Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My blood went cold as I read the latest one.
Ella
CALL ME NOW. Hazel and Avery have been in an accident. They can’t get Hazel out of the car.
My hands started shaking as I scrolled through the other messages, trying to piece together what had happened. The words “multi-vehicle” and “hydroplane” and “blood loss” jumped out at me like physical blows.
“Oh god,” I whispered.
15
FOSTER
“Tommy?” I watched the color drain from his face as he stared at his phone. “What is it?”
The change in him was instant and devastating. One moment, he’d been laughing with the other instructors about our impromptu cave adventure, and the next, he looked like someone had punched him in the gut. His hands were shaking as he thrust the phone at me.
I read the messages, my stomach dropping with each line. Hydroplane. Hazel trapped. Blood loss. The words painted a picture that had my own pulse spiking in sympathy.
“I have to go,” Tommy said, already moving toward the cave entrance despite the rain still pounding outside. “My sister. Her wife. The baby. There’s been a multi-vehicle crash on Highway 170 south of town, and they can’t get Hazel out of the car. I have to—”
“Tommy.” I caught his arm, feeling the tremor running through his entire body. Around us, conversations had stopped. Everyone was watching as the composed doctor they’d known all week came apart at the seams. “Breathe. We’ll get you there. Let’s wait for a break in the lightning.”
“Everyone, get out your med kits and bring them here.” Jasper didn’t add a right now, but his firm tone had everyone complying instantly anyway. “If there are multiple injured, responders might need more supplies than they’ve got, but Dr. Marian can bring ours to the scene. Pull anything trauma-related. I’m talking pressure dressings, tourniquets, burn dressings. If you’ve got extra gloves or thermal blankets, pull those, too.”
As the group scrambled, Jasper moved with measured efficiency, sorting gear like he’d done it a hundred times—which, I guessed, he probably had as an EMT.
I’d spent nearly three weeks judging the guy harshly because he couldn’t seem to think on his own. Now, it was clear he was more than capable. I just didn’t get why he’d hung back before.
Just as Jasper finished prepping the supplies, Tommy turned from where he’d been scanning the weather from the mouth of the cave.
“The storm—” he began.
“We got the break we need,” I said, understanding what he meant and already mentally calculating routes. “Trace, I need your truck keys.”
Within minutes, Tommy and I were racing through the storm-darkened afternoon to the vehicle. The rain was lighter now but still treacherous, turning the mountain roads into a maze of potential hazards.
“Fucking fuck,” Tommy said, his voice tight with controlled panic as he tried to get his phone to cooperate. “I need to reach someone at the scene.”
I kept my eyes on the road, navigating the slick asphalt while Tommy’s fear filled the cab like a living thing. Every few seconds, he’d curse under his breath as another call failed to connect, the storm playing havoc with cell towers.
“We need to stop at SERA,” I said, taking a turn faster than I should have. “Get my truck.”
“We don’t have time—”
“It has lights and sirens,” I explained, seeing understanding dawn in his eyes. “We can make better time, and people will get out of our way.”
The brief stop at SERA felt like an eternity, but the transfer was worth it. My sheriff’s vehicle cut through traffic like a knife, emergency lights lighting up the gray afternoon as we flew toward Legacy’s main highway.
This was what emergency response looked like when it got personal—when the victim wasn’t a stranger but someone you loved. I’d seen it before, the way training could both help and hinder when your emotions were involved. Tommy was fighting between his medical expertise and his terror, and I could practically feel him vibrating with the need to do something, anything, to help his sister.
“Come on, come on,” he whispered, holding his phone toward the window. The blue glow of the screen reflected off his face, highlighting the tight lines around his eyes.
Finally, the call connected.
“Avery, honey, it’s Tommy,” he said, his voice still tight with barely controlled fear. “How are you and the baby?” His free hand tightened into a fist, knuckles white.
“Good, good—no, I know. I’m on my way. What’s her status?”
All I could hear was a panicked woman’s voice on the other end, but I watched Tommy’s face change as he listened. The transformation was subtle at first—a straightening of his shoulders, a steadying of his breathing. The terrified brother was still there, but something else was emerging now that he had a task to focus on.
“Okay. Okay, that’s good. Conscious is good.” His jaw tightened as he reached into the center console for a pen. “Can you hand the phone to the nearest EMT?”