Page 4 of From the Ashes

It’s a shame that honesty was just that stretch too far.

“What thefudgeis up with you,” Yara hisses as we carry our patient over the sand.

Nevaeh has an oxygen mask over her face and has mostly stopped coughing. Her brother is diligently trotting beside her, their hands clasped together as the four of us make our way back to the path where we can put the backboard onto the gurney and wheel our patient the rest of the way to the ambulance.

I sigh and shake my head. “Nothing.”

She laughs hollowly. “Oh, don’t think you’re going to fool me with that nonsense. Who was that guy?”

I should have known better than to try and slip my unfortunate reaction to Colt past her. I shake my head again and glance at the small children in our care. “Later,” I say simply.

She doesn’t look happy, but she nods, and we make the rest of the way to solid ground in silence.

Thankfully, I’m driving the rig like usual, so that leaves Yara in the back with Nevaeh and her family. My partner is excellent at her job, and manages to balance monitoring our patient and talking reassuringly with the mom. It means I’m left alone with my whirling thoughts, but at least I can avoid answering any awkward questions for the time being. I try to concentrate on the traffic and nothing else.

We make it to San Clemente General in good time and without incident. It’s nice to calmly wheel a patient through the doors rather than sprinting inside for a change.

“Who have we got here?” Samia Duke, the formidable nurse in charge, greets us warmly.

“Nevaeh Adams,” I tell her as we move into the bustling emergency department. “Eight-year-old female, submerged for approximately three-to-four minutes, given CPR and resuscitated on site. Alert and responsive en route, although still coughing sporadically.”

“The paramedics said she was going to be okay?” her mother says anxiously.

Nurse Samia nods, a hardened vet at dealing with panicky relatives. “We’ll run a couple of tests and keep her in for observation for a few hours. Also get a medical history to make sure that there’s nothing underlying that added to the incident. But with any luck, we’ll have you all home by tonight.” She smiles before glancing around the intake room. “Dr. Kidd, can you take Bay Three for me please?”

Just as the orderlies are about to wheel Nevaeh away, she shoots her hand out and grabs my wrist. Her fingers are so small they don’t even make it all the way around.

“Thank you, Mr…?” she croaks through her oxygen mask.

My heart melts. “Everybody calls me Del. And it was a group effort from the One-Thirteen.” I jut my chin to indicate Yara. “You focus on getting all better now.”

“Thank you,” her mom tells me as well.

Little Dashel waves at us. “Bye, Team One-Thirteen!” he calls after us.

I chuckle, and for the first time since we got to the beach, I feel some of the weight lift off my shoulders. Yes, it was tough coming face-to-face with the man who caused me so muchheartache. But all that matters is that a little girl is still here with us to tell the tale.

I have to concede that’s mostly down to Colt saving the day, no matter how complicated it makes things for me personally.

During the ride back to the station, I can feel Yara glancing at me. But she takes the hint and allows me to keep all my attention on the road. We haven’t had a call from dispatch, so I’m not surprised that both the truck and the rig are parked out front when we return. It means I can get lost in the sea of people as soon as we hop out into the house.

“Hey, guys!” Lochlan calls from the dining table where most of the squad are crowding around. “You’re just in time for lunch! I made enchiladas.”

“You go,” I tell Yara sincerely. “I’ll do the restock. It won’t take long.”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “You sure?”

I nod. Technically, I’m the senior of us both, so it’s my responsibility. Sometimes, that comes in handy when I need to be alone and decompress for a while.

She claps my shoulder and grins. “I’ll save you some.”

I’m not sure how much longer it is when she comes to find me. I took my time putting the bus back in order, then filled out Nevaeh’s paperwork. I’m in the utility room, putting out some food for the station’s slightly feral gray cat, Smokey. Lochlan’s Dalmatian puppy, Rocky, is headbutting the backs of my knees, trying his best to also get fed. But I know for a fact he’s already had his own lunch as well as plenty of tidbits from the dining table that probably weren’t very good for him.

“So,” Yara says, taking Smokey’s dish from my hand and thrusting a plate of Mexican food into its place. “It doesn’t take a genius to work out you knew that guy from the beach who saved our girl. Your face was lit up like a billboard on Hollywood Boulevard telling a story of shock and mild horror. You eitherhate him,orrrryou used to like him, but something happened andnowyou hate him.”

Sighing, I turn around to lean against the counter, watching Smokey eating on top of the cupboard where Rocky can’t reach her. I twiddle my fork between my fingers, but there’s only so long I can procrastinate.

“I don’t hate him,” I say softly.

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