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Abandoning the wine, Harlow sprinted around the bar, throwing aside anyone or anything that got in her way.
It wasn’t until she collapsed onto her knees at Ryske’s side that she started to hear again. Grabbing up his hand and clutching it to her chest, she fixated on his eyes, ignoring how Bale ripped open Ryske’s shirt and Clyde on the phone to 9-1-1.
Although his lips were moving, she didn’t even attempt to decipher Ryske’s specific words. Without hearing them, she knew he’d be trying to give instructions not to call 9-1-1, just like he had on the night they’d met. But if 9-1-1 was going to save his life, she wasn’t going to express his wishes for him.
Stroking his hair from his face, she bowed to kiss him. “You’re going to be okay, Crash,” she said, taking his hand to her mouth.
