Page 93 of What Hurts Us

I put my hand on his chest. “That’s okay. I’ll put them in water when I get back. Danville to Duke is a short run.”

He hesitated, though I could tell he understood the subtext. I was promising him that I would make it back in one piece.

“Cal,” I said, easing up onto the toes of my boots. “I will call you as soon as we land, and I’ll put those roses in water my damn self.”

“Stay safe, Wonder Woman.” He kissed me softly. “Come home to me.”

I pressed my hand to his heart. “I love you, Callum.”

* * *

I was dead on arrival.Not in the literal sense, of course. The call I left Callum to run was exactly what I had expected. A gang hit one of the high-ranking men in a rival gang during a shootout. Nearly every emergency medical professional in the area had been called to the scene. Two choppers and four ambulances responded with every crew member in Kevlar. We had three critical patients, four with non-life-threatening injuries, and five who sustained injuries not compatible with life.

The county coroner brought a slew of body bags with her.

The hospital campus was a shitshow. Hospital security hadn’t been read into the situation, creating a cluster fuck of a heightened situation around the building.

Two other flight teams were unloading patients on the helipad when we approached, and the ground was a hot zone. We braced, working through a second blood transfusion from our onboard stock of O-neg, while Odin did a fancy evasive maneuver to get us higher in altitude. Some days it seemed as though he wished he was still flying Apaches instead of our clunker of a medicopter.

Odin put us in a holding pattern until the rooftop helipad cleared, and we could turn over care to the surgical team.

Back at the base, pink water splashed onto the asphalt as Odin hosed out the bay. With the enthusiasm of a sloth, AB inventoried and restocked the supplies we had used to save someone who, by some standards, didn’t deserve to be saved.

But we weren’t the judge, jury, or executioner. We were nurses. Medics. EMTs.

Life savers.

I took over charting for this call, detailing everything that had happened in the computer system so that our business manager could squeeze the insurance companies for all they were worth.

The moon shone bright, reminding me of my midnight drive with Callum to the lookout on the mountain. What I wouldn’t give for another night like that instead of the one I’d just had.

My phone chimed—an oddity during the witching hour.

Callum:How are those roses doing?

I was surprised. I meant to call him when we got back, but the run had taken longer than expected. I didn’t want to wake him up. The text was his way of indirectly asking me if I was okay and if we were back. I hurried away from the desk, snagged a coffee mug out of the dish drainer, and filled it with water before grabbing the roses and plunking the stems in.

Layla: See the attached photo for proof of floral life. What are you doing awake? It’s almost 3AM.

Callum:Went to bed but set an alarm so I could wake up and check on you. Wanted to make sure you were safe.

My heart exploded.

* * *

By the timeI got off work, Cal was on duty. I crashed on the couch and awoke on the couch. There were a few times when I had come home and Cal had already left for work. Each time I missed being carried up the stairs to bed. Maybe it was a little high-maintenance diva of me, but I loved it. Sometimes I’d pretend to sleep, and sometimes I’d just curl into his chest and savor the feel of his strength surrounding me.

I peeled my drool-crusted cheek off the throw pillow and stretched out like a cat. My joints ached, and my head throbbed.

Need caffeine.

I zombie-walked to the fridge and pawed around. There were a few measly leftovers from where Cal had cooked the other night, but nothing that made my mouth water.

My phone chimed, and I swiped across the screen. Gran was summoning me to her house.

Well, I guess that was that.

A few minutes later, I was pulling into her neighborhood. Cars lined the street in front of Gran’s house, some of them looking oddly familiar.

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