Page 133 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

How long has it been? Thirty seconds? A minute? It feels like ten.

“Where are they?” I yell again. Nobody answers, or maybe they do and I just can’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears.

My gaze lands on Glen and I spit out, “You did this. This is on you.”

His jaw trembles like he’s got no idea what I’m talking about. He reaches for her and I pull away. That man doesn’t deserve to even look at her.

“Hold on, Cristina. Help is on the way.”

My voice breaks. Tears blur my eyes.

She cannot die. I won’t let her.

It feels like a hand has my throat, crushing my airway. What do I do? Her lips are becoming more blue. The color’s spreading—mouth to cheeks, cheeks to fingertips. I grab her hand—cold, limp—and see her nail beds turning gray blue.

“Cristina, stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

Her eyelids flutter but don’t open.

“Keep her upright, son,” Willie tells me calmly. “Help her breathe. They’re almost here.”

Right. Almost here. Got to keep my head on straight. She’s going to be okay.

She’s got to be.

Seconds stretch into eternity. Jessie’s on her phone, talking fast. Mina’s shouting orders at someone. The other contestants have backed away, forming a half circle, their faces pale with shock.

Holly’s hand covers her mouth. Even Jace looks like he’s going to throw up.

I should know what to do. There has to be something—CPR? No, she’s breathing. Rescue breaths? Would that help? I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?

The tent flickers. For a second I see hospital walls instead of canvas. White linoleum instead of vinyl flooring. No. Stay present. Cristina needs you present. I blink hard, force the tent back into focus . . .

And the world tips.

The blue lips, the hair pulled back, the closed eyes—Sarah, my sister.

The world crashes down on me. My bones turn to lead. She becomes dead weight in my arms, like chains dragging me down.

My breathing is fast and shallow. My grip weakens.

I’m twelve again. Hospital chair. Machines beeping. Mom’s voice: Promise me you’ll watch her.

I close my eyes for one minute. The beeping changes. Blue lips.

You promised, Rhett.

The words echo, twenty years old but sharp as a knife. I blink and Sarah’s face becomes Cristina’s. Then Cristina’s becomes Sarah’s. Back and forth, blurring together until I don’t know who I’m holding.

Blue lips. Closed eyes. Limp body.

I failed Sarah. I’m failing her again.

“We’ve got this,” someone says from behind me.

Two paramedics appear, and relief floods every part of me.

“Sir, we need to help her.”