Page 78 of Tracked
“It was late—early, actually. 2:43 in the morning.” When I blinked, I could still see the clock on the wall just as I’d seen it that night—and just like I’d had to include in what felt like endless recounts of my report. “A patient was brought in by ambulance. A young kid.”
Not really. Ian wasn’t that much younger than me, but he looked like he was. Like he’d only just dipped his toes into the vast pool of his life.
“The police were with him. I was told they’d pulled him off a sidewalk downtown because he was tripping. His pupils were dilated. He smelled like Brandon’s trailer. He wasn’t coherent. Mumbling. Stumbling. Hallucinating.” Closing my eyes, I could see him now. Every detail. His clear blue eyes. The goldfinch tattoo on the side of his neck. “I went to take his vitals and told the nurse working with me to grab theNarcanin case we had to administer. I followed protocol. I took his pulse. It was erratic but there, and he seemed to be drifting into a stupor.”
I stopped blinking, recalling the whip and whirl of his heartbeat like a wild stallion that wouldn’t settle.
“I told my nurse to start him on IV fluids, and at the first prick of the needle, he went wild. He grabbed the needle—grabbed her arm.” I started to shake. Big racking shakes, with panic and fear detonating like I was still in that moment; the only difference was, in that moment, I’d kept the earthquake inside.
Calder’s hand tightened on my shoulder, anchoring me back to him and the comfort of his steady gaze.
“The nurse, my friend Hailey, she started screaming. I yelled for help, but I couldn’t wait, he was going to hurt her ... I lunged across the hospital bed, forcing him back with my own weight. She got free and then he let out this ... unearthly roar and then came for me.”
My eyes shuttered, unable to hold up the wet weight of my tears as they fell. At that moment, I wouldn’t have known it had started to rain, except that when I looked at Calder, I saw droplets staining him, too.
“He didn’t look that strong, but the meth in his system ...” I gritted my teeth. After how many times I’d had to go over this chain of events, it should’ve been easier to recount. “His elbow landed in my stomach, and then he grabbed my face and shoved me so hard I fell back, smacked my head against the wall.” I winced, recalling how it had felt as though my skull had split in two. “I opened my eyes and looked at him ... that last moment, I stared into his eyes ... and then he went into cardiac arrest.” I swallowed. “I tried ... but it didn’t matter. He was gone.”
“That’s what wakes you up at night,” he murmured, his hand sliding from my shoulder to the side of my neck as though he saw I needed help holding up the weight of my guilt. “Ian.”
My breath caught when he said his name, and I felt myself nod, wishing that the nightmare ended there. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
“It turned out, he wasn’t homeless. He was twenty-three and from a wealthy family local to Phoenix. He ran away because his parents wanted to send him to a rehab program and was staying with friends. They were at a bar and he snuck off, got too high, and then got kicked out. Anyway, his parents ... they said I killed him.” My throat was so tight, I could barely speak. “That because I’d restrained him and he’d tried to get free, it was too much strain on his heart.”
“While he was high on meth? And what do they think the police or security would’ve done?” His voice was calm, yet his eyes were anything but.
“I know I did the right thing.” A protest of bitter laughter bubbled out. “Funny how that doesn’t seem to make a difference.”
All the reports. The autopsy. The video footage. The witness accounts. Everything but a parent’s grief had cleared me of wrongdoing.
“I couldn’t save him,” I said, not needing to speak loudly, because his face was right in front of mine.
Cool air dumped into my chest as Calder framed my face with both hands, my gaze hostage to his.
“I’m sorry.”
I watched a fat droplet of rain land on the bridge of his nose and run down all the way to the tip. I was grateful for the rain. It made me feel like I wasn’t crying alone.
And I was grateful for Calder because he didn’t try to explain away my guilt or grief. He didn’t try to soothe it with kind words or placating promises that this would get better.
Instead, his hand slid around the nape of my neck and pulled me to him, the other wrapping around my back like the root of a tree trunk, anchoring me to the warm bedrock of his embrace as sobs finally claimed me.
He held me in the rain. In the storm. And let it soak him, too.
“I couldn’t save him,” I repeated over and over into his chest, his steady heartbeat echoing back.Thump, thump. I know. Thump, thump.
It’s okay.
I hadn’t cried. Not like this. I’d been too afraid of what it would do—afraid it would drown me. But the way he held me, I knew he wouldn’t drag me under, so I finally let the tears fall.
Time passed only by the deep breaths that filled my lungs with his rich, masculine scent. It dissolved in the rain, electrified by the storm, and dug its greedy fingers into my veins, holding on until the scales tipped from exhaling grief to inhaling him.
The entire time, I buried my face against the warmth of his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. His hand drew slow circles in my hair at my nape, and his chin rested on top of my head.
By the time my cries subsided, the rain camouflaged the damage done to his shirt by my tears.
Hesitantly, I turned my head and angled it back. I couldn’t cry anymore, but neither did I want to leave his embrace.
I couldn’t have saved Ian. I couldn’t have done enough to change his fate. But in this moment, there was something I could do to change mine.
