17. “WELL, THIS AINT OVER, NO, NOT HERE. NOT WHILE I STILL NEED YOU AROUND.” #4
He couldn’t die. He needed to fix things with Jocelyn. He needed her to know he hadn’t cheated on her. That he loved her.
“Lie back.” Logan cradled him on his lap, his face a distorted twist of terror.
“Logan.” Soren gripped his little brother’s shirt, his fear reflecting his own. “Don’t let me die.”
“You’re not gonna die.”
Pain burst in his chest. His hand flattened over his heart as it punched like a wrecking ball trying to break out of his chest.
“Soren!”
His throat constricted, burning as if a white-hot poker blocked his airways. Black bled into his line of vision. “I can’t…” The fractured words came out silent.
He reached for Logan again, holding onto him for dear life as his vision swam.
“Soren! Soren, look at me. Breathe! You have to breathe—”
The sound of his voice siphoned away as the world swallowed him in one painful wave.
“You’ve always been a drama queen.”
Soren scowled at his brother from under the ice pack the EMT had offered. “Fuck you,” he rasped, embarrassed to high hell and back.
“Okay, Mr. Hawthorne.” The paramedic approached with a clipboard tucked under one arm, her severe scrubs starched, and her movements as economical and precise as her tone.
The fluorescent overhead light spilling from inside the ambulance caught the edge of her jawline as she stood in front of him.
“Your vitals are stable, and your heart’s doing its job.
No cardiac event, no stroke, no impending doom despite what your body tried to convince you of. ”
“It wasn’t a heart attack?”
“At your age? I should hope not.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What you experienced was a panic attack, something brought on by anxiety.”
“I don’t have anxiety.”
She arched a brow. “Are you sure?”
Rather than answer, he explained, “It felt like I was having a heart attack.”
“That’s because your brain told your body it was dying.” She paused, tilting her head. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
“Yes,” Logan answered before he could.
“Well, you’re lucky your friend here called us when he did. The symptoms of an anxiety attack can mimic the same symptoms of a heart attack.” She gave Logan a nod of approval. “You did the right thing.”
Logan beamed, and Soren rolled his eyes.
“It’s not my job to counsel you,” the EMT said. “But I suggest examining whatever life choices led to this moment and making some different ones.”
Soren swallowed, still processing the relief that he wasn’t dying. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Mr. Hawthorne, whether you believe in anxiety or not, it doesn’t make it any less dangerous. Your body is trying to tell you something. I suggest you listen before it gets louder.”
She held out the clipboard and asked him to sign on the line. He handed her back the pen and returned the ice pack to his head.
“You’re probably going to sleep for a while.
I suggest having a balanced meal and getting some rest. If you feel it happening again, try going on YouTube and looking up some breathing exercises.
Once you’ve rested, think about identifying the stressors in your life and resolving them—sooner rather than later. ”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She waved a hand for them to exit the vehicle.
Logan followed him to the front porch where Soren dropped to the first step, ice pack pressed to the back of his neck.
When the ambulance pulled away much quieter than it arrived, his brother laughed.
“Shut up.”
“Sorry.” Logan flared his fingers in a calming motion, and he said, “The last thing I want to do is stress you out.” The last few words came out choppy as he bottled up another laugh.
Soren punched him in the arm. “Asshole.”
“Hey, I just saved your life.”
“You can’t save someone’s life if they aren’t in real danger.”
“Whatever.” Logan pulled out a lollipop, unwrapped it, and plugged it in his mouth, proud as a peacock.
The scent of artificial fruit filled the air. “Where did you get that?”
“The cute paramedic gave it to me. Because I did a good deed.”
Soren frowned. That woman wasn’t exactly what he’d call cute, and the other one was a two-hundred-fifty-pound man.
Now that the ordeal was over, he could laugh at himself. “I can’t believe that happened.”
Logan sighed, twirling his lollipop. “What can I say? You’re a delicate flower.”
He tossed the ice pack aside and groaned. Was the paramedic right? Was this because of stress? Maybe part of it was work, but at the core of all his worries was Jocelyn.
“What am I going to do, Logan?”
His brother sighed again, resting his arms on his knees, lollipop dangling from his fingers.
“You’re going to do whatever it takes to fix this.
” He clapped a hand on Soren’s back. “You’re going to do the right thing.
Because under all that polish and tight-ass perfectionism, you’re actually a good guy, Soren. ”
He held his brother’s stare, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, he simply said, “Thanks.”
Logan popped the lollipop back in his mouth. “Hey, that’s what heroes do.”
Soren rolled his eyes, ripped the lollipop out of his mouth, and threw it into the dirt.
“Dick.”