Page 240 of The Night Shift
I close my eyes and breathe. Once. Twice. Three times. I focus on the sound of air entering my lungs, steadying the madness that’s clawing at my throat. I’m a trauma surgeon. I’ve been trained for this. Under pressure, I stay calm. Ihave to.
I snap my eyes open and press two fingers to his neck. His pulse is weak and thready.
The scalpel is tamponading the bleeding. If I pull it, he’ll bleed out in seconds. No pressure dressing I could jury-rig right now would be enough to compensate. It has to stay in. Has to.
My brain scrambles for options. I fumble for my phone in my back pocket, my hand slick with sweat and blood. I press it awake.
No signal.
Of course, there’s no signal. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I could use the emergency line — but what do I say? That I’ve magically murdered my ex-best friend, and now my fucking colleague is dying on the floor next to me? Yeah, that’ll go over well.
My heart clenches when I hear the faint sound from Cami’s body in the corner. Her fingers twitch. Her breath is shallow, labored. She’s not dead yet. And I feel this strange, twisted relief flood through me. She’s alive. That means I get to take my time with her later. I’m going to savor it.
I crawl toward her and dig into the front pocket of her jeans, not bothering to be gentle. Her car keys jangle in my hand. It’s the first thing tonight that doesn’t slip through my grip.
It takes me a total of nearly an hour — forty-five minutes, maybe more, I lose track — to drag his unconscious body across the cracked concrete and out the rusted side door. It’s brutal. My broken shoulder screams with every inch I move. My whole body is soaked in sweat. I’m sobbing quietly, gasping through clenched teeth, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
Theo would do it for me. I can’t let him down. I can’t let him die. By the time I reach her battered truck parked behind the warehouse, my muscles are trembling so hard I almost collapse. Somehow, I wrestle the back seat door open and hoist him inside, laying him as flat as I can without jostling the blade.
I stumble around to the driver’s side and — fuck.
Cami’s truck. It’s a stick. Theo only taught me how to drive an automatic. Just once, laughing the whole time as I cursed every two seconds. My heart rams into my ribs so hard I hope it cracks them.
I climb into the driver’s seat and slam my shaking hand against the steering wheel. I can almost hear his voice in my head. Calm. Steady. Teaching.
“Relax, Holly.”
“Loosen your grip, love.”
“I’m going to accelerate. You’re going to steer us forward. When I tell you to turn, you turn.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
My legs are jelly. My shoulder is on fire. I press the clutch, jam the key into the ignition, and crank the engine alive. The truck roars beneath me.
I fumble through first gear. Stall it once. Twice.
“Come on,” I hiss.
On the third try, the truck lurches forward.
I jerk a glance over my shoulder.
Theo’s lying across the back seat.
My hands strangle the steering wheel. My vision blurs, but I don't let myself cry. Not now.
Somehow, I drive. Grinding gears. Lurching forward. Wobbling through every shift. There’s a thick fog clinging to the streets, curling low over the cracked asphalt. The sun is starting to rise, a weak smear of pink and gold on the horizon. I glance back again. My heart sinks.
I can’t see the rise and fall of his chest anymore.
Chapter 44
Holly
Four hours later
