IVY
Be calm, he said.
How, I should have asked him.
My heart was on fire.
I was scared. I was scared because I didn’t realize how much I loved him until that moment. How much I couldn’t live without him now. He was…my whole world now. I’d go anywhere. I’d do anything for him. Which was why I stepped out the front door without looking back, worried if he didn’t answer I’d break down or he’d waste energy telling me to go once more and I’d let him down.
I’d pulled my hair into a side ponytail over my shoulder just in case the padding there didn’t hold and blood stained it. My leg was in so much pain each step I took outside made it burn, but I just imagined Ethan’s pain and kept walking. The black pantsuit I wore made it look as if I were one of the many reporters on the scene. Southie had become hell on earth, the sky filling with thick clouds of orange and gray smoke piping out of the car and the house it had crashed into. I didn’t know where to look. There were far too many people, EMTs, police, the FBI, medics, each one running from fire trucks, squad cars, or ambulances. In the back of my mind I felt the ever-present threat of time working against me.
“Where are you?” I whispered, pulling out my phone again, but all the lines were busy.
“Sorry, ma’am, no reporters.” A police officer pushed me back.
“I’m not a reporter,” I said, trying to think quickly. “I’m a doctor. I was close by and rushed over when I heard the news.” I patted the side of me. “Shit, my bag. I’m with Dr. Callahan. Do you know where he is?”
“I got no idea, but thank God more of you are here.” He lifted the tape for me to come under. “Hey, Charlie, we got a doc!”
Shit! He nodded me over to the man on the EMT wheeling over a cop to me. Fake it.
“What have we got?” I asked, rushing over to the man’s side.
“GSW to in hip.”
Suck it up, you little pussy-bitch! I though, glancing at the man breathing heavily and shaking, though he just seemed to be in shook. “Keep both his legs stable, he’ll make it to the hospital. Do you have gabapentin?”
“No. Is he about to have a heart attack?” he asked, glancing down at him.
I didn’t fucking know. He was breathing heavily and gabapentin was the only thing I could fucking think of to help his weak nerves.
“Yes, get him to Sharon Med, Boston is filling up fast!” an older woman said, dressed in scrubs and a mask over her mouth, her brown eyes familiar as she glared at me. “Doctor, a little help here!” she yelled at me, rising to pour water over a firefighter’s neck, his brown-gray hair covered in ash as he coughed down.
“You’re a Callahan not a doctor. I’ve seen your face on the Internet.” She frowned, packing something in the man’s coat. “This smells like you all’s doing—”
“Ouch…” the man grumbled and she bared her teeth at him.
“All? You mean more than one? Is Wyatt Callahan here? Where?”
She nodded, leaving the firefighter and reaching into her own truck, pulling out a med bag. “He’s going to need this and you.” She pulled back my jacket, seeing the wound. “The bullet is still in. You’re going to need this.” She pulled off the paper towel, putting a pad on the wound and it burned before freezing. “Ambulance six.” She nodded toward one of the other ambulances across the street. I didn’t even wait, gripping onto the bag, and rushed.
I ignored the other calls until I saw him, dressed in scrubs, trying to feed a tube down some man’s throat.
“Wyatt!”
His head snapped up and he looked at me, confused. “Ivy, what the hell are you doing over here? Get back across the tape!”
“Where the hell is the police? We can’t have people just running around.” The female EMT grabbed me, but I pulled back.
“La famiglia viene prima di tutto,” I said the line I’d seen written on one of the photos in Giovanni’s shop.
“Seriously, ma’am.”
“Let her go.” Wyatt was already up, taking off his gloves. “He’s gone.”
“You can’t just g—”
“I can. I have. The patient is dead. There are a dozen more I need to see, so unless you’ve gone to medical school in the last five minutes move.” He snapped at her, jumping out of the van and walking with me as I did my best not to run back across the street. “What happened?”
“Not here,” I said gently, trying to make sure no one was looking at me.
“HELP, PLEASE!” A man ran toward us, but I stood between him and Wyatt. “Ambulance seven, he’s injured.”
I didn’t care about anyone else. I just needed to get him to the house.
Thankfully to the side, the burning house began to collapse, drawing the attention of everyone, including the reporters. It felt like hours had passed since I’d last touched the door.
“Ivy Callahan,” I said, feeling the doorknob vibrate once before unlocking.
“What is going on? Where is he?” he asked, but I just closed the door and locked down the house again.
I took a deep breath before yelling, “ETHAN!” I ran back into the living room, seeing the pool of blood now beside him, the body slumped over. “ETHAN!” I dropped the bag I’d forgotten I was holding, kneeling in his blood, my hands shaking as I touched him. He was so pale…so very pale.
“Ethan…look, I got him. I got Wyatt,” I whispered, touching him. “Ethan, open your eyes, come on. WYATT, HELP HIM!”
Flinching first before moving his hands, he moved far too slowly toward Ethan’s neck, so I grabbed them and put them to his pulse.
“He’s not dead. He’s not, so fucking save him instead of everyone else.”
He took a deep breath thankfully, before rolling him over to see the gunshot wound. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but if we get him to the hospital—”
“No hospital.”
“Have you lost your mind? He is barely hanging on!”
“THEN FIX HIM! SAVE HIM!” I screamed. He wasn’t doing anything I couldn’t do! “Did you forget who you are? Who he is? He is a Callahan! You are both Callahans. How bad will it look if he goes out like this barely hanging on? He knew you’d be out there. He told me to find you. So I did. Shot…and…ugh…” I cried out, reaching over to place my hand on his wound. I bit back the pain.
“Ivy—”
“Shot, bleeding, in pain, and having a miscarriage, I found you. So save him, please…please, Wyatt, please. Save him, please,” I cried, putting my head on Ethan’s chest. Everything hurt and I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to think it. How could I tell Ethan when he was in that state when I hadn’t even told him I was pregnant to begin with?
“Get off him, Ivy,” Wyatt said and when he did, he started to rip Ethan’s shirt, exposing his bare abs and chest. “Are you strong enough to move?”
“What do you need me to do?” I wiped my face and nose.
“Dump out what is left in the med kit,” he said, on his knees, pressing around Ethan’s wound. “Hopefully there is a scalp—”
He paused, hearing the mountain of shit that poured out on the ground.
“What do you need?”
“Everything,” he muttered, somewhat amazed. “First the gloves. You put on a pair.”
I handed them to him. But he didn’t put them on, instead reaching for something else. “Pour the antiseptic, the one in the brown bottle, over his wound first then the rest on his stomach. He’s going to need blood, and since that’s the one thing this bag doesn’t have, I have no other choice.”
He muttered, tying a tourniquet over his own left arm. He tore the small alcohol pad on his arm before sticking the needle and tube into his vein, doing the same to Ethan. “You’re going to live and I’m going to hold this shit over you for the rest of your life,” Wyatt muttered, pinching the tube for a moment before blood began to flow. “Wyatt, grow up. Wyatt, remember who you are. My reply to any of your shitty one-liners will now be, do you remember that time when I became your human blood bag while I operated on you?”
He put the gloves on and then reached for a small vial of liquid. “Can you hold this up?”
My arm was on fire, but I nodded anyway, taking it as he switched hands. Then he reached for scalpel, bent over Ethan’s wound and ground out, “Till you’re old, gray, and senile I’ll tell the story about how I left a patient to die to come to save your damn life. And just in case I’m senile too, I’m making this scar a little bigger, so you’ll at least have something to trigger a memory. I’m going to be so damn petty, you’re going to wish I’d just let you die.”
“I’m sure he’ll love that,” I whispered, tired, watching, one hand in the air.
“I don’t care if he loves it or not,” Wyatt muttered to himself. “He’s just going to have to deal.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
He glanced up at me, shaking his head before looking back down, rubbing the blood on his two gloved fingers.
“What is it?”
“For some reason his blood has thickened. It’s the only thing keeping him from bleeding more. Was he taking anything?”
“Does your brother seem like the person to take anything?” I asked him and then thought for a second.
“He must have had something with a lot of protein then…” he whispered to himself, leaning over to see more. “Ivy, see if you can hand me the thing that looks like tweezers,” he said, reaching to the side of him.
“You mean the forceps? Sure.” I reached over to him.
He smirked, reaching inside and pulling out a fractured bullet. He stared at it for a moment. “Who did this to him…to the both of you?”
“My cousins…cousin. It’s only Elroy now.”
“Is he dead?” he asked, never looking away from the work in front of him.
“Wounded but not dead.”
“Good,” he said, pulling out the second fraction of the bullet and dropping it beside him.
“Good?”
He nodded, picking up a suture needle. “There are only so many things a cadaver can teach you. I’m curious to know how many ribs you can take out before the body concaves. Or how long someone can stay awake during an open heart surgery with no painkillers…you know, the painful questions.”
“Ethan might have some painful questions to ask too.”
“Well, Ethan is shit out of luck,” he said loudly, tying his suture. “Because his younger, smarter, better looking brother, who is sharing his precious blood with his stubborn ass, has already called dibs. And as such he must, without bitching, take a step back. After all, what would he do if he didn’t have a doctor in the family?”
“You both are ridiculous.” I smiled, wincing at the ache in my shoulder.
“Just a little longer,” he whispered.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not.” He frowned, cutting the second suture and looking up at me just a little bit drowsy. “When he wakes up, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel worse.”
“You want me to tell him—”
“You suffered. You suffered for him. You’d suffer again, but you prefer not to,” he answered sharply, grabbing a vial of something and injecting it into his IV before moving back to close the wound back again. “If you say fine, he’ll know he failed you so seriously, you can’t even share the mental pain with him. Protect your wife…he failed…just like our father.”
“He didn’t fail me.”
“And that is your job. To defend him to your dying breath against any and every one.” He smiled sadly, slowly working down the side of the wound, his eyes a little droopy. “But call out the bullshit between you both privately.”
“And what is your job, Dr. Know-It-All?”
He paused, running his hand over the stitch before looking up at me. “Set a timer for ten more minutes. I’ll take a break and then eat before looking you over, and give another round too. Give me the bag and go rest.”
“I can—”
“Go rest. You’ve done more than enough.”
I frowned. “You do know I’m older than you.”
He smirked, taking the bag and lifting it up. “No, you aren’t. Callahan years are different…but any more days like this and you’ll be an old lady in no time. Go, Ivy.”
Go, Ivy. It felt like the slogan for the night. Putting the phone down, I peeled myself off the ground, feeling…feeling utterly disgusting. I took myself to a room, the evidence of my desperate search for clothes everywhere. Ignoring it, I walked into the bathroom, stripping down and turning on the showerhead. Not caring about the temperature, I sat down and cried, sobbed, wept, just broke down.
WYATT
“Boss? We’ve been expecting your call.”
“It’s me, Greyson,” I said, watching the security video play on Ethan’s laptop, which he’d left in the kitchen.
“Where is—”
“None of your business. I need you to get Elroy Finnegan’s photo out to everyone, let them know I don’t care how, but I want him caught and I want him caught alive. Anyone who kills him will die in his place.”
He was silent.
“Do not make me have to repeat myself.”
“Is the boss—”
“It is none of your business…look, you’ve made me repeat myself. If you don’t respect it coming from me, just know it’s what my brother wants and wants now. Do not ask questions. Do not speculate. Do not act like this is an odd request. A member of the Callahan has asked for a body…bring me the fucking body.” I hung up, dropping the phone to the left of me and leaning back against the wall beside him. Thankfully color was finally coming back to his skin and barely any blood had gotten onto his bandages. I’d already changed them twice.
“It’s your fault. If your sister trips, it’s your fault. If your brother gets a paper cut, it’s your fault. If the sky falls and harms anyone within this family as it crashes down, it is your fault. That is what it means to be family!” I whispered to him. “Remember when Father first said that to you…he almost killed you because I decided to go over to a friend’s house and you didn’t realize I’d left. It wasn’t your fault. And yet you stood there and never once pointed out it was me who snuck out. It pissed me off. Anything I did you’d get blamed and you just told me not to be stupid but never once complained. Ugh. It was like living with a robot. The day we were at school…and the shots rang out, I didn’t even see you outside, but after the first bullet you’d already had both Dona and me, covering us with your body under the table. Why isn’t he scared? How does he know what to do?”
I rubbed my chest as the pain came back. I wasn’t hurt. I wasn’t sick. But I was in pain. “This is how you knew, right? This…” I bit my lip, inhaling, which hurt, and exhaling hurt worse. “This pain, that’s how you knew. It’s why you never blamed me, why you hovered, even when I came here. Don’t think I’m dumb enough to not notice your moles. I’m sure you even paid off people in the hospital. I told myself to ignore it and you. And I could because I never felt this. You’ve never been the one down before. In fact, have you even gotten the flu, you freak?” I snickered bitterly, again swallowing the lump. “You’ve scared me, you know. I’m never going to get this out of my mind. If Father were alive, would he curse me for this?” I didn’t even need to ask.
He would.
And I should too, I thought, drinking the juice in my hand.
“Sorry for taking so long.”
Ivy walked in wearing a long loose-fitting black dress…she purposely didn’t want anything too tight as her body had just…
“How is he—”
“Were you shot?” I pushed myself off the ground, but I had to brace myself against the wall.
“Careful!” She moved to catch me if necessary, the idiot.
Amused, I leaned back, sliding onto the ground next to him. “Brother, you better wake up quick. You know I have a thing for wounded chicks with big hearts.”
She smacked my head. “I’m your sister! That’s like saying that about Dona.”
“Ugh…” I cringed, wanting to puke. “Forgive me and never make that comparison again.”
She laughed and winced, reaching for her leg, lifting it up, hopping on one foot as she slowly brought herself onto the ground.
“Let me see,” I said, already reaching for it.
“Save your energy. You need to make sure he’s—”
“If he wakes up and you’re not taken care of he’ll kill me, blood bag or not.” He’d finally blame me for something too. Taking her leg, I got the disinfectant, antibiotics, along with a few bandages. “You’re lucky it was a clean through wound. You shouldn’t walk on it and you definitely shouldn’t let it air out like that.”
“And the other one?”
“The other one?” I looked up at her.
She nodded, lifting her blonde hair and showing me her shoulder. “The doctor out there gave me the patch. It helped with the pain, but she said the bullet is still in.”
I was now sure my father would kill me if he were alive. My mother too...and I was her favorite, but even she couldn’t accept this. This woman, who had only been family for a few short weeks, had suffered and fought more for my brother than I had my whole life. She’d walked through hell with a bullet in her shoulder and wound in her leg just for him.
“Wyatt?”
“Is this the same doctor that gave you the med kit for me?” I asked, peeling the patch off her shoulder. It was good for keeping the pain down and pumping emergency antibiotics in.
She nodded. “She looked kinda pissed, though.”
“I could think of a dozen reasons why any doctor would be pissed to be here at the crack of dawn.” I snickered, reaching for the vial of morphine.
“I don’t like taking drugs,” she muttered, looking at the vial. “They gave us stuff all the time at the prison without explaining. I was scared I’d end up a vegetable or comatose with no way of protecting myself.”
“First, that was illegal. Second, you have a family to protect you now always,” I replied.
She closed her eyes as I injected her, then grabbed a second, smaller pair of forceps to pull out the bullet, which luckily hadn’t fractured like Ethan’s. Those things were used by gangs in order to make more damage.
“Can you do me a favor?” she whispered, her eyelids dropping as the drug kicked in. “You know, as your sister…as family.”
“Between you and Dona, I’m sure I’m never resting again.” I smiled, picking up the suture kit.
“Can you tell him for me?”
I froze, staring down at the needle in my hand. There it was again. That…liquid fire spreading from my chest to my throat.
“I never want to speak about it—”
“I understand.” I resumed picking up the suture and moving to her wound. “Just rest, okay?”
She inhaled thankfully and did her best to stay upright. I worked quickly, bandaging the wound in her shoulder first. Then I lifted her up as she drifted off, grabbing a few more things with my other hand before heading up the stairs with her.
She at least looked peaceful as I laid her down on the bed.
Grabbing a pillow, I lifted up her leg and propped it on top of it, cleaning it out gently before doing what I could to bandage her up without moving her too much. Finished, I grabbed all the scrap around me. I rose to my feet only to see the room an utter mess. Angrily, knowing how much of a neat freak Ethan was, I threw away the junk in my hands before moving to pick up the clothes. One by one, gathering them into my arms, I walked into the small closet, where all his shit was hung up perfectly without a wrinkle…everything but a familiar looking black garment bag.
Dropping the clothes, I reached for it. Zipping it down, sure enough, there was a white card with his initials monogrammed in red on the front. Taking it and flipping it over, I read the same message he’d sent every year.
Another year. Still a Callahan. So dress like one and maybe you’ll start to act like one. –Ethan.
Grinding my teeth together, my eyes burned as I crumpled the letter, fighting the…the roar that wanted to rip through me, for her sake as she slept.
“It’s your fault! If your sister trips, it’s your fault. If your brother gets a paper cut, it’s your fault. If the sky falls and harms anyone within this family as it crashes down, it is your fault! That is what it means to be family!”
I understood now…why our father would yell just at him, why he made sure we’d all be there to witness, Ethan, the perfect one, get a tongue-lashing for something we’d done. It was so we’d realize it was him who’d suffer if we failed, not us, and be thankful because if it weren’t for him it would be us, and could we take it like he could?
“I’m sorry I took so long, Pa,” I whispered, walking out with the bag over my shoulder.