I react.

I jump over her body and lean my head down over her face to feel for air. To feel anything. I know I won't feel anything, but I have to make sure. I have to know.

When I don't feel her cool breath against my cheek, I tilt her head back. Not thinking twice, I open her mouth and bring mine on top of hers, giving her two short breaths.

Moving my hands to her chest, I place one on top of the other and start pressing into her perfect chest.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ... 20, 21 ... 28, 29, 30.

I bring my mouth back to hers, filling my lungs with air as I do.

Breath.

Breath.

My hands move back to her chest. I press deeper counting out loud with each push.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11...

"Come on!"

12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18...

"Breathe!" I scream, looking down at her face. Her body jerks with each movement.

19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26...

"Come on, Aundrea! Breathe!"

27, 28, 29, 30...

Breath.

Breath.

I repeat this pattern over and over again until I lose count on how many cycles I've done. I can hear cracks in her chest with each compression I do. I know I've already broken a rib or two, and with each additional crack I know more are breaking. I keep saying, "I'm sorry" each time I press deeper into her chest and with each additional crack that fills the room.

"Come on, baby. Come on!"

I know I can't keep doing this. Not alone. But I'm too scared to stop. I don't know how long she has been like this, and I know every second counts. Stopping means less air. Less of a chance to bring her back to me.

I realize that sooner or later, I'm going to need help. Pausing, I look down on the nightstand for her phone. I fumble with the phone as I get into the call screen, exiting away from the two missed calls from Genna. I dial a number that has been programmed in my brain since I was four years old: 911.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"My wife ... I- I need help! She needs help! She's not breathing!" I cry into the phone at the top of my lungs. I don't know why I am screaming. I know the operator can hear me just fine, but a part of me thinks they'll know it's an emergency if I scream. That whoever is on the other line will hear my distress and it'll somehow make things happen faster.

"Sir, I need you to stay calm. Did she fall? Is she hurt? How long has she been unconscious?"

Too many f.u.c.king questions! Just send someone to me! To her!

"No ... I don't know ... I woke up and she wasn't breathing. She isn't breathing! I tri- I tried CPR. Please, you have to-"

I can't finish. I drop the phone and fall to my knees. I know it's too late. I know she's gone, and it f.u.c.king hurts. I can feel the knife stabbing into my chest. With each sharp jab I fall forward onto the floor, clutching at the sheet that hangs off the bed, pulling it into my chest and crying harder.

I don't listen to the voice coming through the phone. I claw at my chest, trying to take whatever is stabbing me out. No matter how hard I try, nothing comes out. It just keeps coming.

Stabbing.

Piercing.

Cutting.

I force myself to stand and bring myself to the bed where Aundrea is. I grab her body into my arms, pulling her to me as I sob.

She doesn't feel warm.

She's motionless as I bring my head to the crook of her neck.

She still smells the same. Like honey and sweet pears.

I cry into her neck rocking us back and forth as I pray. "Please G.o.d, please let her wake up. Aundrea! Please, baby, open your beautiful eyes. You can't leave me. Not like this. Please don't leave me. I need you. I need you. Please don't go, Aundrea! I love you so f.u.c.king much. I need you with me. Open your eyes!"

I'm crying so d.a.m.n hard that I don't even hear the paramedics as they force their way into our apartment and into our bedroom.

One minute I'm holding Aundrea, and the next strong arms are pulling me away from her. I scream her name and start to lash out at whoever has their arms around me, moving me away from her body. The solid grip tries to pull me out of the bedroom, but I lash my arms out, grabbing onto the doorframe and stopping us. I can hear the cracks of the wood holding our weight as I try to force myself from not moving.

"No! Please! Please, she needs me! I need to be with her!"

All I see is Aundrea being moved and men hovering over her, calling out words I don't understand. I don't pay attention to how many people are in my room. All I focus on is her and trying to get a glimpse of her body every few seconds.

After a while, I give in and allow my weight to fall back on whoever is holding me up. The tears cloud my vision so that I can no longer see what's unfolding before my eyes. When I hear a man say, to someone coming through the other end of a radio, "Dead on arrival," I lose it.

Her scent brings me back to the present and, when I feel as if I've absorbed every bit of it that may linger in the room, I nod.

There are unspoken words between Genna and me as we make our way down the stairs and to the car.

Words of encouragement.

Words of strength.

Words of mourning.

When Jason turns off the car in the church parking lot, no one moves. Jason and Genna remain seated up front with their hands tangled together, and her parents sit in the back next to me.

I only saw Aundrea's dad break down in public once: at the hospital. Aundrea's mom, on the other hand, cries frequently. She's always carrying a tissue with her no matter the time or place, even when she's eating. It's as if everything reminds her of Aundrea. She regularly walks around with her eyes swollen and red.

Genna's been holding it together pretty well during the day. She lets out a few tears, but she mostly waits until she's behind closed doors to let it all out. I walked in on her in Aundrea's old room the day after Aundrea pa.s.sed away. She was lying in the center of her sister's neatly made bed, clutching one of her shirts tightly to her chest and shuddering with tears. Her cries grew louder when she felt me on the bed beside her. I don't know where Jason was, but I knew she needed someone. I rested my hand on her back, rubbing gently, which only made her cry harder. We lay there, with the smell of Aundrea between us, and cried together. I'd never cried so d.a.m.n hard in my life.

Jason moves first, reaching for the door handle. Like dominoes, we all fall behind him.

Entering the church is unreal. As I walk toward the sanctuary there are faces, eyes, handshakes, pats on the back, soft cries, and words of sympathy. I don't recognize most of them, but everyone recognizes me.

My breath catches as I see the pink and white casket sitting front and center in the church. Photos line the wall, of Aundrea with her friends and family, Aundrea at school, on vacations, and with me. Next to the casket is an 8x10 photo of her. She's sitting outside, in a beach chair, holding her Kindle and sporting a huge smile. There is so much life in that photo. She's absolutely stunning. It's my favorite photo of her. It was taken the day I asked her to marry me. We were on vacation in Florida with both our families. Her strawberry blonde hair had grown to her shoulders and it was blowing freely in the wind. I hadn't planned on asking her that day, but when I looked over at her, I just knew there would never be more perfect moment, or place.

I make my way up the aisle. There'll never be the perfect time to say your goodbyes or pay your respects to the person you planned on spending your life with, but I know I'll regret it later if I don't do it. It takes all my strength to move one foot in front of the other, making my way closer and closer until I'm in front of her. Kneeling in front of the casket, I reach inside to rest my hands on hers.

I start to tremble as I try to find my words. My mouth opens and closes multiple times before the lump finally settles, allowing me to find my voice.

"Aundrea, if I could just see you smile one more time. Hear your voice. Your laugh. I think I would be able to try and move forward. I would do anything to go back in time to get just one more second with you. To touch your lips for just one more kiss. To hold you one more time in my arms.

"I promise I will always treasure the time we had. I will cherish all the memories you gave me. Most importantly, I promise to do what you asked of me. It won't be easy, but I will do anything for you. In this life or after. You, Aundrea Leigh Jackson, are my soul mate. I will see you again. I love you forever and for always."

I begin to shake uncontrollably with sobs. I feel arms come from behind me, wrapping me tightly in a safe embrace, soothing me. I swear I can hear her all around me, saying my name, telling me it's okay-saying she loves me.

"Parker?"

My eyes fly open at the sound of her voice. My body is soaked and the sheets are clinging to me. I can feel the sweat dripping down my cheeks, mixed with the fresh taste of tears. My chest feels so tight, and I can still feel the lump in my throat from crying.

"Aundrea?"

"Shh ... I'm here. I think you were having that dream again."

It's haunted me since the day Aundrea told me about her heart condition. This dream has become my fear.

My worst enemy.

My nightmare.

"Aundrea," I say her name again with a sigh, pulling her pet.i.te frame closer to me. "I just need a minute. I need to hold you."

She wraps her arms around me, snuggling closer as she speaks softly into my ear, "I'm here, Parker. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Yet.

Acknowledgements.

Please get comfortable while you read my novella of thanks. There are so many people I need to give a shout out to, so please bear with me.

In September of 2012 I attended the TFEiC Book Signing at the Hilton Palmer Hotel in Chicago, along with many other avid readers. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought I would end up having one of the best nights-turned best weekends-imaginable. I owe this book to three people who changed my life that weekend: Jillian Dodd, Brandee Engle Veltri, and Jenn Sterling. It was your inspiration that allowed me to turn What's Left of Me from a single chapter that was merely an idea, to words written on paper. Meeting you three and spending the weekend with you changed me completely.

Jenn Sterling: In October of 2012 I told you I was thinking of writing a book and your exact words to me were: "Awesome! Go for it! You have NOTHING to lose!!!!!! Starting is the hardest part-and then you'll see where it takes you. If it's your true calling, you'll know it." It's those words that gave me the courage to sit at the computer and type my first word. Thank you.

Brandee Engle Veltri: I am beyond blessed to have your friendship and support. You are an amazing, kind, trustworthy, and pa.s.sionate woman. Thank you for all of your advice, encouragement, late night talks, and, most importantly, your friendship. I am forever indebted to you for all of your hard work in helping get the word out for this book. Your dedication and time spent helping me with the cover reveal, blog tour, and beta reading will never be forgotten.

Jillian Dodd: There are simply no words to describe how I feel about you. If I look up the word Superwoman in the dictionary, your name is next to it. You have introduced me to a world that I never thought imaginable and, through The Keatyn Chronicles, I have built lasting friendships with so many women around the globe. I owe you so much. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking me under your wing, believing in me, and, most importantly, for your friendship. You inspire me.

Bandit Publishing: Thank you for believing in me, this story, and these characters that I've become very protective of. I couldn't imagine working with anyone else.

Beth Suit: Thank you for all the time and dedication you put into this story. You have an eye for the "little things" and I appreciate all your words in making this a better story!

Jennifer Roberts-Hall: You are the queen of turning a good sentence into a great one. You brought this story from its very raw form and helped create a masterpiece. Thank you for teaching me that commas are not my friend. I also thank Carter for his effort at helping mommy edit.

Regina Wamba with Mae I Design: I love you. You have a true gift and I am so, so blessed I got to work with you. I love this cover so much! Thank you for putting up with my "picky" moments. All I needed was you.

To my real life Genna: You are the sister I never had and I love you more than words can say. Thank you for not laughing in my face that night in my kitchen when I told you I was going to write a book. You have been nothing but supportive of me and I'm the luckiest person to call you my best friend and sister. Your constant support and love mean the world to me.

My dear friend, "Half": You're my rock star! You push me to be a better person. Thank you for everything.

Bobbi Smith: Thank you for the late night Facebook chats and being my reading partner in crime. Your words, advice, and hard work mean the world to me. Thank you for being an amazing beta reader and loving Parker just as much as I do!

Amy Harwick: Amy ... Amy ... Amy ... What do I say to the woman who was the best critic I could have ever asked for? This story would not be what it is without your advice and suggestions. You're the pickiest beta reader I have ever met, and I love you for it. Thank you for believing in me and this story. I cannot wait to hug you in person someday.

Bianca Ruffner: You were the first beta to give me thoughts as you read, and the first reader to make me cry. I'm so lucky to have met you and I appreciate all the time you took reading this story and sharing your thoughts with me. Thank you.

Amy Sanford: I got so lucky when I met you! You are the sweetest woman ever! Thank you for all of your love with this story and, most of all, your support. You're a great friend!

Nicole Olson: You have been my rock to lean on through this entire process. Thank you for listening to all my ideas and brainstorming with me, answering all my medical questions, and being the biggest supporter out there. Most of all, thank you for sharing Katie's story with me. I know she's looking down and is proud of you.

Amy Cosse: Thank you for taking the time to beta read this story. Your comments, suggestions, and kind words helped this story unfold. You have an eye and talent for what makes a great story, and I thank you for being a part of mine.

Mint Martijn Bkk: Oh, Mint! You read the roughest version ever, and I thank you for putting up with my misspelled words and missing commas. Thank you for being the bluntest beta reader and giving it to me straight. This story is all the better because of you!

Kenzie Dodd: You have become like a little sister to me. How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you? Thank you for wanting to read this story and being a great beta reader. I can't thank you enough for all your support, phone chats, and advice. Thank you for introducing me to cotton candy grapes. I will never look at a green grape the same.

Natasha Bennett: You, my beautiful woman, are so gifted. Thank you for beta reading this story, loving it, and sharing it. I am so lucky to have met you. Thank you for all you have done in helping to spread the word about this story. And, Junior, thank you for taking the picture of Natasha reading this book!

Lisa Schilling Hintz: Thank you for your amazing friendship, kind words, and never-ending support. I appreciate it so much!

Con Copon: Thank you for your continuing support, friendship, and late night talks.

Trudy Stiles: Thank you for pushing me, encouraging me, and being my person to lean on for support. You are a talented woman and I'm so lucky to have you in my life.

Mia Asher: Thank you for your friendship, trust, and advice. You were there for me when I needed to talk out my story, and set me back in the right direction. I am honored to call you a friend.

To A.L. Jackson: I look up to you. Thank you for your love and, most importantly, your friendship.

To all the bloggers: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support, encouragement, and love of reading. I appreciate every single one of you and can't thank you enough for all the hard work you do!!

My parents: Thank you for raising me to be the best person I can be. You always said I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Well, I did! I love you both so much!!

Kurtis, my BIG brother: Here is to your "seeing to believing." I love you.

To my wonderful husband: You gave this story wings to fly. You were the one who finally gave me that push to sit down and write. You never complained when I was at the computer or when I asked you for advice. You are my other half in every way possible. Thank you for being the best supportive husband and father while I wrote this book.