Chapter 17
MILES
I roll my eyes at the name of the group chat Carter, Cooper, and I have together.
Carter named it after joking that we’re like the Lost Boys from Peter Pan.
Just a couple of sad little kids without parents.
Ever since he changed it, he and Coop have been battling it out, changing the name whenever they can.
Coop has changed the group name to: Grow the hell up
Carter has changed the group name to: Find a fucking soul
Carter has changed the group name to: The Lost Boys
Coop has changed the group name to: Go fuck yourself
Jesus christ can we stop changing the goddamn name of this chat?!
I finally send, tired of their passive aggressive back and forth.
Carter:
I wouldn’t have to change it if Coop would just leave it alone.
Coop:
I wouldn’t have to change it if you didn’t keep naming it something stupid.
I sigh and scroll up to see what the initial text was about that set off the chat in the first place. Finding it, I see that it’s from Coop confirming our plans for Thanksgiving next week.
Coop, to answer your question, yes that’s still the plan for the holiday.
Carter:
Wait, what’s the plan for the holiday next week? I missed it.
Coop:
Maybe you wouldn’t have missed it if you didn’t dick around with the group chat name.
Carter:
Maybe I wouldn’t need to mess with it if you weren’t such a dick.
How old are the two of you again? Cuz right now you’re acting like a couple of toddlers.
Carter:
It’s not my fault! He always has to be so serious about everything while I’m out here trying to have a good time, spreading a little joy, you know. Enjoying the small things.
Coop:
We are grown ass men, we don’t need our group chat name to be some callback to a children’s movie.
Carter:
I’ll have you know, Peter Pan is a classic and has MANY adult themes and conversation talking points in it.
Anyway
Carter and I will meet you at Ivy’s house next Thursday after shift. Are you bringing the pies?
Coop:
Yep. Called the bakery earlier today to place the order. They’re expecting me, just like always.
Carter:
Wait, we’re talking about Thanksgiving next week?
Yes, dear brother of mine, we are.
Carter:
Oh, okay cool. We’re meeting at Ivy’s house like always, right? Just like we always do where Willow and her cook and then the three of us meet up with them after shift.
Coop:
How do you make it through your day to day without getting hit by a car?
Because I push him out of the way before it hits him.
Carter:
Is Willow going to make her sweet potato casserole Coop?
Coop:
I don’t know man, ask her.
Carter:
No can do, boss. She’s kinda pissed at me at the moment.
Is this leftover issues from Sunday?
Coop:
What happened on Sunday?
What the hell did you do to my sister for her to be pissed at you?
Carter:
Nothing! Maybe she’s just hormonal or something, I don’t know.
Coop:
Sounds like Willow. She’ll get over it, she always does. If you want her to make it, just text her and ask. She’s always liked you best out of the three of us.
Which is hilarious seeing as how you’re her brother.
Coop:
Yeah, well, circumstances sometimes forced me out of brother mode and into parent mode which never boded well for me.
I pause and read his message twice. After losing their mom, their dad completely checked out.
It was like he lost who he was as a person and completely forgot he had two kids to raise.
Coop grew up fast and did what he could to make sure Willow had as normal of a childhood as possible.
Once Ivy caught wind of what was going on and how Coop’s dad was oftentimes more drunk than sober, they all but lived at our house.
Coop even opted to skip college and work right out of high school before joining the police academy all so he could stay close home while Willow finished high school so she didn’t have to be alone.
Carter sends a text after a minute or two.
Carter:
You did what you had to survive man. So both of you could survive.
Cooper:
Tis the season to stir up family trauma, lol
Trauma.
The word instantly makes me think of a certain blonde-haired therapist and the way she tips her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. I wonder what she would think if she knew the full histories of Carter, Cooper, and I.
To surviving
I include the symbol we always gave to one another growing up to let the other know we’re okay.
Carter:
To surviving
Coop:
To surviving
The chat goes silent for a moment until my phone buzzes again and I check to see what it says. If Carter were here, I’d deck him.
Carter has changed the group name to: The Lost Boys
The alarm sounds throughout the station and my body immediately goes into response mode.
After five years on the job, my mind doesn’t even have to think about what to do when the sirens go off, my body simply reacts on instinct.
It’s early Sunday morning and the start of my twenty-four hours before my day off tomorrow.
The emergency sirens going off is never a good start to a shift.
Running towards the engine bay, I can hear the footsteps of the other men and women on my shift running towards it too. When we reach the bay, King steps into the driver’s seat as our engine driver and starts the truck while the rest of us suit up for the call.
“Multi-car accident on the interstate over the bridge, no casualties reported but severe trauma on site. EMT and PD being called in to assist,” he calls out through the window while we pile in.
Outside of fires, traffic accidents are our most frequent calls. I don’t know what it is about this city but the people here don’t seem to really know how to go more than a day or two without getting in some sort of car related trouble.
We take off out of the firehouse with the sirens on the truck blaring loudly.
Cars pull off to the side as we go flying down the road at them and before long, I hear additional sirens on the street.
The firehouse isn’t far from the university hospital downtown and most times, the paramedics we work with on the scene come from there.
King drives us through the narrow downtown streets with ease before turning onto the interstate and towards the bridge.
One thing about Charleston is you can’t get very far before going over a bridge.
And because of this, the scene of the accident is currently being cut off by the morning rush hour traffic.
With persistent honking and a lot of patience, we finally reach the scene of the accident.
“Sweet lord Jesus,” Cater says under his breath as he jumps out of the truck.
My eyes scan the scene and understand his sentiment.
I’m not sure what the hell happened but at first glance, two cars had collided head on and a third one seemed to have rammed into the first. Smoke billows out of one which makes my brain conjure up a litany of things to worry about and look out for.
I can hear a woman crying from one of the cars but I can’t make out which one she’s in.
A man, assumingly one of the drivers, is sitting on the curb holding his head with a bloodied hand.
“Alright, eyes up and stay alert. June, you go with EMS to check on him. Try to get any details you can from him while we wait for police to assist. Trevor, you and Wilson go and check on the driver in car three. Carter, you’re with me,” I bark out orders to my team and they all nod before rushing towards their respective postings.
Jogging up the second car, I find the source of the crying.
A woman who seems to be in her early thirties is strapped into the front seat, blood running down her cheek from her temple mixes with fresh tears.
The spider web fracture in the windshield tells me that she more than likely has a concussion and needs to be stabilized quickly for any kind of possible head trauma.
Seeing the same thing I do, Carter steps in front of me to take a closer look. “Ma’am, my name is Carter, I’m with Fire and Rescue. I’m here to help you today. Can you tell me your name?”
“Rose, my name is Rose,” she answers through her cries. “Is he—is he okay?” Her voice breaks.
“Who ma’am? The other driver? He’s out of his car and seems okay. I’m more worried about you right now,” Carter says as he wraps a brace around her neck. Another member of our company uses a fire extinguisher on the hood of the car to dispel some of the smoke that’s billowing out from under it.
“No—my son. In the back. He’s in the back.” She tries to turn her head but Carter stops her.
Flashing his eyes to me, I frantically peer through the back window and see a small body slumped over in the back seat.
A child-sized dinosaur backpack and matching lunchbox are thrown to the floor.
I hate when kids are involved. My hand yanks the door open and I bend over to get inside the car.
I gently reach for the boy and lay a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to get him to respond.
One of his arms appears to be broken which makes sense given the size of the collision he was in.
“Tucker? Tucker!” his mother cries out in panic, fighting Carter with everything she has to get into the backseat with me.
“Ma’am, please, you need to stay still until EMS can take a look at you,” he says calmly. “My friend is going to make sure he’s okay, I promise.”
“Tucker, Tucker, can you hear me buddy?” I give him a gentle nudge, bracing his arm with my hand.
When he starts to stir, I exhale a sigh of relief.
Finally, he opens his eyes and the boy who can’t be more than eight or nine years old looks at me with tears in his eyes.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay. My name is Miles, I’m here to help you.
You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me your name? ”
“T–Tucker,” he hiccups. The more he comes too the more he takes in where he is. When his mother hears his voice she bursts into more sobs.
“Mommy?” he calls out, more panicked than before.
“I’m here, I’m okay, sweetie. These nice men are going to help us. We’re going to be okay.”
“That’s right, Tucker,” I say, looking from the woman to her son. “You’re going to be just fine. Now, can you be really brave and come with me? I have more friends I want you to meet while my brother, Carter, helps your mommy.”
Tucker looks between us with wide, wet eyes. His eyebrows press together. “Is he really your brother?” he asks, pointing a finger towards where Carter is crouched next to the driver’s seat.
“He sure is. I’m sure once we get you and your mom out of this car he can tell you some pretty embarrassing stories about me when we were your age,” I reply with a tinge of humor in my voice. This gets the boy to smile the smallest bit.
“Does anything hurt? Your head or your neck? Maybe your back?” I ask, trying to get a read on if it’s safe to move him or not. Thankfully, his mother has him in a booster seat still and he’s wearing his seatbelt which probably saved his life. He shakes his head at me.
“Okay, I’m going to hold your arm right where it is, okay? It might hurt a little when I pick you up, but my friends are going to make it feel better really soon, I promise.”
Fear is back in his small, oversized eyes but he nods anyway.
“Way to be brave, Tucker. Okay, let’s get you out of here.”
Pinning his arm to his chest, he doesn’t even flinch when I unbuckle him from his seat and lift him out.
He wraps his free arm around my neck and holds tight while I pull him out and walk him towards the ambulance that’s waiting for us.
Carefully, I set him down on the gurney the paramedics have set up and let them step in and take over.
“Okay, buddy. I’m going to let my friends here take a look at you, okay? They’re going to make your arm feel better and help your mommy once my brother helps her out of your car.” I’m about to take a step away to support my company members when I hear a tiny voice cry out and reach for my hand.
“Don’t leave.”
Looking at his small hand in mine, I’m taken back to a time where I said those same two words to someone I saw as my protector.
Someone who was supposed to watch out for me no matter what, but instead chose all night benders and random hookups for cash instead.
Nights where I would beg her to stay, to not go out, to not leave me.
But she always did.
Smiling at the boy, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. “I’ll be right back, okay? I have to go check and make sure that my friends don’t need any help but then I’ll come right back. I promise.”
He nods and I release his hand before hurrying to secure the scene, coordinate with EMS and the police who have shown up, and make sure my people are okay.
Once I make sure that the chaos is under control, I make my way back to Tucker and talk with him until the paramedics drive off with him and his mother on board.
I always come back for my people, just like I promise I will.
Always.
Until I don’t.