Check and measure the thickness of the ice.
Confirm temperature readings and pressures.
Ensure the installed system under the pond is performing as it should be.
The detailed text came through to me this morning the same time it always does, letting me know everything was reading as it should be and was perfectly safe to be used.
It was smooth and glassy when we arrived this afternoon. There was nothing suggesting there was a problem. Not until Erin’s weight and blades connected with the thin surface, and the chilling crack echoed around us.
The emergency room doors swish open, and my head jerks up. Bella bursts through first, Brodie right behind her. They’re both wearing concerned expressions. Her frantic gaze searches through the sea of people.
When her eyes find me, she wastes no time running over. Her feet pound against the tiles, and she crashes into me with such force it nearly knocks the wind out of me. Her abrupt sobs rattle me to my core.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words tearing my insides apart, rough like sandpaper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Brodie’s arms come around us both, holding us in place. Strong and reassuring.
“It wasn’t your fault, Chase,” Bella croaks in sadness. “You got to her. She’s gonna be fine.”
Her words hit me like a car going a hundred miles an hour. They’re too much. Too heavy for me to hold, and I bolt.
My shoes slap against the tiles as I race down the corridor. It stretches out in front of me, an endless tunnel, the door to the air I need moving farther away.
My knees buckle and hit the concrete as soon as I burst through the exit. Cold air fills my lungs. I punch the ground and let out a strangled cry as I picture her on the gurney.
Closed eyes.
Blue lips.
Pale face.
She looked dead, just like Jack did when I saw him lying sprawled out on the ice.
Strangers pass by, potentially thinking I’m a coward for sitting out here while the girl I let fall through a pond fights for her life. I don’t move, and I don’t leave.
I’m not strong enough to be there with her.
A hand lands on my knee.
I jerk and look up at my friend.
My face scans Brodie’s, searching for an answer to a question I’m too afraid to ask.
The reassuring nod he gives me smashes through the panic inside my ribcage and relief floods through me.
“The doctors say she’s hypothermic but only mildly. Her body temperature is rising steadily, probably because of being under water for a short period of time,” Brodie explains. “She’s regaining consciousness quickly. No signs of confusion or vomiting to indicate a concussion. Just a minor bump to the head. She’s completely fine. They’re going to stitch her up and discharge her.”
She’s okay.
She’s alive.
I haven’t lost someone else.
Erin’s placecomes into view as Brodie pulls up in front of her door and kills the engine. I wanted to see Erin right after Brodietold me that she was awake and responding, but he told me that I was in no condition to see her.
He was right.
He drove me home, told me to shower and pull myself together.
