Page 64 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
For the next twenty minutes, I found myself divided between managing the scene and watching Tommy work. He knelt at Hazel’s side, blood on his hands and muddy gravel on his clothes, issuing clipped instructions to the other EMTs while holding pressure on his sister’s wound himself. When any of the first responders hesitated, Tommy didn’t shout—he explained, voice steady, gaze unflinching, until they moved like a unit.
And through it all, he never let go of his sister’s hand.
I’d seen competence before. I’d worked with plenty of skilled professionals in my years as sheriff. But this was something different. This was watching someone operate at the absolute peak of their abilities, doing exactly what they were meant to do.
The realization hit me like a physical blow: Tommy wasn’t just good at this. He was extraordinary. This was who he was supposed to be—not stuck next to a sedated patient in an operating room, but here, in the moment of greatest challenge, making impossible decisions and saving lives when everything was falling apart.
“Careful with that leg,” he called out as they maneuvered the stretcher. “The fracture’s unstable. If it shifts…”
I saw him go still for just a moment as Hazel cried out during the transfer, and that crack in his professional armor widened just enough for me to see the terrified brother underneath again. Without thinking, I moved closer and put my hand on his shoulder.
“She’s okay,” I said quietly. “You’ve got this.She’s got this.”
“Right. Yeah.” He took a deep breath, and I felt some of the tension leave his body under my palm. For just a second, he leaned into the contact, and the weight of him settled into my bones like gravity.
I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more than a life where Tommy Marian chose me to lean on.
The moment passed, and he was back in control, climbing into the ambulance and barking instructions to the driver about which route to take and how fast was safe, given Hazel’s condition.
Avery had already insisted Tommy ride with Hazel instead of her, and I’d offered to bring her to the hospital myself. Not only did I want to help him—helpthem—but I also wasn’t ready to leave him, to go back to Cabin 8 alone while he was worried about his sister.
“You sure?” Tommy asked before the rear doors closed, glancing over at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper.
“We’ll be right behind you,” I promised. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
Tommy looked back at me, his face exhausted but grateful. “I don’t have your number.”
“I’ll fix that at the hospital,” I said, and something passed between us… a promise, an acknowledgment of something neither of us was ready to name.
The ambulance pulled away, taking him with it, and I turned to help his very pregnant sister-in-law back to my truck.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, opening the passenger door. “She’s in good hands. The best.”
As we made our way through the traffic behind the ambulance, I couldn’t stop replaying what I’d just witnessed. The way Tommy had moved with absolute confidence, the way everyone had deferred to his expertise without question. The gentle authority in his voice when he’d spoken to Hazel, the fierce protectiveness when he’d fought for the best care for her.
He wasn’t made for stillness, or small-town routines, or the quiet, predictable life I’d carved out for myself in Majestic. He was built forthis—for running headfirst into other people’s emergencies, for making impossible decisions under pressure, for saving lives when no one else could.
The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of dark mountain roads and the steadytaptaptapof Avery texting. But all I could think about was Tommy’s hands, steady and sure as he’d worked to save his sister. The way he’d looked at me in that final moment before the ambulance doors closed. And the terrifying realization that what I felt for him wasn’t going away in a few weeks. If anything, after tonight, it was only going to get stronger.
Avery dropped her phone on top of her rounded belly andblew out a breath. “I didn’t even ask, how do you know Tommy? You two work together at SERA?”
I glanced over at her, the memory of Hazel’s reaction still fresh in my memory from that first night at Timber.
“I’m the guy in the Made Marian T-shirt. The one from Hawaii.”
And for the first time since that night six long months ago, claiming it made me a little bit proud.
16
TOMMY
The fluorescent lightsin the hospital waiting room buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting everything in a sickly pale glow that made the beige walls look gray. I sat in the same hard plastic chair I’d claimed six hours ago, staring at my hands.
They’d finally stopped shaking.
The blood under my fingernails had dried to a rusty brown, and somewhere in the back of my mind, the doctor part of me noted that I should wash them properly.
But I was a brother, too, and to that part of me, moving seemed impossible. Every time I tried to stand, my legs felt like they were made of water.
