Chapter 68
Colby
I’m trembling. Twitching. Struggling to breathe. The paramedic tending to me in the back of this ambulance—Dave Rutherford—is actually a good buddy of mine. An honorary brother from way back at the fire academy. In fact, mere hours ago, I happily chatted with Dave at the main firehouse after slaying my fitness test.
I pull down the oxygen mask covering my mouth. My hand is shaking violently. “Seriously, though, can we turn off the sirens, brother?” I ask, my teeth chattering. “I think it’s a bit excessive, don’t you?”
Dave pushes the mask over my mouth again. “Your heart rate is skyrocketing. And that gash on your head is pretty bad. You’re gonna need a shitload of stitches.”
“But you swear I’m not shot, right?” I say. “You wouldn’t lie to me about that to save me from freaking out?”
He smiles. “You’re not shot. But you sure look like it.” He shoves the mask over my mouth and nose again. “Now keep the mask on and breathe, Morgan.”
I inhale a deep, calming breath, and let out a long, shuddering exhale of relief. My relief isn’t for myself, though. It’s for Lydia and the kids. I can’t imagine how fucked up they would have been to get a phone call telling them I’d been shot and killed today on my way to pick up barbeque and ice cream for our celebration. I think it’s safe to say Lydia never would have recovered. And how the hell would the kids have moved on from news like that? Would they grow up thinking every man they love is destined to get shot in the head after rushing into a stranger’s house to save a woman from her abusive husband?
My body convulses violently. I’m not sure if I’m in shock. Or if it’s the blood loss. Or maybe PTSD kicking in? I have no idea what’s going on with me, but I’m a fucking wreck.
I pull my mask down. “I’ve got to call my lady. She’s expecting me. She’s probably worried sick.”
Dave pushes the mask back on. “You’re not in any shape to be calling her right now. If you call her now, you’ll do more harm than good. Text her now or call her from the hospital after you’ve calmed down. Or give the phone to me. I’ll call her, if you want.”
“I’m not going to text her,” I say. “And it has to be me who calls her.”
“Then give it a minute.”
Shit. I think it’s safe to say Lydia’s going have something close to a complete mental breakdown when she finds out what’s happened, regardless of the fact the bullet from that gun happened to miss me. By mere inches, by the way. That was clear to me once I saw the placement of the bullet hole in the wall.
Oh, for the love of fuck, I don’t want Lydia to have to find out about this. And I certainly don’t want her to see me like this. I haven’t seen myself yet, but I can’t imagine I look good. I’ve got blood gushing out of my head. My left eye is already swollen shut, so I must have a doozy of a shiner if not some broken facial bones. Shit. If only I could hide this situation from Lydia somehow... Hey, maybe I could clean myself up and race back to Lydia’s place with some barbeque and she’d never know? Yeah, I could tell her I tripped on the way out of the barbeque place or something and—
“Morgan, look at me,” Dave barks.
I look at him. My teeth are still chattering.
“Hold up your hands, Colby.”
I do as I’m told. They’re visibly trembling.
Dave raises his hands. “Pull on my fingers.”
“Dude, I’ve got three brothers. I’m not falling for that.”
We both laugh.
“Pull as hard as you can,” Dave insists.
I do it. And even I can tell my grip is fucked up.
“I think you’ve got a pretty bad concussion, man. Are you feeling confused?”
“No.”
“What year is it?”
I have to think about it for a few seconds, but I’m able to tell him the year.
He asks me a series of simple questions and I stumble over a few of them.
“Yeah, you’ve got a concussion,” Dave concludes. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks.”
“Why would I take that bet?”
“Just sayin’.”
“Hey, can we turn the sirens off?” I ask. “Please? I’m getting a headache.”
“No. And, by the way, if you saw yourself right now, you’d know the sirens have nothing to do with your headache.”
I look at my watch and try to figure out how much time has elapsed since Lydia and I spoke about me coming home with barbeque. Maybe I can get to her house in time for her not to notice I’ve been gone an awfully long time? But for some reason, I can’t compute the amount of time that’s elapsed from the time I left for Lydia’s house until now.
Dave slips the oxygen mask over my mouth and nose again. “Breathe deeply, brother. Just breathe. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
I pull down the mask. “I’ve got to call my lady.”
“How about I call your mom and we let her call your lady?”
I shake my head. “Fuck no, don’t call my mother. Momma Lou must never, ever know what happened today. Promise me, Dave.”
Dave laughs.
“I’m not joking. Never, ever.”
Dave lifts up the compress he’s pressing against the wound in my scalp and grimaces. “Shit, man, you’re gonna need a whole lotta stitches.”
“Still bleeding?”
“Like a motherfucker.”
“Fuck. I was hoping to get back home to my lady with some barbeque without her finding out.”
Dave laughs. “What’s this ‘my lady’ thing?”
“I don’t know. She’s not my wife. She’s not just my girlfriend. I feel like ‘my woman’ makes me sound like a caveman.”
“Why isn’t she your wife? You were just going on and on after your fitness test about how much you love her and her three kids and she’s perfect and you’re in it to win it and blah, blah, blah. Why not marry her if you’re done looking?”
I stare at him blankly for a long beat. And, suddenly, I know the honest answer to that question. “Because I’m scared to death she’ll turn me down.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Her husband was a cop who got shot and killed in the line of duty. She doesn’t want to be with another first responder, but I gave her no choice.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah. He got shot in the head.”
“Oh, Jesus. Then she’s really gonna freak out about this.” He motions to my head.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She’s totally gonna freak out. Dave, her husband got shot by some fucker who was trying to beat the crap out of his wife!”
“Oh no. Holy shit.”
“Now you see why I can’t tell her about this? I’ve got to figure out a way to get back to her place with barbeque and ice cream.”
Dave laughs.
“I’m not kidding. Help me.”
“Okay, explain this to me. When you arrive at her place with barbeque and ice cream, what are you gonna tell her about the fact that your head looks like road kill?”
I can’t figure out how to reply to that so I remain quiet.
Dave continues, “Or, wait. Here’s an idea: hide from this woman and her three kids you love so much for the next three to six weeks so they don’t discover your secret. Great idea.” He gestures to what’s surely a whole lot of ugly. “Trust me, man, it’s going to take at least a month for you to look pretty again.”
I sigh but say nothing.
“Put the mask back on, Morgan,” Dave says. “You’re not thinking clearly. That’s what happens when you bruise your brain.”
Resigned, I do as I’m told and push my oxygen mask over my mouth.
Dave leans over me to apply something to my face and I grimace sharply.
“Sorry. Hey, why don’t I call your father for you? Let him make the calls for you.”
I close my eyes and pull down the oxygen mask again. “No, I’ve got to call her myself.”
“Who? Your ‘lady’?” He snickers.
“No, my future wife.”
“Ah, so you’ve seen the light, have you? That was sudden.”
“I don’t want to keep referring to her as ‘my lady.’ It’s stupid.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking stupid. Good call.”
“I only hope she doesn’t find out about this and leave me.”
“Leave you?”
“Yeah. She might see me like this and say, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with another first responder!’ And off she’d go without looking back.”
Dave rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave you, Colby.”
“I’m not so sure. Fuck! Can you please turn off the sirens so I can call her? She’s probably worried sick.”
I’ve no sooner said the words than the sirens turn off.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I didn’t do it,” Dave replies. “We’re here.”
The ambulance comes to a stop. Dave pushes open the back doors and pulls me out on a gurney. And while Dave and another guy wheel me toward the emergency room, I take a deep breath, pull out my phone, and place the dreaded call.