Chapter 2
two
IT’S STRANGE WHAT you remember in those seconds of pure horror. When the world goes into slow motion and everything as you know it has changed.
I remember Mike pulling us up close to the accident, my hand on the door before we had even rolled to a stop.
I remember seeing the lights of the other responders out of the corner of my eye, almost there but not quite.
We were the first, and in a situation where seconds could mean the difference between life or death, I knew I had to act—fast.
“Listen, why don’t you take over backup while I assist—” Mike started, but before he could finish that thought—and before we’d even fully stopped—I was jumping out of the rig and running toward the wreckage, the pounding of blood in my head all I could hear.
Smoke billowed out from beneath the truck’s hood, but I didn’t see a fire, and there were no gas leaks.
Because of where the cars had landed, traffic had stopped in all directions, and barring a rogue asshole trying to maneuver around the accident, the scene would be safe from any more potential incidents, at least until the other emergency personnel arrived.
As I got closer, I could see just how bad of a shape his car was in, but it was the outline of Reid slumped over the wheel’s airbag that had my heart stuttering and the prayers starting. Oh God, please let him be alive. Please don’t let him die. Please help me.
The driver’s-side window was cracked with a smear of blood, but still intact, and I tried not to look at it as I lifted the door handle and found it locked.
I wasn’t about to take the chance of breaking a window near him, and I needed to get to him fast, so I ripped out the blood pressure cuff from the bag I’d grabbed before exiting the ambulance.
With my fingers, I jerked the top of the doorframe open enough to stick the cuff inside and then began to pump.
“Come on, come on,” I said, feeling the clock ticking down as Reid lay motionless inches away. As the cuff expanded, the door began to spread away from the car, giving me enough access to unlock the door with a thin rod and then wrench it open.
My heart beat faster than it had my whole life, but somehow my hands were steady as I drew on my gloves and then took a hold of Reid’s wrist, all the training and years spent in emergency situations keeping me grounded.
He had a pulse, thank God, though it wasn’t as strong as I would’ve liked and his breathing was shallow. But he was alive. For now.
“Reid?” I said, needing him to answer me, but there was no response. Fuck. “Reid, if you can hear me, I’m gonna get you out of here. I just need you to stay with me, okay? And don’t try to move.”
A groan emerged from his throat, as I quickly sliced his seatbelt apart and then began to take a visual assessment of his injuries.
He had blood oozing from the gash on the left side of his skull, where it looked like the force of impact had thrown his head into the driver’s-side window, so there was definite head trauma, and possible neck and spine injury.
There seemed to be no other major bleeding, though the damage I couldn’t see was always what worried me the most. Not to mention the smoke escaping from the hood of the truck made it hard to see or even breathe.
“What have we got?” Mike said from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see he had the stretcher and cervical collar ready to go.
One of the fire and rescue squad teams came to a stop behind us for backup, while the others went to the four-by-four to extricate the driver of the truck, who I could see was alert and trying to exit the vehicle by himself.
I rattled off Reid’s vitals as I unlocked the back door for Mike and then returned my focus to Reid. Mike climbed into the back seat, and together with the others, we began the complicated dance of getting Reid out of the car while keeping his spine stable.
“Slow…slowly,” I said to my team as Reid began to mumble incoherently.
“I’ve got you, Reid. We’ve all got you.” And then to further soothe him, I began to explain what was happening.
“You’ll feel several pairs of hands on different parts of your body right now, and that’s because we need to make sure we’ve got your spine immobilized while we get you out of the car. ”
He managed a small groan of acknowledgment and closed his eyes as we continued to move him, and it didn’t escape my notice that he sucked in a breath whenever someone touched his right arm and side.
The others noticed as well, and I mentally catalogued those injuries as we worked to get him on the stretcher.
I stood at the head as we neutralized his neck and spine in a cervical collar, and that was when I finally got a good look at Reid.
There were cuts along the right side of his handsome face from the shards of glass that had shot through the air when the truck slammed into him, and several slivers remained embedded in his cheek. His dark hair was matted with blood that trickled down to his eyebrow.
“Reid? Can you look at me?” I said, as I pulled out a penlight and clicked it on.
When he opened his eyes, I felt a small bit of relief that his pupils hadn’t dilated—which would’ve been a very bad sign in a head trauma case—and held up a finger for him to follow.
Then I switched out my finger for the light to see how he’d respond, but at that moment, Reid made a horrible gasping sound, like he was unable to breathe, and we flew into action.
The whole time we worked, getting him intubated and starting the IVs, I kept talking, letting Reid know what was happening at all times, though if I were honest, it was also to keep me sane.
Once we were loaded up, I climbed in the back of the ambulance next to Reid and looked back at Mike.
“You good?” he asked, and I knew he meant me as well as Reid. Blowing out a breath, I gave him a quick nod.
“Let’s go.”
Mike slammed the doors of the rig shut, leaving me in the small space alone with Reid and his labored breathing.
I couldn’t take that sound. Not from him.
Needing to break up the unsteady silence as I worked to get him medicated and stable, I said, “And you thought the latte machine breaking down was the low point of the day.”
Ugh. Yeah, bad timing on that joke, but it was horrible jokes or nothing at all, and I felt the need to keep talking, to let him hear me and know someone was with him.
“Can you believe we never learned each other’s names before today?
That’s kinda dumb, right? Always passing each other in the mornings but never saying anything.
As a matter of fact, I always thought of you as Bluebird in my head, not that I’d ever say that to your face.
” I glanced down at his still-shut eyes.
“Well, not to your waking face, anyway.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mike booking it down the road and knew he was listening to every word I said, though he was trying not to react in any way. I shrugged. Not like he didn’t know more than Reid did.
“You’re probably thinking, why Bluebird, right?
” I continued. “The first time I ever saw you, you had on this light blue shirt under your jacket, and there was some kind of silver pin on your lapel that looked like wings. I suppose it stood out to me, and…well, you stood out to me, really. So, I guess… I guess for some reason, Bluebird popped into my head, so that’s what you were from then on. ”
I glanced at his vitals display and swallowed.
“I don’t know why I said all that, but there you go.
Sometimes things don’t make sense, but you gotta go with it.
Kinda like what’s happening now.” I took a deep breath as I studied his face.
That beautiful, cut-up face, and the man it belonged to who didn’t deserve what was happening to him now.
It felt surreal, to go from our conversation not even a half an hour ago to rushing him to the hospital.
It reminded me what I knew to be true on a daily basis—life wasn’t fair, and it didn’t skip someone just because they were a good person.
I didn’t know this man, but I knew in my gut he was good.
And I’d do everything in my power to keep him breathing, to keep him safe.
His brows contorted, and I found myself saying, “You’re okay. You hear me? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep fighting.”
Reid’s eyes opened then, those dark brown orbs staring right at me, and I knew he’d heard me, because I could see the understanding mixed with fear.
I gently touched his arm in reassurance. I’ve got you, I thought, wishing there weren’t glistening unshed tears in his eyes.
But then his lids fluttered shut and his pulse slowed even more, and my stomach fucking dropped.
“Mike, you need to punch it,” I called out. “Now.”
“Almost there, Ollie. Make him hold tight.”
Don’t you dare go anywhere, I thought, keeping my hand on Reid’s wrist, as if I could force him to stay. In those tense seconds before we reached Floyd Hospital—truly, it had taken no more than a minute—it felt like hours passed.
The trauma team was ready when we arrived, Mike having called in the code on the way over, and it was a relatively smooth transition getting Reid into an ER room and switched over to the hospital’s equipment.
My eyes never left him as I briefed the doctor on the accident and our en route treatment, and after giving her the report on his vitals and possible injuries, she took over.
I knew better than to hover while they did their job, but the urge to stay was so strong that I almost couldn’t force my feet to move.
But they did, slowly but surely, and as I backed out of the room, I sent up silent prayers that this wouldn’t be the last time I saw him.
That he’d come through with as little lasting damage as possible.
And then the door shut and he was gone, out of view from me or any other passersby, and I could only stand there, feeling numb and helpless now that he was out of my hands.
But that’s what the job was. It was what I’d signed up for.
I was the first on the scene in what was the most crucial time for a victim, but it wasn’t in my job description to know how a patient fared once we left.
It never failed that I’d wonder about them when I left the hospital and on the drive home at the end of the day.
Were they all right? Had they run into any other complications?
Sometimes I’d call up to the ER, and if a nurse I was friendly with answered, I’d get a rundown, HIPAA privacy violations be damned, but more often than not, I left the job within the walls of the hospital.
This one, though? There was no way I could just leave Reid here without knowing he’d come through this.
It would probably seem crazy to anyone else, but though we didn’t really know each other, he was a part of my daily life, even for those few minutes at Joe’s.
I couldn’t even think about the possibility I’d never get those moments every morning back.
That he wouldn’t be there tomorrow, refillable mug under the latte spout, filling up and then pouring in three sugars, two creamers.
No, I wasn’t gonna think about that. It was too morbid when my gut told me he’d come out of this.
I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, lost in my thoughts, when a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I didn’t have to look to know it was Mike, and the squeeze of his hand was all the support I needed.
“Bertha’s clean,” he said in a low voice. “I figured you needed a little while…you know.”
“Thank you.” I looked over at him, suddenly feeling more tired than I had in years. “Did that really just happen?”
“Yeah. Yeah, buddy, it did.”
A tone sounded from the radios we wore, and then a call came through. Animal bite on the other side of town, not serious.
“Gotta go,” Mike said, and I nodded absently as I continued staring at the door Reid had disappeared behind.
I’ll be back, I thought, swallowing hard as I let Mike lead me out of the emergency entrance. You better still be here and awake next time I see you.