2. Nolan
Chapter 2
Nolan
T he calm atmosphere of our firehouse breakfast shatters when the blaring alarm goes off, stopping us in our tracks.
“Attention stations 2, 10, and 11 fire rescue. Special attention TRT teams. Respond to an accident near Harry Truman Parkway at the Whitefield exit. Two vehicle accident. One rollover, wedged in the trees. Other vehicle minor damage to sides and front. Unknown injuries. Time out 08:23.”
Dispatch pauses briefly before repeating the message while we get ourselves ready. Breakfast will have to wait until later. It’s a truth that first responders have come to accept—some days are like that.
While we’re leaving, I secure my seatbelt when dispatch breaks in with an update.
“Attention to those responding to Harry Truman. Update. Vehicle in trees reports injuries. Legs trapped. Driver’s drifting in and out of consciousness. Vehicle unstable. Please be advised traffic is backing up. Use the Whitefield exit to gain access. Off-duty police officer on scene. Time out 08:28.”
Our captain responds, “Attention dispatch. TRT unit 2 entering Harry Parkway now. No other way around. Traffic is cooperating. Advise the officer our ETA is five. Time out 08:30”
“Attention TRT unit 2. Officer has been advised. EMTs just arrived. Update. Passenger in minor damage vehicle doesn’t require medical. Other vehicle passenger coherent but in need of an extraction. Vitals stable. Vehicle has shifted and now stabilized on its side. Time out 08:36.”
My leg trembles from the rush of adrenaline helping me keep my mind firmly in the present. Memories I prefer to forget always resurface when responding to motor vehicle accidents. I already feel the weight of it approaching, looming over me, knowing tonight those demons will haunt me. Since this one is worse than most, I’ll need time to regroup before heading home to the girls. A quick visit to the cemetery will be added to my routine.
“You good, Archer?” my partner, Sam, asks keeping a close eye on me.
“Fine.” I stretch my neck, trying to get a better view from my seat in the back. “I have visual.”
“What are we looking at?” Mitch, our unit driver, pipes in.
“Stabilizers. Jaws. Chainsaw to remove a few branches,” I report. “Might be tricky, but nothing the two of us can’t manage.”
“Damn straight.” Sam shifts in his seat, getting ready to jump out as soon as we reach our destination.
As a first responder, one crucial skill is maintaining a calm demeanor in high-pressure situations. A steady, quick pace is more beneficial than rushing, as rushing leads to chaos. Having been on the job for ten years now I’m still working on it.
Mitch parks at an angle on the side of the road, forcing traffic to move to the far lanes to give us more room to do our jobs. Parking behind us, our captain heads to the back of the truck, where Sam and I are assembling the gear.
Shari, the newest Technical Rescue Team member, swiftly makes her way down to the vehicle, eager to offer a more accurate assessment. On arrival, she calls in a radio report. “Female driver. Laceration on her left leg. Her dress near injury soaked in blood. Paramedic applied a pressure bandage, but because of the angle she’s resting it’s only slowing it down. Her left arm appears wedged against the door, and the steering wheel’s pressing against her chest. The good news is that she’s awake and alert.” The squeak of metal echoes through the radio, telling us she opened one of the vehicle’s doors. “Hey, honey. How you doing?”
My head jerks toward the mangled mess when I hear a familiar voice respond. “Peachy. This is exactly how I planned to spend my morning.”
The dark gray Acura my spunky neighbor drives, rests on its side, barely recognizable. She bought it less than two months ago after a big promotion. Her twin boys are not allowed inside unless they’re squeaky clean. I’ve heard her warn them more than once that if they get it dirty, she’ll make them clean it with a toothbrush. It always made me chuckle, because teenage boys can make a mess without even trying.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath. Dragging the equipment down the embankment, I keep my pace steady. Once I’m there, I drop it and make a quick decision. “Burrow, I’m taking point. You get your ass down here and help Crosby and Bentley.”
“Problem?” Sam Bentley raises an eyebrow while lowering his body to inspect the vehicle’s stability.
“Hold tight, honey, I gotta see what’s crawled up Archer’s backside. Don’t go anywhere.” Shari sets her feet on the ground and shoots me a piercing look. “What am I missing? I checked the vehicle. It’s stable.”
I don’t bother explaining myself and point toward Sam. “Do what he tells you to do.”
Circling around her, I hoist my body up. My grip on the passenger door tightens as I stare down at the woman returning my gaze. “Bethany?”
“Seriously?” Her huff is quickly followed by a wince, indicating discomfort. “I was hoping to see your sister, not your smug face. What do you want?”
My sister is a paramedic. Bethany knows this because Cora spends a lot of time at my house. Neighborhood gossip is a common topic of conversation for them while standing in my front yard.
The words that tumble out do so involuntarily. “Mind if I climb in? I showered this morning. Put on clean clothes and didn’t step in any mud puddles on my way down the hill.”
“Only if you promise not to yell about my Christmas lights still being up. With my recovery, they’re not going anywhere for a while.” Despite her eyelids drooping, she keeps on talking. “I know how much they annoy you, but I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll supervise the boys to ensure they don’t kill each other while taking them down.”
I reach behind me where Shari stands with a neck brace in her hand. Taking it from her, I slowly lower myself into the passenger seat until I am able to put it on Bethany. “I guess that’s acceptable. Now hold still, I need to put this on you.”
Her eyes open again, staring into mine while I work. “You know, a considerate neighbor would volunteer to help me take them down.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we both know I’m not a considerate neighbor.” I smirk the best I can in this situation. “Maybe I’ll see if Mr. Crawford can do it. The biggest challenge will be keeping him from damaging your bushes or trampling through your carefully cultivated flowerbeds. I hear he’s a peeping tom, so make sure you close your curtains.”
“Don’t you dare.” She coughs, and the raspiness in it catches my attention.
“Look at me.” With her neck brace in place, I meet her bloodshot eyes, reflecting the weariness she’s suffering through. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“Okay.” With a slow inhale, she releases a breath, as if each one causes her pain.
“You sit here like a brave, beautiful girl and let us do what we need to do, no bitching, and I’ll make sure you never have to climb a ladder to hang or remove those lights again.” On a whim, I lift my hand and lightly brush a few strands of hair away from her forehead.
“As long as I get to sit on my lawn and supervise to make sure you do it right.” Her cute pink tongue darts out and wets her lips. “And I’m not a girl. It’s been years since I’ve been one of those.”
I find it funny that’s what she focuses on, not the other word I used. “Deal. Now let’s get you out of here. If you get scared, look at me. Until you’re out and safe, I won’t leave your side. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She sighs and then closes her eyes again.
“Bethany?” I call out her name, but she doesn’t answer. “Bethany?”
The vehicle moves with a slight jolt. I know it’s just the guys making sure we don’t move until we’re ready.
“How’s she doing?” Sam’s voice echoes from behind me.
Reaching for her right arm, my fingers press against her wrist, checking her pulse. “She’s steady, but we need to hurry. Her left leg is crushed, and she’s coughing. Let’s start cutting the top off so we can pull her out.”
Bethany grunts. “Is that really necessary?”
“Hush.” Taking the blanket from Sam, I cover her with it. “No bitching, remember?”
One eye opens as she gives me the stink eye. “Just do it. I’m tired and you’re getting on my nerves.”
Sam snorts while starting the machine that cuts through the metal, allowing us to peel off the roof like opening a sardine can. Before he gets started, I lean against the passenger seat and put my boots on the front window. With a solid kick, I send the glass flying, clearing the way.
It takes thirty-seven minutes from the time we arrived to get her out of that damn vehicle. I never once leave her side. When the shock set in and she began trembling, I was right there, holding her hand tightly to comfort her. I talked her through it as best I could, rechecking her vitals regularly.
Her confidence in our ability to save her never faltered. I haven’t seen someone that brave in ages, and as the ambulance drives away, leaving us to clean up, something inside me shifts.
“You did good.” My captain lays a hand on my shoulder as I help put our equipment away. “I wasn’t sure that you being in there was a good idea, but I was wrong. You kept her calm, allowing us to get her out faster.”
I keep working. The weight of it all is heavy, and I’m afraid to speak. Still not confident I won’t break down now that it’s over.
We load up and drive back to the firehouse. Once there, everyone heads for the showers to clean up before heading out. Our shift ended an hour ago. The new crew is here, ready to relieve us.
As soon as I’m clean, I grab my bag from my locker and make a beeline for the backdoor where my truck is parked. I need to get the fuck out of here.
What the hell was I thinking? I know better than to get in a crashed vehicle. But as soon as I saw whose it was, I couldn’t stop myself.
Just like I know what I’m about to do now is a huge no-no. But Bethany’s someone I know, so it’s different. I call the hospital and ask to speak to Rebecca. She was Stephanie’s friend, and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. I explain who Bethany is, why I’m concerned, and after a lot of persuading, since she and I know that it’s against HIPPA laws for her to share, she offers me something. I think she finally gave in because she knows that I won’t give up. She made me promise to keep this between us. It also helped she was on her break, and no one was around to overhear. What she told me was vague, but it helped.
Bethany’s in surgery, will be for a few more hours. Both of her legs are broken, her left is worse. Her pelvis has a hairline fracture. Her spine is bruised, and additional time is required before they’ll know how bad that one is. She suffered several internal injuries as well. They’ll likely remove her spleen. As if that wasn’t enough, she has several bruised ribs, multiple lacerations on her face and arms that required stitches. She’ll be in the hospital for a while until she’s well enough to be moved to a rehab center.
Although it’ll take her months to recover, she will eventually heal.
Slamming the phone onto the passenger seat, I grunt and turn the key, the truck’s engine sputtering to life. While I process, I breathe in deeply and experience a sense of calm settle in over me. After carefully looking around, I back out and merge into the traffic on the road that will take me to my next stop.
Bethany’s gonna be okay and continue to be a pain in my ass for many days, possibly years, to come. I don’t know why that makes me smile, but it does. We banter daily about unimportant shit while I ignore the sparks flying between us each time she opens her smart mouth, telling me exactly what she thinks about my grumpy attitude, pointing out that a smile won’t give me wrinkles or ruin my day. I’d act like I hated it, rolling my eyes as I walked away. Mumbling to myself before storming into the house and straight up to my room, slamming the door, and jerking off, thinking about everything she does that turns me on. Afterwards, I’d collapse onto my bed, berating myself for being such a jerk and lacking the confidence to seize the moment and kiss away her sassiness. Telling myself the same old lie. Next time she opens that damn mouth of hers, I’m walking right over there, kissing her in a way that will blow her fucking mind.
Parking along the curb, I stare out the front window of my truck at the marble remembrance wall I visit at least once a week, sometimes more. It never gets easier. Guilt always floods my veins, knowing I didn’t see the signs until it was too late, and she was gone.
As I open the door, the stifling humidity steals my breath. Summer in Savannah is hot and muggy, and I sometimes wonder why I continue living here.
Wanting to get home to the girls, I force myself to walk forward until Stephanie’s nameplate comes into view. I take a seat across from it, feeling the smooth wood of the bench against my back.
“Hi. It’s been a crazy day. Had an extraction from a motor vehicle accident. A woman. My neighbor. The one I’ve told you about. The one I know you’d like and tell me to grow a pair and make a move. It feels weird I know you’d say that, since you’re my wife and you should be telling me to keep my hands firmly in my pockets and eyes on the ground. I mean, if you were alive, you’d have said that, but now you’d tell me it’s time to move on. Maybe it is. I don’t know how long a husband is expected to grieve. It’s been three years. Is that long enough?”
The wind stirs around me, and it blows the flowery scent of the bushes blooming down the open breezeway. I like to believe it’s the delicate scent of her perfume as she settles beside me and shakes her head, but it’s not.
“I’m trying. I promise.” As I lean forward, my elbows find their place on my knees, offering support and stability. “I miss you. The girls miss you. You should have talked to me instead of…”
I hate that Stephanie left us like she did. Unable to talk to me about how she couldn’t shake the postpartum and eventually it caught up to her. I don’t blame her. But the hole in my heart will never heal. We didn’t have the perfect relationship, but she was the only person who got me then ended up being one more who left me before I was ready to say goodbye.
That’s why I’ve kept my distance from the woman who lives across the street. I can’t risk getting close to anyone else. She’s too much of a risk for my heart. Love is a thing of my past, something I never plan to fall for again. I’ve lost too many people. First my mom when I was barely a teenager. My father died next, shortly after I started my job at the fire station. And then out of nowhere I lost the love of my life, my wife.
My heart won’t survive another loss. And today was a reminder that it could happen anytime. We have no control over it. It’s best to just keep my head down and walk through life alone.
It’s easier this way.