The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Abigail

"Finn!" I screamed in horror, watching the bullet tear through his shoulder and into the wall behind him. A spurt of red blood shot from where the bullet had grazed him.

I ran toward him, the chaos of shouting men swirling around us.

Finnegan was staggering back, his hand clamped to his left shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers.

I crashed into him, my hands immediately replacing his, pressing hard against the wound to stop it from bleeding.

Warm blood flooded my palms. It was sticky, and I almost retched at the sight. I could feel his blood, his life, pumping out against my skin.

Oh god, not again.

"Paramedics!" I shouted. "Somebody get a fucking paramedic!"

"Abby," Finnegan hissed. His free arm came around me instantly, pulling me against his uninjured side. "I’m okay, baby. It’s just a graze. Look at me."

I glanced up through the tears already streaming down my cheeks.

"Don’t lie to me," I choked out, pressing harder. "You’re bleeding all over the place. Finn, please,"

"Sir, we need you to sit down." A young police officer materialized beside us while the rest of the cops tried to restrain a screaming Devin.

"Where are the paramedics?!"

"The ambulance is on its way, ma’am, please be patient,"

"Be patient?" I gasped, incredulous. "He’s fucking dying!"

Finnegan winced. "I’m not dying. Come on, let’s get back to helping your grandparents—"

Gramps made a horrible choking sound behind us, and Meemaw screamed. "Gerald? Gerald, what’s happening?!"

I whipped around to see he had slumped against the chair he sat on. His head had fallen back, his mouth open as he wheezed. His right hand clutched his chest, fingers digging into his shirt, and his lips... oh god, his lips were turning blue.

"Gramps!" I scrambled up, almost falling. "Gramps, no... no, please!"

I dropped to my knees next to him, my hands hovering uselessly. They were covered in Finnegan’s blood, slick and sticky, and I didn’t know what to do. CPR?

I was panicking, sobbing, my vision blurring as I pressed my ear to his chest.

"Abigail." Finnegan’s voice cut through the static in my brain.

He shook off the police officer who had tied his arm with a ripped cloth, but it didn’t stop the blood running down his arm, soaking his shirt and dripping from his fingertips onto the concrete.

The impossible, insane man lifted my grandfather into his arms. Gramps wasn’t a small man.

But Finnegan hoisted him up like he weighed nothing, cradling him against his chest, his injured arm tucked tight to keep Gramps secure, his face white with pain.

"Finn!" I scrambled to my feet, reaching for him. "Your shoulder, you’ll have a tear, please,"

Meemaw sobbed behind me, trying to get to her feet, but she was shaking too much to manage it on her own.

"We’ll get him to the car," he gritted out, already moving toward the door. "Get the car, please, Abby,"

My legs burned, my chest heaved, but I ran ahead of him, past the officers securing Devin. I burst through the warehouse door into the cold night air, scanning the chaos of emergency vehicles around the place.

"Connor!" I screamed, spotting the SUV near the fence. "Connor, open the back!"

Connor was already moving, leaping from the driver’s seat, yanking the rear door open. "What happened?"

"His heart, it’s his heart," I gasped, turning back, my hands outstretched.

Finnegan emerged from the warehouse with Gramps limp in his arms. Blood now soaked the entire left side of his shirt, running down in rivulets. His face glistened with sweat as he gritted his teeth.

He settled Gramps into the car while I went back for Meemaw. After helping Meemaw into the backseat, I climbed in after, sliding across the leather, cradling Gramps’s head in my lap.

His skin was clammy, his breathing shallow. I stroked his hair and whispered nonsense, promises, prayers.

"Hold on, Gramps. We’re going to the hospital. Just hold on, please,"

"Gerald, please hold on. Please!" Meemaw cried.

Finnegan dropped into the passenger seat, and Connor started the engine. The SUV peeled out, gravel spraying into the air. I heard the sirens behind us.

"How’s his breathing?" Finnegan asked, glancing back.

"It’s sh-shallow," I stammered, my fingers finding Gramps’s pulse. "Finn, he’s so cold. He’s so cold. How are you? Oh my god, you’ve lost like a gallon of blood,"

"No, I haven’t," he rasped huskily.

"Yes, you have," I cried. "I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t lose you and Gramps."

We arrived at the nearest hospital. Nurses and doctors rushed out with gurneys to receive us, and Meemaw and I clutched each other as they wheeled Gramps away. We tried to follow, but a nurse caught my arm.

"Ma’am, are you injured? You’re covered in blood!"

"It’s not mine." I shook my head. "It’s my boyfriend’s. He was shot. Finnegan... where’s Finnegan?"

"Right here."

He was behind me suddenly, his good arm sliding around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

"Sir, you need to come with me," another nurse insisted, gesturing toward a wheelchair. "You’re losing blood,"

"In a minute," he grunted. "Take care of the elderly first-"

"NO!" I yelled, pointing at the wheelchair. "You get your ass into that wheelchair right now, Finnegan Wolfe, or I’ll whoop your ass!"

His green eyes flickered with surprise. He turned me in his arms, his right hand coming up to cup my face, smearing blood across my cheek, before he grumbled "Fine" and dropped into the wheelchair, breathing heavily.

"But she’s coming with me," he hissed at the nurse, grabbing my hand. "She’s not leaving my side."

My heart swelled until it physically hurt, pressing against my ribs, making it hard to breathe. I gripped his hand tighter and glanced back to see Meemaw had gone with Gramps as well.

"Sir, only family is allowed-"

"She’s my family, my woman," he retorted weakly, and the dam of tears I was holding back finally burst.