"Don't move," Brian said gently. "You were in an accident. Help is coming."
"My... my car." Her voice was thin, confused.
"Don't worry about the car. Just stay still. Can you tell me your name?"
"Eleanor." She blinked, winced. "Eleanor Marsh."
"Eleanor, I'm Brian. You're going to be okay. The ambulance will be here any minute."
"It hurts." Her hand moved toward her chest.
"I know. Try not to move. Can you take a deep breath for me?"
She tried. It came out shallow, but she did it. No gurgling, no wet sounds. Probably not a punctured lung.
"Good. That's good. Keep breathing just like that."
Sirens in the distance, getting closer. Brian felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. She was conscious, responsive, and breathing on her own. She was going to make it.
The ambulance arrived in a screech of brakes, and the paramedics took over with practiced efficiency. Brian stepped back to give them room and gave a quick report as they worked. Mechanism of injury. Vitals when he'd first assessed her. The fuel leak and the extraction. They nodded, loaded Eleanor onto a stretcher, and had her in the ambulance within three minutes.
One of the paramedics, a woman Brian didn't recognize, paused before climbing into the back. "Good work out there. You a medic?"
"Used to be."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Showed today. You probably saved her life, getting her out before that fuel ignited."
The ambulance pulled away, sirens wailing. Brian stood on the sidewalk, watching it disappear around the corner, his heart still pounding.
Hank appeared beside him. "You okay?"
Brian looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood, Eleanor's blood, and shaking. Not from fear. From adrenaline. From the rush he hadn't felt in two years.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I think I am."
Hank handed him a rag from his back pocket. "You didn't hesitate. Not for a second."
"I didn't think. I just..." Brian wiped the blood from his hands, watching it stain the cloth. "It was like muscle memory. The training kicked in, and everything else went quiet."
"That's because it's who you are." Hank's voice was matter-of-fact, no judgment in it. "You've been pretending it isn't for two years, but it's still there. It'll always be there."
Brian didn't answer. He was thinking about Eleanor Marsh. About the way her eyes had opened when he'd talked to her, the relief in her voice when he'd told her help was coming. He'd done that. He'd kept her calm, kept her stable, gotten her out of that car before it could catch fire.
He'd saved her life.
For two years, all he'd been able to see when he closed his eyes was Lily. The little girl he couldn't save. Her face had haunted him, followed him from Missouri to Copper Moon, whispered in his ear every time someone mentioned EMS or fire departments or emergencies.
But right now, standing on this sidewalk with blood on his hands and sirens fading in the distance, he could see something else too. Eleanor Marsh, alive and conscious, on her way to the hospital. The delivery guy who'd held her head steady when Brian told him to. Colby jumping in to help. Hank, handing him a rag as if it were just another day at the shop.
He couldn't save everyone. He knew that. Some calls went wrong, no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried. Lily had taught him that in the most brutal way possible.
But he could save some. And wasn't that worth something? Wasn't that enough?
"I need to call Dawson," he said.
Hank's eyebrows rose. "The EMS chief?"
"She’s been asking me to volunteer for months. I keep putting her off, making excuses." Brian took a breath, let it out slowly. "I'm done making excuses."
