Page 3 of The Two Last Moments

But while I share my father’s full name, we’ve rarely seen eye to eye.

Dad always wanted me to be a doctor. That was never my plan. I worked my ass off to become a line medic, then once I left the military, that experience transferred naturally to EMT training. For the past several years, my schedule as a firefighter has been demanding but predictable. Twenty-four hours on shift, then forty-eight off. It can be hectic, but I like the rhythm of it. Spending time with my teammates. Getting that adrenaline rush when a callout comes.

The best part, what truly fulfills me, is healing people during their worst moments. I’m a temporary presence in their lives, but I do everything I can to make a difference.

When I’m off duty, I go out with my friends, usually finding a hookup for the night. There are plenty of sweet girls in West Oaks and the surrounding towns, and a never-ending supply of tourists passing through. I like all shapes and sizes. If they could leave a review the morning after, I’m confident I’d have a rating well above four stars. I happen to take pride in a job well done.

But when it comes to women, I don’t do the long-term thing. I’d rather stay nimble. People change their minds too easily. Leave when you least expect.

If you trust someone with your whole heart, you’re just giving them all they need to break you. Nina’s the only person who has that much of me. And now, with her in hospice…

But I’m taking this run to get my mindoffthe heavy shit. Doesn’t seem like it’s working.

When I’m almost back to Nina’s house, I hear an engine rev. The sound is aggressive.Angry. Out of place on a quiet night. The hairs on my arms raise like a lightning storm is brewing in the air.

I turn the final corner, and that’s when I see her. There’s a woman standing frozen in the middle of the street. A backpack dangles from her hand.

And a car is bearing down on her, her silhouette glowing in the headlights.

Holy shit. It’s going to hit her.

“Hey!Look out!”

I sprint toward her, but it’s too late. There’s a sickening thud. She goes flying, her body landing on the sidewalk.

I reach her and skid to a stop. My knees hit the ground beside her. Behind me, the car’s brakes squeal. I figure the guy’s getting out to help. He must not have seen her.

“Call 911!” I shout. I’m an EMT, but I don’t have my equipment with me. She needs a hospital.

But when I look over my shoulder, the car is moving again. The engine whines as it reverses at high speed. Then the guy puts it back into gear.

The car accelerates, steering directly at us.

What the hell?

Understanding spreads through me, along with a hefty dose of rage. Hitting the woman was no accident. This fucker is trying to kill her. And maybe me while he’s at it.

I don’t have a choice. I have to move her,now.

I scoop the woman into my arms, trying to keep her stabilized. She could have head or spinal injuries, and I’m jostling her, but if this madman hits her again, she’ll be far worse off. I have to take the risk.

I take off just as the car jumps the curb.

Tires grind into the damp lawn behind us. The sound of metal on metal blasts through the air, and I glance back. The car just took out the neighbor’s mailbox, and it’s still coming.

I need cover.

There’s a huge walnut tree in front of the nearest house, so I dart behind it, trying to put something solid in between us and that death machine. He veers toward us again, but then seems to think better of it. He steers the car in a wide arc, tires spinning in the grass.

The car rocks as he bumps over the curb again, retreating. And after a brief pause, he speeds away down the street.

My lungs start to work again. Just barely.

I lay the woman on the ground. She’s young, maybe early to mid-twenties. Blood streaks from cuts on her forehead and cheek. Dark hair splays around her head. Her eyelids flutter, her panicked gaze fixing on my face.

“Hey, talk to me,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“Please…please…” Her attempt to speak ends in a groan.

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