Page 123 of Distress Signal
“Great. I’m going to put this cervical collar on you, then hand you over to the boys.”
Leaning me forward as far as she could, Sutton slipped the collar around my neck and fastened the Velcro straps. Discomfort with the unnatural position set in, and I was already counting down the minutes until I could take it off.
At last, satisfied with her work, Sutton moved out of the way, and the firefighters took her place. There were a lot of machine sounds, drilling, slamming, and winching. Finally, the door popped open. Someone reached in, cut my seatbelt, and weaved it away from my body.
There was a halt in progress as the team debated the best way to extract me, Crew ultimately coming to my rescue with a suggestion that sounded like it would cause me the least amount of distress.
“They’re going to put a hydraulic jack down here,” he said, motioning to the space by my feet, “and lift the steering column off your lap enough to pull you out. It’s going to hurt, but it’ll be quick, okay?
I nodded again. I was grateful he and everyone else around was keeping me in the loop on what was happening. It went a long way to quelling my nerves.
“You’re gonna be okay, belle,” Finn said, giving me what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring smile that was more of a grimace.
The men continued to work, the sounds of the jack filling the space as it lifted the steering column. I hadn’t realized how heavy it was, how much feeling I’d lost in my legs, until the weight disappeared and that prickling, pins and needles sensation took over.
With that out of the way, a backboard appeared and wassituated at my side. On the count of three, three men gripped me, turning me and pulling me out.
A cry left me as my arm jostled, and I breathed harshly through my teeth, waiting for the worst of the pain to abate.
Finn was at my side a moment later, helping load me onto a stretcher, then grabbing my hand as Sutton and her partner wheeled it across the grass toward the ambulance.
thirty-five
. . .
FINN
To sayI was furious with Reagan would’ve been an understatement, but my rage was tempered by my worry.
When we arrived at the hospital—Dusk Valley Memorial, thankfully; her injuries weren’t serious enough to warrant a trip to Boise—they wheeled her back for examination and tests. I was forced into the waiting room.
My mind ran rampant with worst case scenarios. Obviously, she’d broken her arm. The bones had been visible, for fuck’s sake. But what about her legs? Back?Head?
Dropping heavily onto one of the world’s most uncomfortable chairs, I propped my elbows on my knees and my head on my hands. Digging my palms into my eyes. So lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed my family come in.
Mama and Aria. Trey. Lane. Crew, West, and Aspen.
My twin sat beside me, hand falling to my shoulder.
He didn’t speak, but I knew what he’d say if he did.
She’s going to be fine. It’s not your fault.
I shot him a glare, and his hand lifted.
The fuck it wasn’t my fault. I never should’ve left her alone.
Then again, what hadshebeen thinking, leaving the house by herself and not telling anyone where she was going?
And where the fuck had she been?
I had so many questions, and Reagan would be lucky if I ever let her out of my sight again—at least until we found the fucker who was after her.
A gentler touch found my opposite shoulder, and I shifted my head to find Aria.
“What are you even doing here?” I asked, my gentle tone at odds with my distress.
“Reagan is family,” she said with a shrug.
