Chapter Seven
Tyler
Tyler was driving as fast as he could without getting pulled over, but Helena didn’t seem to be getting any closer. He could barely process the doctor’s words as he drove.
“Your brother is here. And he’s alive. But he’s insisting that only you come. He doesn’t have long, Hunter. You need to get here as quickly as you can.”
Tyler had checked flights when he got in the car, but it would have taken him as long to wait for a plane and then puddle-jump to Helena as it would have to just drive there while pushing the speed limit. Nothing about this made any sense; how could the brass have gotten this so wrong? And why did Declan only want to see him? Why didn’t he want to see Bronwyn or their parents?
When he pulled up outside of the military hospital five hours later, he was almost afraid to get out of the car. Declan was inside, who knew how badly hurt, and this may be their last chance to talk. What would be say? What did Declan want to tell him? Tyler had been less afraid facing down the barrel of a gun in Fallujah than he was of walking through the sliding doors of the hospital.
Eventually, though, he had to get out of the car, and he walked into the hospital, where he hesitantly approached the woman at the reception desk.
“Ma’am, I’m here for Declan Hunter. Can you tell me what room he’s in please?”
The woman punched a few keys into the ancient computer in front of her and then looked up at Tyler with a disappointed expression.
“He’s not in a room, sir. He’s in the ICU, fifth floor. But I’m only authorized to let his brother, Tyler up. Do you have ID?”
Tyler pulled his military ID from his wallet and the woman directed him to the elevators. Every step he took felt like he was trudging through wet cement, but nothing prepared him for what he saw when he got to the ICU. There was only one man inside, and Tyler recognized him as Declan by his crystal blue eyes, their mother’s eyes. But the rest of him was wrapped in bandages, which seemed to be covering third degree burns all over his body. An oxygen mask was secured over his mouth, and every so often, he’d twitch, as if the pain were registering through sleep.
Tyler didn’t know what to do, so he just stood there, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a small female doctor standing behind him.
“You must be Tyler. We wanted to put him in hyperbaric oxygen tent and start skin grafts from donor skin, but he wouldn’t let us. He just said to get you here, and give him pain medication. I’m not sure how much it’s helping though. I think he’s just waiting for you.”
Tyler felt a sob catch in his throat. What the hell was his little brother thinking?
“He won’t let you treat him? Why the hell not? And how did he even get back here like that? I don’t… understand any of this.”
The doctor pointed to some chairs in the corner, and Tyler followed her to sit.
“To be honest, the fact he survived the flight back was a damn miracle. But he insisted on being here, on seeing you, before… The reality is, even with grafts, even with the best treatment we can give him, he has third degree burns over 90% of his body, and his lungs suffered a lot of fire damage. If the infection doesn’t get him… It will be lung failure. I’m sorry, Tyler. But he pretty much tied our hands from the start.”
Tyler nodded. “Can I go in?”
“Yes, please. Take as much time as you need.”
Tyler walked in the room and watched Declan struggling to breathe, even with the oxygen mask on. He didn’t say anything; he just sat by Declan’s side until Declan opened his eyes and say his brother. With a shaking hand, he reached up and pulled the oxygen mask away.
“You’re here,” he whispered with a rasp in his voice. Tyler tried to hide the tears in his eyes.
“Where else would I be, man? If you wanted me to visit, there were easier ways to see me.”
He could tell by Declan’s eyes that he was smiling. But there was still a sadness there that was breaking Tyler’s heart.
“Tyler, I want you to take care of mom and dad. And Bronwyn. I never did right by her, but you can. Make sure she’s happy. And safe. Whatever it takes. Please, Tyler, promise me.”
Tyler reached out and put his hand on his brother’s. He didn’t know how Declan knew; maybe it was just the clarity that came with the knowledge he was nearing the end. But Tyler looked deep in his brother’s eyes and said with the sincerest voice he could muster,
“I promise, Declan. I promise.”
* * *
Tyler spent the next week by his brother’s bedside, talking, comforting, doing anything he could to make him comfortable, all while fielding prying calls from his parents. At Declan’s request, he told them that he was just finishing up some paperwork and tying up loose ends of his discharge, but Tyler hated lying to them. Yet, it was Declan’s wish that no one else see him like this. He wanted his brother with him, and no one else. It was the least Tyler could do.
And on Friday night, when Declan took his last breath, Tyler was holding his hand, reiterating his promise to take care of their family, and make sure that Bronwyn would never be alone. He didn’t know how he was going to explain any of this to his parents, because despite the fact Declan wished them to believe he’d died on the battle field, this felt like a secret too painful to bear alone.