When we arrive on the scene, Charlie parks the rig at an angle, blocking off the area. There are four vehicles involved, and one has the front completely smashed in. Police have cordoned off the intersection, diverting the early morning traffic to other routes.
Once the chief has assessed the scene, he comes over and gives out the commands. “We have five patients. Three adults, two children. We have one red tag, two yellow, and two green. The red-tagged patient is in the silver Mercedes, trapped from the waist down. Lieutenant Bowen, I need you to oversee O’Connor and Spencer. Time is critical, and we need to get her extracted fast before she loses too much blood. Wilson and O’Byrne, I need you to attend vehicle two. The blue Jeep. The patient has a head wound. He’s conscious but also mentioned he has back pain and is unable to feel his legs…”
I listen as the chief gives the remaining instructions, and then we get to work.
As I walk with O’Connor and Spencer toward the Mercedes, my eyes land on a midnight-blue Jeep, and my heart lurches in my throat.
Elliot has the same car. And the chief mentioned it was a male.
Fuck. It can’t be him.
No. No. No.
As panic sets in, I pick up the speed of my steps, and when I get close enough, I look through the shattered window. A sigh of relief escapes me when I see the flash of dark hair.
The man’s pained eyes land on me, and I hate the relieved feeling in my chest over the fact it isn’t Elliot. Is this what it’s going to be like now that my feelings for him are getting stronger? Every time I see something remotely relating to Elliot while I’m at work, am I going to go into a panic, thinking it’s him?
“I’m Lieutenant Bowen. You with me, sir?” I ask.
“Yeah, my body hurts,” he groans, and when he goes to move, I hold my hand out to stop him.
“Don’t move, sir. My team is on their way to help.”
As soon as Lucas and Charlie are close, I jog over to the Mercedes to assist O’Connor and Spencer. I cover the patient with a protective sheet to keep her safe from any debris, and keep her calm as they cut part of the roof and remove the door. We move out of the way for the paramedics, who step in to stabilize the patient for extraction before transferring her onto a backboard.
Luckily, we get everyone out safely, and those who require medical assistance are transferred to the local hospital. By the time we pull the rig back into the station, my body aches, and my eyes are so dry from exhaustion. Our shift has officially ended, and I don’t hang around any longer than necessary.
I fire a quick text off to Walt, letting him know I’m going straight to Elliot’s. As I drive around the block to Elliot’s apartment, I’m feeling spooked by how I reacted earlier at the scene. Distractions can cause mistakes, and mistakes can cost someone their life. I need to get my emotions in check because I can’t risk that happening.
The moment Elliot opens the door, he jumps into my arms and wraps his legs around my waist.
“Fuck, I missed you. It’s crazy that I missed you, right?” he mumbles into my neck.
I kiss the side of his head and hide my smile in his hair. “If it’s crazy, then I’m right there with you because I missed you too.”
Without putting him down, I walk into his apartment and close the door behind me. I take off my shoes and carry him into the living room before falling back onto the couch. He settles into my lap, knees on either side of my hips and loosening his grip on my neck.
I thread my fingers through his hair and give it a gentle tug to lift his head. Those green eyes lock with mine, and I smile.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.”
With my fingers still buried in his hair, I gently pull his head closer so I can kiss him. He melts instantly, parting his lips and greeting me with his tongue.
“How was the rest of your trip?” I ask when we finally pull apart.
“It was okay. Kenny started in net last night, which was the plan all along, but I still took it personally.”
“Did you manage to speak to the psychologist?”
He nods, his fingers fiddling with the strings of my hoodie. “We’re going to set up a meeting, but need to figure out when it’ll work best in case it messes with my head before a game.”
I rub my hand up his back in smoothing strokes. “That’s good. I am sorry for bringing it up the way I did. I feel like an asshole.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. I read up about it on the plane, and so much of it made sense. I found this thread of people who were diagnosed as an adult, and there was this one thing people kept bringing up from when they were at school. Their teachers always told their parents if they applied themselves better and paid attention more, they would have better grades, and my teachers used to always say that about me. It’s like I struggled in a lot of my classes because things didn’t make sense to me.” He sighs. “As I was reading through all the comments, I was like yeah, that’s me. Yep, I do that. And that.”
He ducks his head, almost in embarrassment. But I won’t have him beating himself up over this.
