Female.
Vehicle overturned.
Deceased on arrival.
Marcus’s haunted eyes lock with mine.
I stride toward the flashing lights and commotion of people.
“No.” Marcus’s tone is sharp as he hooks an arm around my waist, hauling me backward. “No. I can’t let you go back there.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I roar. Another pair of hands clamps around my forearms as I fight against him. “It’s not fucking them. It’s not.”
People stare and whisper as I thrash to break free, yelling and shouting.
The life seeps out of me, pooling on the ground and washing away with the water, when Marcus twists me in his hold and presses his forehead to mine. “I’m so sorry, brother. I’m so fucking sorry.”
FIFTY-SIX
HARRIET
Helplessness isa rare emotion I’ve experienced. When my mom died unexpectedly, there was no time to say goodbye. A bright light one second, gone the next.
The same hollow sensation suffocates me as Marcus and I hurry through the hospital corridors. Is this how Warren felt when he came storming to the hospital after the deer jumped out in front of Parker’s car?
This seems worse.
For one, Warren wasn’t conscious to call me the way I did him.
“There’s been a gas explosion. Warren and a probie were in the vicinity and are on their way to the hospital,” Marcus explained. “He’s unconscious but breathing. His turnout gear took most of the brunt.”
We turn the corner, and the crowd of men and women in firefighter gear tells me we’re in the right place. I hover behind Marcus as he strides over to another man I know as Lyle, the station’s lieutenant.
“What happened?” Marcus asks.
Lyle scrubs a hand over his soot-covered face. “The crews were sweeping the area, searching for the main heat source and mitigating risks, when a unit filled with dozens of propane tanks blew. Anders didn’t lose consciousness and said O’Connor dragged him out of the path of the blast just in time.”
“Of course he did.” Marcus curses under his breath. “How are they both?”
“Bruised. Couple of fractured ribs for O’Connor. Both will need to be monitored for concussions, but the docs think they’ll be discharged soon.”
A dam breaks. The stress and worry from the last few hours floods out of me as a broken sob bursts from my lips. I slap a hand over my mouth when the two men swivel to look at me.
“Ah, fuck. Harriet, he’ll be okay.” Marcus pulls me into a hug.
It does little to ease the dread coiling in my stomach, tightening with every second. I want Warren’s arms around me, nothing else.
“Can I see him?” I croak, eyes flitting around the corridor.
“Of course.” Lyle waves down a doctor. “He’s in and out of sleep, and you’re the only person he asks about whenever he comes to.”
“I’ll get you some water while I call his parents,” Marcus says. “Can I get you anything else?”
I shake my head, and Lyle jerks his chin to a half-open doorway. “He’s in there. Might be a little loopy from the painkillers, and his face is a bit beat.”
“Thank you.”
I slowly push the door open, and my heart cracks at the sight. Warren’s huge frame swallows the tiny hospital bed.There’s an oxygen tube under his nose and swelling across the right side of his face. He sleeps peacefully, giving me the opportunity to check every inch of him. I stop at his side and run my fingers through his messy hair covered in dirt and rubble.
