Chapter 33
LEVI
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ford was the first one in, my brother by my side in mere seconds as he quickly assessed the situation. Harper’s labored breathing had lessened in severity, her breaths coming easier now, if not effortless. But still, she kept her hand on my chest, my shirt clutched in her fist.
And I’d be damned if I was going to move an inch.
Ford seemed to realize that, dropping his bag on Harper’s other side and crouching down so he was eye level with her. “If you wanted to see me again, you could’ve just let me know, Harper. This seems a bit excessive.” Though his tone was teasing, his gaze was focused and assessing, his movements quick and efficient but sure and steady.
Harper rasped out a short laugh but otherwise didn’t speak, still focusing on taking measured breaths that matched in time with mine.
“You feel comfortable talking with this guy around?” he asked, tipping his head in my direction as he pulled something from his bag.
Without hesitation, she nodded, and relief immediately swept over me. I didn’t deserve her loyalty, but fuck if I wasn’t going to take it.
“All right. Can you tell me what happened, then?”
“Walnuts,” she managed, her voice raspy and weak. “I’m guessing cross-contamination on my salad.”
I swore under my breath, wanting nothing more than to hunt down whoever had been so fucking careless with her life and make them regret that they’d even woken up that morning.
Ford nodded, ignoring me completely as he took Harper’s pulse, and tipped his head toward the discarded epinephrine shot. “How long ago did you administer the EpiPen?”
The questions went on like that as he checked Harper’s vitals, and she answered everything as best she could, looking to me when she wasn’t sure of the answer. I was on autopilot, making sure she had exactly what she needed, all while barely keeping it together on the inside, my fears staring me straight in the eyes.
I was terrified of losing someone at my hand, of having that on my conscience again when my mom’s death already ate at me day in and day out. But I wasn’t terrified of losing just someone else, but of losing her. I could no longer lie to myself and pretend she didn’t mean every-fucking-thing to me. And quite frankly, it was laughable I’d even tried.
Those minutes as she and I had sat waiting for my brother and the rest of his crew to show up were some of the longest of my life. Counting the seconds in my mind and urging Harper to match my breathing, even as I watched her struggle with every inhalation.
She’d clutched the front of my shirt, resting her hand above my heart, and focused solely on me. Even after Ford had rushed in, Harper’s eyes never left mine, gratitude and something else I couldn’t focus on shining in their depths.
A while later, after Ford and his crew had done whatever the hell they’d done to check Harper out while I’d spent the entire time studying her face, my brother had not so gently suggested she head to the ER. And she’d not so gently passed and then outright refused to go.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. She hated hospitals and spent her measured breaths assuring me, as well as everyone else, she was totally fine. Even as her skin flushed from the straight shot of adrenaline and I could nearly see her nerves vibrating beneath her skin. Both of which she’d reminded me were totally normal, because, yeah, she’d done this before. And that, as soon as the shot wore off, she was going to crash, and she wanted to be home when she did. But even her casual use of home couldn’t distract me from worrying about her.
Finally, when it was clear she wasn’t budging after her twentieth refusal to be transported, the firefighters—save for Ford—admitted defeat and headed out, but I called bullshit on the whole thing. And then I called my sister-in-law.
Quinn was at Harper’s and my apartment ten minutes later, and I’d never been more grateful than I was in that moment that my brother had married up.
After a quick knock on the front door, she strode into the apartment with a medical bag, her gaze darting around and assessing everything in seconds flat. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Ford’s brows hit his hairline when he registered his wife was here, then he turned to me with narrowed eyes. “You don’t trust my vast knowledge? I’m wounded—not to mention qualified!”
“You are, sweetie. But the MD behind my name says I’m more qualified.” Quinn patted her husband’s chest as she brushed past him. “Now, shush and let me talk with my patient.”
All three of their voices blended together, blurring into background noise as I stood off to the side, nearly fucking beside myself. My brain refused to focus on anything but every alternative possibility that could have played out… If I hadn’t texted Harper that morning. If I hadn’t gotten pissed enough to go looking for her. If I hadn’t found her up in the apartment.
If I hadn’t found her pen in time.
And then I thought about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t run scared this morning… If I hadn’t bailed before she’d woken up. If I’d just stayed in that bed, we might not have even left it at all. And maybe she wouldn’t have had to face any of this in the first place.
But because I’d tucked tail and run, she’d come far too fucking close to death for me to do anything but hate myself for it.
Once Quinn had monitored Harper long enough and was satisfied with her progress, my sister-in-law gave us an oximeter, an auto blood pressure cuff, and a log for any medications or symptoms—as well as strict orders to use each and every one and call her with hourly updates or she’d be camping on the couch tonight. She also called in a prescription to the pharmacy to replace Harper’s EpiPen as soon as possible.
As Ford and Quinn said their goodbyes to Harper, I stood by the apartment door, waiting and ready for them to leave. Ready to forget this whole fucking day.
“Still think I could’ve handled everything fine on my own,” Ford said as he and Quinn strolled toward me.
My sister-in-law rolled her eyes. “But then I wouldn’t get to hear you complain about it all night, and where would the fun be in that?”
“I’ll give you something else to listen to all ni—” Ford’s words cut off on an oomph when Quinn jabbed an elbow into his stomach.
“I’m glad you called me,” she said, squeezing my forearm. “Despite how much my husband is whining about it.”
“I’m not whining,” he mumbled before turning his attention to me. “But I’m glad you called her, too. And that you called 9-1-1 and didn’t wait until…” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say the words. Not when they were already burned into my brain.
Until it was too late.
Ford cleared his throat. “You did good, man.”
But I didn’t deserve his praise. Not when things might’ve been—probably would have been—different if I’d made different choices.
Story of my fucking life.
“Thanks for sticking around,” I said to my brother before turning my attention on my sister-in-law. “And thanks for making a house call. I owe you one.”
She scoffed and squeezed my arm twice before letting go. “You absolutely do not. And you never have to thank me for something like that. You’re family. And by extension, so is she.”
An ache bloomed in my chest and spread, Quinn’s simple words lighting up something inside me I hadn’t allowed myself to even consider for more than a decade.
Quinn glanced back at my brother, a silent exchange passing between them before she headed out of the apartment and down the stairs. Over her shoulder, she called, “And I mean it! Every hour, or I’m showing up with an overnight bag and my jammies.”
“Every hour, Doc. Promise.” That was one thing I absolutely would not be fucking up.
Before Ford followed his wife down the stairs, he stood on the threshold and pinned me in place with his all-knowing gaze. Having death so close dredged up memories I’d have liked nothing more than to keep buried. I dwelled on them often enough that I didn’t need an outside reminder. And from the look in Ford’s eyes as he clapped a hand on my shoulder, he saw every bit of that struggle in my expression.
“Give me a call if you want to talk about this”—he tipped his head toward the living room where Harper was curled on the couch, fully in her crash portion of the night—“or about Mom…” He cleared his throat. “Or Dad. Any of it. I mean it, all right? Any time.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he squeezed my shoulder and headed down the stairs, offering me one last glance before he slipped outside to where Quinn waited for him. He said something to her, and though she tried to scowl, a smile curved her lips when he bent to kiss her. Her laugh floated up the stairs to me as my brother linked their fingers together and tugged her along beside him, as natural as if they’d been doing it their whole lives. Giving me a glimpse of the happiness I would never deserve.
And then it was just Harper and me and all those regrets I couldn’t seem to shake.
After shutting the door, I strode into the living room and studied Harper. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene as she lay curled up in the corner of the couch. As if none of this had happened.
Except it had. And it had changed…everything.
I sank down on the other end of the couch, bracing my elbows on my knees as I stared at her. The woman I’d loved even before I knew what love was. The one who’d been one of my very best friends before shifting to more. Who’d taken all my firsts, just as I’d done for her. The one who’d haunted my dreams for half a lifetime.
And I’d almost lost her.
Worse, it hadn’t happened by pushing her away in some misguided attempt to ensure she lived a life she deserved. But for real. For good.
Because I’d shoved her away. Again.
The reminder that I’d given her up once—on fucking purpose—nearly choked me. I’d spent years convincing myself it’d been the right thing to do, that by ending things between us, I was sparing her from the wreckage of my life. But after everything that had happened—then and now—it made me realize just how hollow those justifications had been. Especially when my shoving her away today had nearly cost her everything.
The truth was, I was terrified of loving too deeply, only to lose it all again. But that fear had nothing on the terror I’d felt today watching Harper struggle for every single breath.
I couldn’t afford to fool myself anymore, not when every day that ticked by was one less day in a finite number that I’d have the privilege of calling her mine.