Page 124 of Emergency Date

She shook her head. “No.”

“No?”

“If I could go back, I’d do it again. I’ll always choose you. I’ll choose you in every lifetime.”

We kept each other’s gaze for a moment, and then I pressed my lips against hers. After a few seconds, she melted into me like she used to. I cupped her face, my thumb brushing along her cheek as the kiss deepened, her mouth parting slightly to invite me closer. The taste of her was intoxicating, even if it was mixed with a few grains of sand.

I tilted my head, pulling her closer, my tongue sweeping against hers. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a conversation, an unspoken promise wrapped in the way our mouths moved together.

The world faded for a moment—no chaos, no sirens, no hum of the wheels beneath the ambulance—just her.

When we parted, her eyes remained closed, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “There you are,” she whispered. Her eyes peeled open. “You’re back.”

“We’re back,” I said. “And no one can question your loyaltyeveragain after the very clear choice you just made.”

“It wasn’t a choice. Once I realized I couldn’t save you both, I didn’t even think about it.”

“That’s my point. I’m just glad Thomas didn’t have to die for the world to figure that out.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine. “It’s not funny. He could’ve died, Trent. Liis would’ve never forgiven me.”

“Yes, she would’ve. You know why? Because if it were her hands we were holding on to… I would’ve been the one cut loose. You did what you had to do, and it saved both of us. You think Thomas is lying on that stretcher thinking you betrayed him? Hell no. He’s probably pissed he’s not the one here telling you this himself.”

She thought about my words, and that seemed to calm her conscience.

The ambulance jerked to a stop, the back doors swinging open to reveal the harsh glare of floodlights cutting through the dark night. Camille and I climbed out, the air cooler than I’d expected, the faint smell of asphalt and antiseptic hanging in the breeze. The medics reached out to steady us, but I shrugged them off, my boots hitting the ground hard. My focus was on the glowing windows of the hospital ahead, not the crowd of nurses and techs waiting to whisk us inside. I had one goal: to get to my brother. But a nurse blocked my path like a human barricade, tablet in hand.

“You need to be treated first,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“They checked us out in the ambulance. My brother’s inside. I need to see him.”

She eyed the dirt, blood, and bruises covering me like a checklist of injuries. “We can’t let you wander the halls like this. You’ll be treated, or you’ll sign an AMA and then be escorted out and trespassed.”

Camille stepped in, her voice calm and steady. “It’s fine, babe. Let’s just get it over with.”

I sighed. “Fine, but we stay together.”

The nurse looked to Camille who gave her a reassuring nod. “Follow me.”

Camille grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze, her way of thanking me for doing it the easy way for once. I realized then that today hadn’t been her first time; she’d been pulling me back from ledges since we met.

Inside, the fluorescent lights were almost blinding compared to the darkness outside, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on my arms. We were led to a small treatment room, the faint smell of disinfectants and latex gloves hanging in the air.

Camille perched on the edge of one chair while I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. A nurse came in, tablet in hand, and looked at me expectantly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good,” I said flatly.

“No, you’re not,” Camille said, amused. She pointed to the empty chair. “Sit down.”

I walked over and dropped into the chair with a grunt, muttering under my breath, “They checked us already. We’re wasting time.”

The nurse worked methodically, cleaning cuts on my arms and face, pressing at my shoulder until I winced. “Strained muscle,” she said matter-of-factly. “Take it easy for a few days.”

Camille sat quietly as another nurse tended to her, though her fingers twisted in her lap. She winced as her scrapes were cleaned, but she said nothing. I waited as they took her back for X-Rays on her shoulders and smiled when she returned.

After our labs came back, the nurses gave us the all-clear. I was out the door before they could finish their instructions, pulling Camille close behind me. Now nearing nine o’clock, the hallways were quiet and nearly empty. When we reached Thomas’s room, the door was cracked, soft beeps from the monitors spilling into the hall.

I stepped inside, and there he was, propped up in the hospital bed, pale but grinning like an idiot. “You look like shit,” he quipped.

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