Page 34 of Whispers of You
“What kind of call?” It must have been bad to get them to leave their SAR team down two men.
He inclined his head to the side, and we moved down the hall. “Break-in at Dale Clemmons’ place. Their teenaged daughter was home alone.”
Everything in me stilled. “She okay?”
“Thankfully, yes. The intruder took off into the woods. We’re organizing a search now.”
I swallowed the bile crawling up my throat. “Wren take the call?”
Nash’s eyes flashed. “Yeah.”
I muttered a slew of curses.
Nash punched me in the arm, bringing my focus back to him. “Wren can handle herself. She’s been doing this job for a long time. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten a call that triggered her. Won’t be the last, either. It’s part of what makes her uniquely qualified to be a dispatcher. She has an understanding that very few people have.”
That fire inside me burned again, turning everything in its wake to painful ash. “She shouldn’t have tohavethat understanding.”
“No, she shouldn’t. But she does. That’s life. It’s messed-up and rarely fair.”
I turned back to the doors, staring out them as if I could somehow track where Wren had gone. I had a deep urge to run after her, to try to take away a little of that pain. But that would be the last thing she wanted.
“It wasn’t your fault, Holt.”
I jerked around to face Nash.
“It wasn’t,” he pushed. “It was two sick teenagers who never should’ve had access to weapons.”
My nostrils flared, and my breathing turned ragged. “I. Was. Late.”
“And I made you late. Do you think I wanted Wren to get shot? That I wanted her to almost die?”
I shook my head in a rough movement. “Imade her a promise. Me. If I’d been there—”
“Then they would’ve shot you, too.”
“I could’ve protected her.”
Nash lifted his brows. “Did you have a concealed carry permit at eighteen that I didn’t know about?”
I slammed my mouth closed.
“That’s what I thought.” He shook his head. “You saved her life, Holt. You got her breathing again. You stayed with her until the paramedics got there.”
“Stop,” I barked.
Images assailed my mind. Skin so pale, going cold. Life slipping away under my fingertips.
Nash stared at me. “You need to let this go or it’s going to kill you. You’ve already been trying to kill yourself for a decade. Get a clue. The reaper doesn’t want you. Maybe this is your shot to make things right, here and now.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But he did. Nash and I had been the closest in age—Irish twins, my mom had always said. We’d been attached at the hip since the moment he was born. He knew me too damn well.
He leveled that knowing stare on me now. “You think I don’t see you? First the military, war zone after war zone. And then when that calmed down, you had to go private sector so you could choose the riskiest jobs. I bet you took the most dangerous assignments on those missions, too.”
“It’s called being a leader.”
“No, it’s called being reckless.” Anger flared in Nash’s eyes. “Did you ever stop to think what it would do to us if we lost you?”
