Chapter 40 Stay With Me
Stay With Me
Eli's Search History: how to tell your girlfriend that you're never leaving her side again?
Eli
“Angel?!” I scream into the phone, but there’s no answer. The call ended.
My bike skates across the tarmac, taking corners at speed, blowing through red lights. None of it matters. Only her.
I try calling again. Nothing.
The muscles in my jaw tighten and pulse. A cold sweat lines my skin.
As soon as I’m close enough, I slam on the brakes, not even making it into the drive before I’m throwing myself off the bike, letting it slam to the ground as I take off running.
Fuck. My keys are still in the bike.
I kick my way through the front door, letting it explode off the hinges.
But then I’m coming to a horrified stop. My entire body becomes impossibly still as I take in the sight in front of me with wide darting eyes.
Destruction is everywhere. Picture frames hang askew. Drawers are thrown open. A vase smashed.
But it’s the blood that has my own turning to ice.
“Angel!” I cry out again, my legs unfreezing as I follow the path of crimson spatter into the kitchen.
Red liquid pools by the cabinets, streaks of it marring the counters.
My pulse roars in my throat.
Back in the hall, the blood leads upstairs.
The house is entirely silent. That has my legs turning to lead, each step an arduous task as the weight of fear seeps into my bones.
At the top of the stairs, there’s more destruction. A table overturned, a plant pot tipped over, dirt smudging the carpet.
And more blood.
I take a step and then hear a very distinct meow coming from the main bedroom. I jiggle the doorknob. It’s locked.
The mewing grows louder.
“Watch out!” I call, before I’m kicking at the door.
Wood splinters.
Then Graham is leaping at me. I catch him, clutching him tightly to my chest. “Where’s mummy?” I ask him, stroking his head while I scan the room. It appears untouched, save for the cat scratches marking the walls and flooring.
Keeping hold of Graham, I back out of the room.
The door to the spare room is open. The one I planned to use as a nursery when the time came.
I swallow hard, my mouth dry.
It takes a herculean amount of effort to walk in that direction, every muscle in my body screaming at me that I won’t like what I find.
But it’s Emily’s face in my mind that keeps me moving.
Inside the doorway, I have to grip the wooden frame to keep my legs from giving out at the sight.
Emily stands in the corner of the room, her back pressed against the wall, tremors wracking her frame. Blood—some dried, some not—coats her robe, her hair, her skin.
In front of her, there’s a body.
“Angel?” I coax, keeping my tone soft.
Her eyes, which were locked on the body, snap up, meeting mine.
I take a step closer.
She holds out a shaky hand. “No.” Her voice is cracked and raw. “Don’t.”
I freeze.
Emily sucks in a breath. “I killed her,” she whispers.
“You had to,” I say slowly, trying to soothe her.
She nods jerkily. “She was going to kill Graham.”
The cat in question wriggles in my arms. I release him and he immediately rushes to Emily’s side, butting his head against her.
That little brush of his fur seems to shock Emily from her frozen state.
Her legs give out and she collapses.
I reach her before her head hits the floor.
Her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“Angel. Stay with me.”
No response.
Digging my phone from my back pocket I hit dial on Ty’s number.
“Eli mate, what’s up?”
“Need you to get here. Now.”
I hear movement. “On my way. What’s going on?”
“It’s… It’s Emily. She—Just get here. Bring your kit.”
Swooping Emily into my arms, I carry her down the stairs, and towards the interrogation room. It’s the closest thing to sterile in the house.
Graham tries to follow us, but I have to lock him out.
Laying her onto a metal table, I run my hands over her, assessing her injuries.
A stab wound to the thigh. A graze to her right side. Another nick to her collarbone. Bruises are forming over her arms and shoulders. Her cheek is swollen and red.
Cutting her robe off her, I grab a warm cloth and start cleaning the worst of the blood off.
By the time I’m done, footsteps sound, coming closer.
I whirl around, ready to protect my angel, but it’s Ty’s frame that steps through the door. An angry meow sounds from Graham outside before it shuts closed again.
He’ll have already seen the destruction in the rest of the house, but his eyes widen as he takes in Emily’s limp form.
A growl slips from my throat. “Don’t stare at her.”
His eyes snap up, purposefully not looking at her naked body. I don’t like him seeing her like this. No one should see her but me. But Ty used to be a medic in the Navy. I don’t have the fucking energy to be pissed right now.
“Help her,” I choke out.
Ty immediately gets to work, calling out instructions.
“She’s lucky,” he tells me while stitching the cut to her leg. “Missed anything vital. The blood loss is more concerning, but it’s not life-threatening. She’ll be weak for a while—her body needs time to replace what she’s lost. When she wakes up, get sugar into her. Juice. Honey. Anything sweet.”
Emily groans, the sound quiet, barely audible. I grab her hand, my fingers interlocking with hers.
She blinks groggily. Her brow furrows. “Eli?”
“I’m here, Angel.”
“What happened?” she whispers.
Then she looks down at her injuries. Shivers wrack her.
Ty clears his throat and Emily jolts.
Her eyes bounce between us. “Eli… what’s going on?”
“Do you remember anything?” I ask, cautious.
She bites her lip. Then memories flood in, reading across her face as it crumples.
“Gia,” she murmurs. Then louder: “Is Graham okay?”
“He’s right outside, waiting to see you’re alright.”
She deflates against the metal.
Ty coughs again, gaining both our attention. He looks at me while speaking to Emily. “I need to cover your cuts.”
Emily trembles but nods.
Tyler gets to work, keeping his eyes on task. “The gauze needs to stay on for at least forty-eight hours, and don’t get the wound wet until then.”
As soon as he’s done, he turns around, facing away from Emily. “Will you guys be okay here?”
Emily whimpers.
“I’ve got it. Thanks, man,” I reply to Tyler, before focusing back on Emily. “Let’s get you to bed, Angel.”
She tries to get herself off the table, but her legs are shaky and weak, her knees giving way.
I gather her back into my arms, bridal style, then walk us back up to the main house. Emily cries as she looks out at the broken furniture and blood that coats it. “I ruined your house,” she chokes out.
“Our house,” I correct quickly. “And it’s not ruined.”
Graham trots behind, following us through the wreckage.
I stroke her hair as I stride up the stairs and into our bedroom. Thankfully, this room was untouched, since my angel had the good sense to lock Graham inside.
I pull the duvet back, then deposit Emily under, tucking the cover up to her chin. “You need to rest,” I tell her firmly.
She goes to protests, but then she yawns.
Graham jumps onto the bed, pushing his head against Emily’s skin, as if needing to check for himself that she’s okay. Her hand reaches out to pat his fur as he curls himself into a ball beside her, acting as a guardian.
I press a kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than necessary. “Sleep, Angel.”
She nods as her eyelids drift closed once more.
Ty’s waiting for me downstairs, along with Karl and his partner Mark.
Karl drags me into a half hug. “How is your girl?”
My throat clogs as tears threaten to burn behind my eyes. All I can do is sharply jerk my head down as I step back.
“Tell us what to do,” Ty says.
Pushing away the lingering dread, I bark out instructions. We need to get this place clean and secure.
Ty and I grab cleaning supplies and start scrubbing the blood, bleaching all the surfaces. While we do that, Karl and Mark get a new door installed at the front and clear up some of the debris from the hallway.
It’s not perfect. It doesn’t erase what happened. But it’s a start.
Upstairs in the spare room is the worst. Gianna’s body still lays there in a pool of blood—likely a mixture of hers and Emily’s.
Ty and I lift her together—I secure under her shoulders, while Ty grabs her legs—and carry her down to the interrogation room. We deposit her in a heap in the centre, clear the room, then start the furnace function, letting her body burn.
I stare at the door, wishing I could watch. How dare she break into our home and hurt my angel.
Eventually, we turn away.
The house is finally back in some sort of order. It’s enough for now.
“Let us know if we can help in any other ways,” Karl says on his way out, giving me a pointed look.
The three of them clap me on the back, and then they’re out the door.
Silence descends. And my mind races, no longer distracted.
The what-ifs play through my mind like a bad dream—a nightmare—except it could have so easily have been a reality. One wrong move and Gia could have been the one standing over Emily’s lifeless body. And then I’d be without the two beings that mean the most to me in the entire world.
I should’ve been here. She should never have been alone. That mistake won’t happen again.
My work is a hobby—I don’t need it. Emily would never quit hers, but I can support us easily.
I’ll quit. Sit in the waiting room every day. Close enough. It’s the compromise she’ll accept.
I head upstairs.
Emily sleeps peacefully, her shoulders rising and falling softly, her lips parted just slightly. Graham opens an eye as I close the door but closes it again when he assesses that I’m not a threat.
I shower, scrubbing the day from my skin, then slide into bed beside them.
I don’t touch her—I’m too afraid of hurting her.
So I watch her breathe.
And I don’t sleep.