Chapter 21

GABRIEL

I can’t sleep. All I see when I close my eyes is blood, her blood. We heard the scream and came running just in time to see the love of my life, lying in a pool of blood, and Aubrey sitting on top of an unconscious Brittany Riddell. How the hell she knew where Whit was, I have no idea. Fear ripped straight through me at the thought of possibly losing Whitley.

It’s been three days since the attack, and luckily, the pressures in Whit’s head have slowly started to drop. The extent of the damage is still unknown. She’s stable enough to be transported, even with the ventilator, but having her moved across the country is easier said than done. We have tried everything.

The issue is, Kendrick and I have to be back for the upcoming season, but neither of us wants to leave without her. We didn’t know what to do. That was until yesterday.

Whitley’s phone rang, and it was her new employer, Chanel. Kendrick spoke to her for an extended period of time and told her everything. He even told her what we were trying to do. She told Kendrick to give her a little bit of time, and she would call him back.

Next thing we knew, a specialist in head trauma from California requested a transfer for Whitley as soon as her intracranial pressure is stable. A team is being sent to retrieve her and her family. When Whitley’s phone rang again, it was Chanel calling back. The specialist is her son. She’s going out of her way to make sure Whitley gets home where she belongs.

New York charged Brittany Riddell with attempted murder. They pushed her through the courts fast since she escaped from Alabama’s parole. Since it was her second attempt on Whit’s life, the judge sentenced her to twenty-five to life in a maximum-security psychiatric prison.

The state of Alabama now wants her back for parole violation too. Even after they let her ass go for overcrowding and good behavior. So, she’ll be extradited back to Alabama, to the same overcrowded prison, to finish her original sentence. Then she will be extradited to New York to start her sentence here. Put it this way, Whitley won’t have to worry about that crazy nutjob ever again.

“When was the last time you slept Gabriel?” Mrs. Barrington asks.

“I’m okay, Mrs. Barrington.”

“That’s not what I asked, son.”

“I don’t remember. Every time I close my eyes, I see Whitley in a pool of blood.”

“Oh, my precious boy,” she says, sitting next to me and taking my hand in hers.

“I’m scared, Mrs. Barrington.”

“Of what, child?”

“The doctor said there’s a good chance that if she does wake up, she might have memory loss.”

“Okay.”

“What if she doesn’t remember me?”

“Hogwash. You two have been a part of each other’s lives since y’all were little. She’ll remember you.”

I look at her.

“No. What if she doesn’t remember us?”

“Then you’ll love her from afar and know her love for you is still in there. It’s just hidden, and when you least expect it, she’ll find that love again. When she does, you best be prepared.”

I just nod.

***

It’s amazing what has to be done to transfer Whitley across the states. She is technically stable and breathing on her own now. We were all so grateful when they took her tube out yesterday. We had to wait several days for the swelling to go down to make sure flying would be safe. She still hasn’t woken up yet.

I’m sitting by her bed, holding her hand when a young-looking doctor comes in.

“I’m Dr. Carter Hendrix. It seems we have a mutual person of interest.”

“That is?” I ask.

“My mother, Chanel Hendrix.”

“So, you’re the specialist in head trauma.”

“Yes. We’re almost ready to transport. It’ll take about two hours to get everything together, so it gives your family time to get ready.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No problem. This is what I love to do.”

I immediately get on the phone with everyone. I tell Kendrick to pack our stuff because I’m not leaving Whit’s side. Less than an hour later, everyone is here with their luggage. We wait as they prepare Whitley for transport. Dr. Hendrix comes back and introduces himself.

His team will be here shortly. When they arrive, it will get hectic. Once we meet them at the tarmac, time is of the essence.

He’s not joking. Eight men and women come into the room with him when he says it’s time to move. They all buzz around Whitley like bees, moving lines and bringing in portable machines. They speak in some sort of medical language I don’t understand. We all leave and head to the tarmac.

Somehow, we barely get there before they do. It’s amazing to watch this huge jet be transformed from a comfortable plane into a medical facility. The room in the back is where they have Whitley. It literally looks like a hospital room. Set up with everything they could possibly need. Her bed is secured to the floor, so she doesn’t move an inch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Dr. Hendrix says.

“Gabriel. Gabriel Underwood.”

“I knew you looked familiar. I sure hope y’all make it to the Super Bowl this year. Umm, how is Whitley related to you?”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ll do all we can. You can come back to check on her later, but we need to get buckled up for takeoff.”

I just nod. I lean over and lightly kiss Whit’s dry lips.

“Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper. “You’re almost home. I love you so much, Whit.”