Chapter 32 #2
The hives are spreading across my chest and up my neck, an angry red constellation burning beneath my skin. Each breath is shallower than the last.
"IT’S NOT IN HERE!" Bash's voice echoes from the foyer, followed by the sound of running footsteps. He bursts back into the dining room, my purse clutched in his hands, panic etched across his features. "It's not in here. I checked everything."
My heart sinks as another wave of panic hits. I've forgotten it. How could I have forgotten it?
"Charlie," Bash crouches beside me, taking my face in his hands, forcing my increasingly unfocused eyes to meet his. "Where is it? Where's your EpiPen?"
I struggle to form words, each one scraping painfully past my swollen throat. "Suit... case," I wheeze.
"Our bedroom?" He confirms, already standing.
I manage a weak nod.
"I'll be right back." He squeezes my hand and then he's gone, the front door slamming behind him.
"Hold on, sweetheart," my father says, his voice steady despite the terror in his eyes. "Just hold on."
Emily strokes my hair, murmuring reassurances I can barely hear over the rushing in my ears. My body feels distant, disconnected, like I'm floating above the scene watching myself struggle to breathe.
"Should we call an ambulance?" Dad asks, phone already in hand.
"Let's wait for the EpiPen," my mom replies, though I can tell she's weighing the options. "If it doesn't work, then yes."
I catch a glimpse of Ethan still seated at the table, his eyes blown wide just staring at me.
I look over and see Olivia has gotten out of her chair now and has her hand covering her mouth and…
is she crying? The room is dimming at the edges, black spots dancing in my vision as I continue my coughing fit.
"Stay with us," Emily pleads, her voice breaking. "Come on, Charlie, stay with us."
Minutes stretch like hours. I count each labored wheezing breath—in, out, in, out—focusing all my energy on the simple act of drawing air into my lungs.
Finally, the door bursts open again. Bash appears, red-faced and panting, clutching my emergency kit in his hand. He sprints to my side, thrusting it toward my mom.
"Here," he gasps, sweat beading on his forehead.
Mom takes the EpiPen with practiced movements, pulling it from the case and removing the blue safety cap. "This is going to pinch, honey," she warns, though we both know the jab is nothing compared to the feeling of suffocation.
She presses the orange tip against my outer thigh and pushes until it clicks. I barely feel the needle through the numbness that's spread throughout my body. She holds it for a count of three, then removes it, massaging the spot.
"There," she soothes. "Now we wait."
The epinephrine hits my system like a lightning bolt, sending my already racing heart into overdrive. But almost immediately, the vise around my throat begins to loosen, just enough to pull in a real breath.
"That's it," Dad murmurs, still holding my hand. His thumb traces circles on my palm. "Just breathe."
Gradually, the room comes back into focus. The tingling in my lips subsides, and though the hives still burn across my skin, the terrifying sensation of my airway closing has stopped.
"We should still take her to the hospital," Mr. Harper says. "For observation."
Mom nods. "I'll drive. Richard, can you grab her coat?"
As they prepare to move me, I notice Ethan and Olivia whispering to each other, their expressions unreadable. My foggy brain tries to make sense of their behavior, but I'm too exhausted to puzzle it out now.
"I'm coming with you," Bash says firmly, not to me but to my parents. It's not a request.
"Me too." Emily adds.
Mom nods. "Of course."
Emily helps me to my feet, and Bash's arm circles my waist, supporting my weight. I lean into him, grateful for his solid presence.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice still raspy.
He presses his lips to my temple. "Don't thank me. Just be okay."
The cold night air hits my face as we step onto the porch, and I shiver. The epinephrine is making my heart race, but my breathing is already easier. Bash tightens his hold on me.
"Cold?" he asks.
I nod against his chest.
"We'll have you warm soon," he promises, his voice so gentle it makes my chest ache.
My father pulls up in the SUV, and Emily climbs in, moving back towards the third row and Bash carefully places me in the backseat before sliding in beside me. Mom takes the front passenger seat, turning to watch me with worried eyes.
As we pull away from the Harper house, I lean heavily against Bash's side. He places my coat onto me and then wraps me in his arms, and I feel his lips press briefly against the top of my head.
"Thank you," I whisper.
His arm tightens around me and he's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. "I will always be there when you need me, Charlie. Always."
The conviction in his voice makes tears prick at my eyes. I want to say more—but exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. The adrenaline from both the EpiPen and the fear is wearing off, leaving me drained.
Instead, I simply turn my face into his shoulder and close my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a state of half-sleep as we drive toward the hospital.
In that twilight space between consciousness and dreams, one thought circles in my mind: Bash didn't hesitate. Not for a second. When I needed him most, he was there—running through the snow, breaking into a sprint, doing whatever it took to get back to me.
And if that isn't love, I don't know what is.