The security guard she was looking for moves closer, like he thinks I’m going to cause trouble. Maybe I am. My hands won’t stop shaking. My pulse is bright white behind my eyes. My breath keeps snagging in my chest like my lungs are folding in on themselves.
“Please,” I whisper, because that’s all I have left.
And that’s when the double doors slam open behind her so hard they crack against the stopper.
“¿Dónde está mi muchacho? Move! MOVE, LET ME THROUGH!”
I’m too wrapped in panic beating through my ribs to worry about us. Her sharp tongue short-circuits the whole damn emergency room.
Sofia, she’s here. Barreling through the PERSONNEL ONLY doors like she owns the building. Like the savior my brother thinks and says she is. Not one person dares to stop her. Not the nurse or the security guard.
Her lanyard swings from her neck. Her eyes are blown wide when she sees me. Her curls are wild, falling out of her bun. She got my message. Answered the call to help me. Help my brother. I almost collapse in relief. If anyone will help me, she will.
She moves fast, shoving past a paramedic and ducking under a gurney side rail. Then her hand is on my arm, dragging me away from the nurse and the front desk before I can even make sense of it. She looks like a thunderstorm. The good kind that breaks the heat and brings fat rain to cover the open roads.
“What happened?” she demands, breathless, eyes searching my face like she’s cataloging every emotion I’m too shattered to hide. “Where is he? Did you see him? Did they tell you anything?”
I shake my head because the words won’t come. My throat is too tight to let anything through.
“Dios mio! We will find out.”
Without thinking, without asking, without caring that a dozen people are waiting to be seen, she grabs my wrist and weaves us through the chaos. She knows exactly how to bulldoze through the system that employs her. She drags me through a set of security doors with her badge swipe.
Even though she shouldn’t bring me back here. Even though this is against every rule in the book, no one stops her. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes. Maybe it’s the speed she hauls me down the hall. Maybe it’s because everyone knows not to mess with her. Whatever it is, I’m so, so grateful.
“What the . . . where are we?”
Once the doors swing shut behind us, the noise drops in half. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. The air feels colder. My breath sounds too loud in my ears. She turns to me, her hand still wrapped around my wrist. She knows I’m not okay. Not even close. Terrified out of my mind.
“Papito,” she whispers, hand leaving my wrist to flatten over my chest like she’s grounding me with her touch. It’s working.
“Look at me.”
I do.
I can’t not look at her.
She’s my lifeline.
“Breathe like I taught your brother.” I hesitate, shaking my head, and I don’t remember anything calm or helpful. She mimics it with a four-count or six-count, I don’t even know. I stare into her face, watching her breath. “I need you to be calm if we’re going to find him.”
Her thumb strokes once over my sternum, small but devastating.
“He’s conscious, remember? You said that in the message.”
I don’t remember what I said in the messages. Not one single word.
“We handle the rest together.”
Together.
I hang on her word like a promise and commitment. A far better one word than space. I don’t know how or what it means, but I’ll take it together in whatever form she means it.
“I can’t lose him,” I rasp, swallowing hard and covering her hand with my own.
“You won’t, Papito.” The certainty in her tone, face, and action, I believe. She sees the worst of the worst every day. If she’s saying this, it’s true. It cracks something deep inside me. “Now come on. Let’s go find our Nene.”
Our.
