Chapter 13
Wyatt was no stranger to being scared, but usually those fears were formless, nebulous things that swirled around in his subconscious and fed his anxiety. When Izzy’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the greenhouse floor, there was nothing imprecise about the fear that gripped Wyatt: it was sharp and cold and immediate.
“Justin!” Wyatt yelled. He dropped his basket and tomatoes scattered everywhere. “Justin! Help!”
It wasn’t Justin who made it there first. It was Lou, yelling into his radio, and then Sam, who must’ve been working farther down a row.
“Izzy,” Wyatt said, dropping to his knees beside him. “Izzy?”
Izzy’s eyes were open, but his gaze was distant. His face was swollen too, and his neck. Wyatt’s hands hovered over him. He was too afraid to touch in case he did something wrong and made it worse somehow.
“Call 911,” Lou said to Sam, leaning over Izzy to check his breathing.
He didn’t ask Wyatt to do it. Maybe because Wyatt was a total fucking wreck, or maybe he was so focused on Izzy that he didn’t even notice Wyatt was there too.
And then Justin was there, and he had an EpiPen, and he was jabbing it hard against Izzy’s thigh and holding it there, and Izzy was pulling in a rasping breath that sounded like hell.
“Okay, “Justin said. “Lou, can we get something under his feet? Izzy, I’m gonna loosen your belt, okay?”
Izzy still looked out of it, confused and dozy. His bleary gaze sought out Wyatt. “Wha…?”
He sounded like a drunk.
“You got stung by a bee,” Wyatt told him, his voice shaking.
Izzy frowned. “‘m’not ‘lergic.”
“Oh yeah,” Justin said. “Yeah, I think you really are allergic, Izzy.”
Izzy’s face was bright red. “Am I?”
“Big time,” Justin told him.
“Oh,” Izzy said, and he sounded so baffled that Wyatt couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that bubbled out of him. It was relief, mostly, because Izzy was going to be okay.
* * * *
Izzy was still dozy when the paramedics arrived, and tried to push them away when they were trying to get him on the gurney, mumbling something about already owing people money.
“Izzy,” Justin said. “Izzy, you have health insurance, okay? You remember all that stuff you signed when you started here?”
Izzy slumped at that, and the paramedics got him on the gurney.
“Where are you taking him?” Justin asked.
“Redlands,” one of the paramedics said.
“Okay,” Justin said. “I’ll meet you there, Izzy.”
Wyatt hung back, unsure of what he wanted to do. No, not unsure. He wanted to go with Justin and meet Izzy at the hospital, but he also didn’t want Justin to guess that he and Izzy were together, and there was no way that Wyatt would be able to hide what he felt. So he hung back, like a coward, as the paramedics drove off with Izzy in the back of the ambulance, and Justin followed them in his truck.
“You okay, Wyatt?” Sam asked him, his brow wrinkled with concern.
A bee buzzed past, and Wyatt shivered. He bent down and began to pick up the tomatoes he’d dropped. They were bruised now, but he could use them to make a sauce instead of his salad. “Yeah.”
He headed home soon after, the sun beating down on the back of his neck.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad said. “Justin said there was an incident with Izzy?”
