Page 142 of Finding Denver
Heat hits me. I’m lifted off my feet, my back slamming into something hard, my head snapping back and hitting a solid surface. Stars burst behind my eyes and stones bite into my skin, pressure building in my face until my blood coats my tongue. A screeching fills my ears, and smoke invades my nose, and the darkness is overwhelming, but so comforting, so close, so?—
Car alarms gnaw at my brain. I blink, staring into a blue sky, dust and stones raining down on me. Smoke mars a sky that should be clear, and I try to move, to turn onto my side, but pain radiates through my shoulder so much that I cry out.
I cough and splutter against the dust and try to focus, shifting inch by inch until I’m facing Colt’s house.
Half of the building is gone.
No. No, no,no.
“Colt.” I try to shout it, but my throat won’t obey. With my only working arm, I pull myself through debris, trying to get to the hole torn through the back of the house.
The light fixtures swing free, the floor above us fully visible, the bed from the room upstairs dangling between the space. Sparks of electricity hiss and bite as wires twist, still shuddering from the explosion.
The island. He was behind the kitchen island.
Each drag is agony. I grit my teeth, the taste of blood making me want to gag, but I ignore it. I ignore all begs to rest and give in to the darkness. Warmth is dripping down the back of my head, but I can’t think about that. I have to hold onto consciousness. I have to find Colt.
I grunt as I see him. Lying beneath debris. His skin whitened from dust.
“Colt,” I cry out, my arm torn to ribbons from the glass and stones. I touch his face. “Colt, please wake up.” One side of his face is coated in blood, and tears burn my eyes as I whisper his name again and again. “Please don’t leave me. Please …” My lips tremble and my throat burns and my world crumbles. “Don’t leave me.”
The darkness curls around me. My vision blurs from tears and pain. So much pain. I rest my head on his chest,my body slumping beside his. Debris shifts against my back as I close my eyes. Just for a second. A minute.
And in the quiet fog of my mind, I hear sirens.
“They’re coming,” I say into his chest. “We can wait. They’re coming. Stay awake. They’re coming.” I relax into him, and the pain ebbs away. I open my eyes, slow twists of dust curling around us, the morning sun turning the disaster into diamonds in the air. I breathe slowly. Slower.
I’ll rest.
Just for a minute.
Chapter 40
Sebastian
Aquiet morning, but a long night. I run my hand down my face, my body aching, my mind not even close to tired, buzzing from endless bad coffee and thoughts that won’t let me rest. Did I read that chart right? Did I work fast enough on the gunshot victim? Did I turn the fucking oven off?
My temple aches. The same endless thoughts and worries, ones I thought might ease a little with a change in coastline.
Running. That’s what Zeke said I was doing. Running from memories, from loss, from visiting a grave I’m not brave enough to put flowers on. Zeke was partly right, but I wasn’t just running from that. I was running from her.
From the awful things I said. From the way I blamed her. From words I’m not strong enough to take back, no matter how wrong they were.
The doors to the ER bang open. “Female, late twenties, severe head trauma, and looks like a dislocated shoulder?—”
I spring to action, my thoughts replaced with familiar adrenaline. Numbers and facts are shouted at me, bloodpressure and more injuries, as the patient is moved onto the bed.
“Any ID?” I ask.
“Nothing,” the paramedic says. “She was in a house that was half standing. Looks like some kind of explosion. One more is coming in after her.”
The patient’s eyes flicker and focus on me. “Hey there, I’m Dr. Whitlock. Can you squeeze my fingers?” She blinks up at me, blood and dust on her face, and does so. “Perfect. I need you to wiggle your toes—” I pause, finally focusing on her face. On eyes I know.
But it can’t be.
My mind is playing tricks on me. She’s still squeezing my fingers, and a tear slips from her eye, parting the dust on her skin. Her lips part, cracked and revealing blood-stained teeth.
“D-don’t …” Her mouth opens and closes. “Ranger.”
