Page 72 of What Hurts Us

I rolled over, lying down beside her and pulling her into my arms. “Hey, I’m not gonna do anything that doesn’t make you feel good. But I still wanna know why.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. Instead, she adjusted the pillow beneath us and tucked into my chest. “A boyfriend diditonce in college, and it was atrocious. He wasn’t into it at all. Just kind of laid there and … licked. It was so uncomfortable and completely mortifying. He just kept popping his head up like a gopher every five seconds.Lick, lick, look. Lick, lick, look.I wanted to bash him over the head like whack-a-mole just so he’d stop. And afterward, he got mad that I wasn’t acting grateful.”

“What I gather from that was that he was incompetent and made you feel bad for his insecurity.” I kissed her head. “And you never tried after that?”

“No. If I was with a guy long enough to get to that point, I just told him I wasn’t into it.”

“Maybe you should try again with someone who knows what they’re doing.” I hitched her thigh around my hip, rocking my dick between her legs. “Because eating your pussy is one of my fantasies.” I kneaded her tit, teasing her nipple into a point before drawing it into my mouth. I sucked lazily as Layla whimpered.

“I haven’t shaved in like … four days,” she finally stuttered.

I released her tit and moved to the other one. “So?” I slid my hand between her legs and cupped her sex. “You’re a grown fuckin’ woman. A gorgeous one, I might add. I expect you to look like it.”

“Cal,” she whined, rolling her hips.

“You do whatever makes you happy in your own body. But as for me, I don’t give a shit if you’re bare or not.”

“Maybe another time.” Her eyes were heavy. The adrenaline that had been burning off her skin when she got home from the base had slowly fizzled into smoldering coals.

I cupped the back of her neck and pressed my lips to her forehead. “You gonna sleep for a bit?”

“Just a little.” She yawned. “I can go to my room.”

“Stay here,” I told her, gently rubbing her back until her breathing steadied into soft snores. “Right here.”

25

LAYLA

“This is AirCare One. Tail number: November-Eight-Five-Niner-November-Charlie.” Odin’s voice crackled through my helmet headset as we made a looping descent over the expansive Chapel Hill hospital campus. “Ready to land.”

“AirCare One, what is your S-BAR?”

AB patted the top of her helmet, letting me know that she was going to relay the situation, patient history, our on-scene assessment, and recommendation for the clinical handover.

My professional assessment was that this was the worst day I had worked in a long time.

We were en route with a pediatric patient who was flying alone. His mom was being transported by the ground crew to Durham while his dad was in a body bag. It was the aftermath of a gruesome vehicle-versus-vehicle. An SUV floored it through a light that had already turned red. The family, in their tin-can sedan, had already started making their way through the intersection. The SUV slammed into the driver’s side, killing the father and crushing the mother. The boy, who should have been rear-facing, was turned to the front in his car seat. The impact nearly snapped his neck. It was a tragedy and a miracle all in one. When the mom woke up, she would have to reckon with gratitude and grief.

The little guy was still and sedated as we descended toward the helipad. I double-checked the medication titration before parking my ass in the jump seat to land.

AB and I were silent as we headed to the EMS lounge to chart after turning over care to the emergency department. We had lost three patients today—a heart attack, an overdose, and a stroke.

Apart from the family that had been ripped apart in the blink of an eye, the OD patient weighed heavily on me.

She had been a college student. Her roommate found her passed out on their bathroom floor.

“I don’t understand,” the roommate cried. “She was on the Dean’s list. She had pledged to her top sorority. Everyone liked her. She has a boyfriend. Her parents are coming to visit next week. You have to save her!”

AB and I did everything we could. We ended up intubating mid-flight when she stopped breathing. Still, she coded before we landed and never revived.

Instead of getting dressed up for the Kappa Delta Lambda party this weekend, she would be in a casket.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the Chapel Hill skyline as we lifted off the helipad.

In the seat in the front beside Odin, AB snapped a photo of the sunrise. “I kinda wanna go home and go to bed. I kinda wanna go get good and drunk.”

Both sounded like viable options, but with all the calls we flew, I hadn’t slept since I showed up at the base at seven yesterday morning. I was running on a Snickers bar and my fifty-eleventh cup of coffee.

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