Blonde, bubbly Peaches had always had a flair for drama — the kind that filled a room even when she was alone. That evening, soft music drifted through her bedroom, fairy lights glowing warmly against the walls. She’d been dancing lazily, laughing at herself in the mirror, caught up in her own playful world.

Then the laughter stopped.

A sharp pressure bloomed in her chest.

At first, she brushed it off — too much excitement, maybe. But the pressure tightened, stealing her breath. The room tilted. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the rug, vision blurring, pulse racing wildly out of rhythm.

Her phone, half-charged on the nightstand, lit up with an incoming c*ll at that exact moment.

Misty Rein.

Misty had a sixth sense for trouble — or maybe it was just love. When Peaches didn’t answer, something in her gut twisted. She tried again. No response.

Misty was already halfway to her car before the third c*ll went to voicemail.

Ten minutes later, siren lights painted the apartment walls red and bl*e. Misty burst through the door with her gear, paramedic instincts fully engaged.

“Peaches!” she called, dropping to her knees beside her.

Peaches was pale, breathing shallow, pulse erratic beneath Misty’s steady fingers.

“Stay with me,” Misty whispered firmly, already positioning her hands.

She began chest compressions — strong, precise, practiced. Counted under her breath. Focused. Professional. But beneath it all, her heart pounded harder than the one she was trying to stabilize.

“Come on, b*by,” she murmured, voice cr*cking just slightly between compressions.

She reached for the AED, tore it open with controlled urgency, and placed the pads exactly where they needed to go.

“Analyzing heart rhythm. Stand clear.”

The mechanical voice felt painfully calm.

“Shock advised.”

Misty’s jaw tightened. “Clear.”

The shock jolted through Peaches’ body.

For a terrifying second, nothing happened.

Then—

A gasp.

A cough.

Peaches’ eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused.

“Misty?” she breathed.

Relief crashed through Misty so hard she nearly laughed and sobbed at the same time. She steadied Peaches, brushing hair back from her forehead.

“I’ve got you,” Misty whispered. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Peaches blinked, weak but smiling faintly. “You always make an entrance.”

Misty let out a shaky breath. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

As the backup crew handled vitals and transport prep, Misty stayed close, fingers laced tightly with Peaches’.

Later, once the chaos settled and Peaches was stable — color returned to her cheeks, heart beating steady and strong — Misty leaned in close.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Misty said softly.

Peaches smiled, eyes warm now instead of frightened.

“Good.”

Misty cupped her face gently and kissed her — not desperate, not wild, but deep and full of relief. It wasn’t about heat. It was about gratitude. About almost losing something precious and getting it back.

Peaches kissed her back with quiet intensity, fingers curling into Misty’s uniform as if anchoring herself to life itself.

The monitors beeped steadily in the background.

Alive.

Together.

And very, very aware of how fragile — and powerful — love can be.

XOXOXO

Kelli

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