“Leo.” His voice sounds kindly firm. “You’ve got a broken pelvis and leg, among other serious injuries. You couldn’t have helped him.”
“He wouldn’t have died alone.”
“Hedidn’tdie alone. You were there.” He squeezes my hand again. “Let me get the nurse. Your parents are en route. They’re flying in right now. I talked to them last night.”
But I still don’t release him. “How long was I out there?”
“They found you a little after six last night. Plane went down at 7:16 in the morning. You were nowhere near a road, and in the middle of the wilderness. Visibility, weather, and low cloud cover impacted their ability to get searchers in there. The chopper crew who found you was from the Coast Guard. They were the last one out, because they still had fuel and they had the only FLIR on board. They were just about to return to base when they located you. You’re damned lucky. You wouldn’t have survived last night. Temps dropped into the thirties.”
I finally release him so he can get the nurse. Lying there, I try to process everything.
The sound of Brad’s sobs echo in my brain.
All three of those agents had wives, children. Well, an ex-wife and kids and a fiancée, in Mike’s case.
Why was I the only one to survive?
Me? The unmarried, childless guy?
It’s a question I suspect will haunt me, because the last thing I feel is lucky.
If anything, I feel cursed.
Especially when I can hear Brad’s sobs every time I close my eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
What are you supposed to do when everything you thought you had a handle on in your life…disappears?
My career, my aspirations, and I don’t even have a significant other to lean on for emotional support.
My family? Yeah, sure, they love me.
Except it’s like I can feel my mom’s silent “told you so” every time the subject of what I’ll do next comes up.
The last thing they want to hear is that I plan on trying to re-qualify to return to work.
Kayley, who also has a psychology degree—and went on to earn her doctorate and go into private practice—is fuckingdyingto analyze me. I can feel it despite her knowing that, professionally, she shouldn’t. She does this in small degrees by working in questions about my goals, and what I feel I’m trying to accomplish, and what I fear about trying something different in life.
For fuck’s sake, she’s as opaque as a glass of water. I know it’s coming from a place of love but I’moverit.
Dad offered that he and Mom would pay for me to go back to college and get my doctorate. If not in psychology, maybe in languages, or something.
Something…safe.
Boring.
And that I can keep living with them while I do it, too.
I told him thanks but no thanks, I was okay.
Is that the problem?AmI an adrenaline junky?
I never really thought of myself as one before now. I avoid problems whenever possible. I don’t seek out confrontations. An integral part of my job was threat assessment and risk mitigation.
Toavoidandpreventproblems.
Except I do miss the constant movement, always being alert, working with a group of guys who sometimes felt like we all shared a brain in terms of responding to a situation.
