It felt like I couldn’t descend the stairs quick enough, and that we were all moving in slow motion as we climbed in the truck. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I heard anything anyone was saying.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I glanced back as Logan pulled the rig out onto the street.
“She’s gonna be okay.” Zack’s slight smile did nothing to ease my worry.
I just needed to get there. To get eyes on her and see for myself that she was okay.
I held back a scream of frustration as Logan slowed the rig when we approached a red light. The lights and sirens were already on, but he blew the horn as we approached, making sure the intersection was clear before speeding up once more.
Jesus. The scene came into view—the ambulance half up on a curb, tipped onto its side— and I took a deep pull of air through my nose. I wasn’t going to be of any help to her if I didn’t have my head on straight.
She was a victim of a bad accident.
Not my friend.
Not Lyla.
I jumped out and headed toward the rear of the ambulance, catching sight of Kyle climbing out of the back. One eyebrow raised as he took in me and the rest of the crew behind me.
“Figured we’d get here first and help,” I explained.
Kyle held his wrist against his body and gave me a brief nod.
“What happened?” All I wanted to do was get to Lyla, but I needed to stay professional, assess the full situation. I couldn’t just go off half-cocked. There was a process to this, and the more information we knew the better we could do our jobs and get everyone out safely. But the sight of the ambo laying on its side sat like lead in my gut and screamed at me to do something.
“Someone ran us off the road.”
His tone had the hairs on my arms standing up, and I glanced around. Not another vehicle stopped nearby. But that conversation could wait.
“You okay?” Seth asked Kyle, probably noticing the same thing I did.
“Yeah, I think it’s just a sprain. Help me get them stabilized. I didn’t want to risk moving them by myself.”
I nodded and stepped into the back of the ambulance,wanting nothing more than to go straight to Lyla, but knowing I’d have more room to work if we got the older man out first. “Need to move the stretcher out first.”
We worked quickly to carry the patient out on the gurney. As Seth and Kyle began assessing him for further injuries, I turned back, kneeling by Lyla’s side.
She groaned, opening her eyes and looking at me. Some of the tension I’d been holding drained away as relief flooded me.
Thank God.
“Kyle?” she mumbled, her eyebrows pulled together as she searched my face.
Shit. Confusion. Definitely a concussion. “Shh. Don’t move.” I used my hands to assess and feel for bleeding and injuries. She also had a dislocated right shoulder—I could see that easily—but couldn’t tell if anything was torn or broken. The cut near her right temple, close to her hairline, looked superficial, but it would probably need a few stitches.
“What do you need?” Jay asked, climbing in behind me.
Lyla flinched and howled in pain as I ran my hands over her right side.
Fuck. That wasn’t good. Bruised ribs for sure. Hopefully none were broken.
“Need a neck brace and a sling for her arm,” I said as I finished my assessment. Her breathing was fine, but the fact that she just lost consciousness again worried me.
I took the brace from Jay and placed it around her neck, then cradled her arm in the sling, securing it snugly across her chest.
I glanced back at Jay. “Alcohol pad and bandage.”
She hissed as I cleaned the cut. I couldn’t help but smile. Sensing pain was a good thing. She was going to be fine.
