the address and told her I needed them here yesterday, she asked me to stay on the phone with her.
“Is he bleeding at all? What is his condition?”
“H-he doesn’t look like it,” I quivered. My mouth felt like sandpaper as I attempted to assess my everything in front of me. I couldn’t form words. I couldn’t stay calm.
I didn’t think I could be a mom either. But Jack pushed me to believe otherwise.
Jack .
“He’s shaking, and his skin is paper-white.”
The sound of typing on a keyboard followed my words. “And what is his breathing like? Slow, heavy?”
“Fast,” I barked. “And really heavy. His whole body is heaving.” He looked like he was drowning. Like there wasn’t oxygen surrounding us. My eyes helplessly pleaded for him to come back to me.
He’s not even conscious.
“Okay, just stay on the line with me. First responders will be there soon. Try to stay calm.”
“Oka-y.” I sobbed.
What felt like an eternity passed before the sound of sirens came into earshot, and my breathing slowed only a sliver. This was it. The paramedics were going to do their thing and bring him back to me.
My Jack.
My fucking everything.
“Upstairs!” I yelled when I heard the front door burst open by force. “We’re upstairs on the left!”
An army of footsteps followed as a group of paramedics invaded the bedroom. I held tight to Jack’s still-pale arm with a prayer on my lips that he would be okay. That all of this was just some freak accident that would never happen again.
I loved this man more than anything.
I would give my life to save his.
***
I had never been inside a hospital waiting room before. Despite the many falls both my dad and I experienced in our years of riding horses, none of them ended with us riding away in an ambulance.
I always thought going to a hospital after getting a little banged up on the polo field was unnecessary. But I never thought I would see my husband lying on the floor of our closet with no visible bodily harm, and still see him ride away in an ambulance.
Watching the flashing red lights of the vehicle in front of me as I followed them down the highway to the nearest hospital was the worst drive I’d ever made—and I had driven twelve-horse trailers through a blizzard.
Squinting my eyes under the fluorescent lighting of the emergency room waiting area was head-splitting.
Waiting to hear whether or not my husband was okay was the most agonizing forty-five minutes of my life.
“Ma’am?” A nurse approached me as I sat on the edge of a chair, waiting for a consensus on Jack’s condition.
It felt childish to be tucked into the fetal position in a public place.
My hands wrung with nerves as I lifted my eyes to meet those of a man in his mid-forties.
Scruff covered the bottom half of his face, shielding me from any hint of an expression, good or bad.
It felt like hours since I had been sitting here, waiting for answers, and everything else my vision was too blurred to see.
The man could probably tell how in shock I still was, so he knelt on one knee to face me. “How are you doing?”
I shook my head, unable to speak. All I wanted to hear was that Jack was okay.
“He had a panic attack, which often involves the symptoms you described. He calmed down while we were taking his vitals. No signs of anything more serious, but then again, sometimes these attacks can come up out of nowhere.”
The heavy stone in my chest melted into a puddle of relief as soon as the words left his mouth. Worry still resided, but the impending feeling of doom slowly dispersed. An emotional sigh left my lips.
He panicked.
And I wasn’t there.
I had no idea panic attacks could display such violent symptoms and blatant
dissociation with the world. I thought he was fucking dying .
“He’s been dealing with a lot of stress recently.” I was surprised at the normality of my voice, despite the situation.
He nodded. “That’s usually the case. Has this happened to him before?”
“Yes, when we first moved here a few months ago.” It all built up inside of him, and he refused to ask anyone for help, just like the first time.
“Were the symptoms similar?”
“They were more severe this time,” I clutched a shirt of Jack’s that I brought with me. “It was the middle of the night. He was sitting up in bed and breathing really hard. I rushed in to make sure he was okay, but it took a little while before he registered my being there.”
“And any times before that?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of, but he’s dealt with anxiety throughout his life.”
He paused for a moment, writing on a clipboard before answering. “Okay, thank you for that information.” The millions of questions that ran through my head slammed on the brakes when he looked up at me and said, “He’s awake and asking for you.”
Jack
My vision was just becoming unblurred when the rush of events that had just happened came back to me. Muffled voices were speaking my name, and a few others conversed incoherently in the background, but my focus was on one person and one person only.
Maggie.
“I need to see her.” My voice sounded slurred, unfamiliar, weak. I was never weak—never to anyone on the outside. Maggie slid through the cracks once, and I was mortified she saw me in such a vulnerable state. But now, more people were seeing it. Strangers. And all I wanted was my comfort blanket.
“She’s right outside. We’ll grab her for you,” a voice said.
Another voice spoke up. A woman. “Just stay calm and still. She’ll come over here.”
Bodies cleared out of the way as my vision came back completely, only to face the most beautiful, broken woman standing in front of me. Dark, wavy hair and sunken eyes, dark as the forest at night. While her tanned face had paled, and her entire demeanor was shaken up, she was still my strong girl.
Mine.
“Jack,” she cried as she hurried to my bedside. Her arms wrapped around my neck, enveloping me in her warm, cider scent. She was everything I needed. Whatever was going through my mind before I blacked out disappeared. I just wanted her.
I cradled her head with my hands when she pulled back to look at me.
Her eyes, filled with concern, searched every nook of my face before frantically checking my shoulders and chest. She was such a caretaker.
In everything she did. She cared for me like I was hers, just like she was going to care for our child.
God, our baby.
It hit me. I almost took off for a few weeks and left our fucking baby . The woman crying in my arms. The woman I would love for the rest of my life. What in the fucking universe convinced me to go through with this?
No one else mattered anymore. It was Maggie and our baby who would be the center of my universe.
Fuck polo. Fuck my absent mother. Fuck every possible thing that tried to drag me away from what I loved most in the world.
When I was younger, I lived by leaving when things got too serious.
Religiously. But that wasn’t happening this time.
I would fight for this woman for the rest of my life. Religiously .
“Maggie.” I let out a breath that softened my chest.