Page 55 of Avalanche
Matty’s brow dips, his lips parting as if he means to disagree, but then he looks down at Seth, at the man bloodied and unconscious in his arms, and he knows I’m right.
I know what he’s concerned about. I’d be a liar if I said I’m not thinking about it too. There isn’t a Kiwi working here who hasn’t heard the horror-stories about what can happen if you get caught out without medical insurance in this country. Half a million in medical debt from a broken leg, an ambulance ride that costs more than a trip in a private jet.
Which is why I forked out for the best travel insurance I could get before I left home.
But I have no idea if Seth did the same.
Seth exhales, a ragged, wet sound that leaves pink tinging his lips. Matty’s eyes widen in alarm.
I push the call button.
Chapter 17
Lily
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Matty asks as he climbs into the front passenger seat of my car. “I can drive if you want.”
I shoot him a tight smile and shake my head. “I’ve got it.” My hands are trembling where I grip the wheel, but Matty’s are shaking too, so much that he can hardly clip his seatbelt. “Where’s Liam?”
The ambulance left just moments before we arrived—I saw it blaring past on the road, sirens screaming, lights flashing. Heading to Salt Lake City hospital.
“In the ambulance.” Matty rubs his palms over the snow-damp fabric of his jeans, then looks behind to where Eddie and Antoine are sitting in tense silence in the back seat. “He said he was Seth’s brother.”
Eddie snorts out a mirthless laugh. “Of course he fucking did.”
“Good,” Antoine says, his voice thick with emotion. “At least Seth’s got someone with him.”
I nod in agreement but find myself unable to speak. It’s too much to think about, too overwhelming, the idea of Seth in the back of an ambulance. Of how Liam and Matty found him, bloody and unconscious at the side of the road.
A hit and run, they had said. Liam’s voice had been so steady at the other end of the line. Calming, almost. Someone who knew him less would have doubted he was affected at all.
But I knew. I could tell.
The guys are silent as we turn onto the freeway, the canyon snaking down below us towards a valley thick with fog. They’re silent as we weave our way down, slowly making our way out of the sharp mountain air through the haze, into the inversion layer that sits over the city like a blanket.
“You’ll want to take the next exit,” Eddie announces from the back seat. He’s leaning forward, his face fixed on the screen of his phone, his brow dipped in concentration. “That’s the quickest way.”
I do as he says, my pulse picking up as the concrete pillars of the freeway flick past in my periphery, spitting me out into the carefully ordered streets of Salt Lake City.
Rows of box shaped buildings stretch along in a grid, grey as the sky above them as I make my way down streets marked with numbers instead of names.
“That way.” Eddie reaches through the middle of the car to point out the hospital sign hanging above an intersection. “It’s that way.”
I change lanes, grimacing at the annoyed honking of the driver behind me as I cross two lanes at once to make my turn.
“There it is,” Eddie announces, but I don’t need him to tell me where to go. There’s no missing the giant hospital complex, the stacked parking lot, the cluttered sprawl of modern architecture. I draw in a steadying breath and will my heart rate to calm as I look for a park.
The hospital is all bright lights and clean lines, bustling with tired faces in scrubs and a jarringly strange mixture of humanity. Old and young, joy-filled and grey-faced sorrow, threadbare clothes and worn winter coats mixed with crisp bright colours and manicured hair.
It’s a different world here.
Real in a way that the mountain could never be. There’s something about it that feels like a splinter caught under skin, or maybe like stepping out of a movie and into broad daylight. Or waking from a dream.
Antoine slips his hand into mine. I feel the steadiness of that touch like a lifeline thrown out in a storm.
Eddie strides out ahead of us, Matty close behind him, heading to reception as if he’s done this a hundred times before.
“Hi,” he says, leaning against the counter. I can hear the smile in his voice, the warmth. The woman at the desk narrows her eyes at him momentarily, as if annoyed by the interruption, then softens into an answering smile.
