Chapter 36
thirty-six
brEE
Time stopped meaning anything the moment I got here. The world outside this riverbank doesn’t exist.
The tent flaps rustle with every gust of wind, brittle canvas snapping like it’s as strung out as I am. The river murmurs just beyond, its current a cruel contrast to the havoc inside me. Search crews come and go. Flashlights glow in the distance. Somewhere out there, they’re still looking for him.
I think I’ve been awake for nearly forty-eight hours.
Maybe more. Maybe less. Does it even matter?
Sleep is something that exists for people who aren’t running on fumes and sheer desperation.
My body begs for rest, every muscle aching, every nerve frayed, but my brain won’t allow it.
It keeps me upright, keeps me pacing, keeps me stuck in this awful in-between where the only thing keeping me conscious is the terror that if I close my eyes, even for a second, I’ll wake up to the worst.
It’s sometime in the middle of the night, that much I’m sure of.
Everything else is a blur. The rain has stopped, but the weight in the air hasn’t lifted.
If anything, it’s heavier now, and the world has gone eerily still.
No cars. No voices. Not even the whisper of wind through the trees.
It’s like everything is holding its breath. Just like me.
The only sound left is the insistent pounding of my heart in my ears. Proof that I’m still here, still standing. But even that feels uncertain, like it could stop at any moment.
I can feel myself slipping, my grip on reality unraveling thread by thread.
The eerie silence is claimed by the static crackle of a rescuer’s nearby radio. My head snaps toward the sound, my pulse surging, breath locking in my throat. For a second, everything is suspended.
Then through the noise, a voice breaks through.
“We’ve got him. We found him.”
The radio crackles again, and the voice delivers the only words that matter.
“He’s alive. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”
A choked sound rips from my throat, somewhere between a sob and a gasp. My knees threaten to buckle, and my vision swims.
He’s alive.
Alive.
The one word washes away the terror that’s been clinging to me. My vision blurs, the world tilting sideways as relief crashes over me in waves so powerful I can barely stay standing. I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the sob threatening to break free.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. This nightmare is about to end.
Then, just as quickly as it arrived, hope is ripped from me. Reality sets in, and my stomach drops.
He’s hurt.
What does hurt mean? How bad is it? What kind of shape is he in? The image of him broken, bleeding, and unconscious begins to form at the edges of my mind, pulling me back into the worst version of this reality I’ve been trying so desperately to escape.
“Where?” I manage to gasp, grabbing the closest rescuer’s sleeve. “Where is he?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am, but the helicopter’s on its way to airlift him out.”
Helicopter. They’re getting him out of there. That’s good, right? That should be enough to settle my racing heart. And yet my pulse is still distraught, the nervousness still alive and jumping its way up my throat.
I have to get to the hospital. I need to see him, hold his hand, and make sure he knows he’s not alone.
But the thought of what I might find once I see him… It’s unbearable.
How am I supposed to handle it? How will I stay strong for him if I see him like that? How can I be his strength when all I want to do is crumble?
I can’t be weak.
Then, in the distance, there’s a flash of light and the unmistakable silhouette of the helicopter. They’re getting him out.
Juliette appears at my side. “Knox just called. He’s with him. They’re taking him to Highland Memorial,” she says, already pulling her car keys from her pocket. “Let’s go.”
I nod, unable to speak through the knot in my throat. My body feels weightless, like I might float away if not for Juliette’s steady hand on my elbow guiding me back to the car.
The first rays of dawn are just beginning to streak across the sky, painting everything in a surreal golden light. It feels wrong, somehow, that the world can look so beautiful when every nerve in my body is frayed, ready to snap.
“He’ll be okay,” Juliette says, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Callan’s strong.”
I want to believe her. I need to believe her. But the fear that’s been my constant companion for the past two days isn’t so easily dismissed.
The rest of the drive is a blur. My fingers dig into my thighs, my knee bouncing restlessly. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the sight of the hospital looms ahead.
Juliette pulls into the emergency lot, but I’m already moving, my hand grasping the door handle before the tires have even fully stopped. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else.
I have to get to him.
The moment my feet hit the pavement, I’m running.
The automatic doors slide open, and the sterile bite of disinfectant floods my senses.
The smell hits hard, twisting my stomach and turning my anxiety into something almost tangible.
The emergency room is alive with nurses darting past in scrubs, monitors beeping in a dissonant rhythm, phones ringing, voices murmuring, all of which blend into a chaotic buzz.
I push forward, gripping the edge of the reception desk. “I’m looking for—”
“Bree!”
I turn at the sound of my name, a jolt of anticipation racing through me, only for my pulse to stutter in a whole new rhythm when I see Knox.
He’s striding toward me with long, purposeful steps, but his face is pale and drawn, his eyes rimmed red.
“Where is he? Is he okay? What happened?”
Knox’s jaw clenches, his lips pressing together. “He’s in surgery right now.” His voice is strained. Tired. “They’re working on him.”
My stomach twists. “Surgery? How bad is it?”
He hesitates. Why is he hesitating?
“Knox,” I whisper, my voice uneven. “Tell me.”
He exhales sharply, like the words physically pain him.
“It was bad, Bree. The river took him farther than we thought. By the time they got to him…” He shakes his head, jaw tightening.
“Hypothermia. Blood loss. Internal injuries. Broken ribs. His leg is pretty messed up, too. They don’t know the full extent yet. ”
My legs start to give out, and I’m vaguely aware of Knox’s hands propping me up, pulling me back from the edge.
“He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be okay.”
“They’re doing everything they can,” he says. “He’s tough, Bree. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him.”
I nod mechanically, my head moving in agreement, but inside, the storm is raging. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Knox’s hand is the only thing keeping me upright. Without it, I’m sure I would crumble to the floor.
“I need to see him,” I manage to whisper, the words almost inaudible. My throat is tight, but the anxiety in my mind screams louder than I can voice it.
He shakes his head. “He’s in surgery, Bree. It could be hours… We just have to wait.”
Wait. The word is a prison sentence. I want to demand he take me to him, but the strength in my legs falters, and I’m rooted in place. My hands tremble at my sides, and I want to move, but all I can do is stand here, waiting.
Knox shifts his focus, releasing my arm to approach Juliette. There’s an edge of concern in his voice as he guides her to a chair. “You need to sit, Jules. You’re exhausted. This isn’t good for you.”
Guilt snakes through me. How did I not think of her before now? Juliette, who has been by my side through all of this, who is pregnant and running on just as much exhaustion and fear as the rest of us.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Shit. Jules, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She just shakes her head, already sinking into the chair Knox guided her to. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice as reassuring despite her exhaustion.
“You need to go home,” I try again, because even though I don’t want her to leave, even though I selfishly need her here, I can’t ignore what’s best for her. “Get some rest. Take care of yourself. The babies—”
“This is where I need to be,” she interrupts, her gaze locking onto mine.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
She offers a small smile, tired but sure. “Okay. Any word from your parents or Lucy?” she asks, turning her attention back to Knox.
“Aye, they’ll be here soon,” he replies, his voice rougher than usual. “Lucy’s driving Mum and Dad.”
I sink into a chair next to Juliette, my legs finally giving out. “Can you tell me exactly what happened? How did they find him?”
Knox runs a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. His eyes are distant and unfocused, as if he’s still on the riverbank watching everything unfold.
“They found him on the bank a few miles from where he went in. He was unconscious but breathing. They think he managed to grab onto something before he passed out.”
His voice falters, and for a second, the room is so quiet I can hear my own shallow breaths. “If he hadn’t…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to. We all know what would have happened.
If he hadn’t grabbed onto whatever it was, we’d be planning a funeral instead of sitting in a hospital waiting room.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, head in my hands as I try to focus my breathing.
“He’s alive,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. “He’s alive.”
The waiting room fills and empties around us. Nurses come and go. The sun climbs higher in the sky outside the windows. And still, we wait.
The rest of the family arrives, their faces etched with the same worry that consumes me, and yet it feels like I’m watching them through a thick fog.
Juliette doesn’t let go of me, her hand a constant touch on my arm, holding me together. Knox, on the other hand, paces near the doorway. I can almost feel the tension radiating off him, like if he moves enough, the clock will speed up.