Page 178 of Wallflower

My pride momentarily swells. There’s the man I call when something’s too much for Kyle and I to handle ourselves.

Bucky shoves her in our direction. Chelsea slips as she tries to catch herself, landing hard on the unforgiving floor. Her clothes are covered in gore, hands slick with blood, face sprayed with a healthy layer. “What the fuck?” she shrieks. “What’s the point in me saving him if you’re just going to fucking shoot him?”

“He shot your sister, his death was inevitable,” I answer.

“He sh—” Chelsea’s voice trails off, ocean eyes snapping to Rose wincing in pain. Her small hand is clasped in mine, as the other one tries to keep the blood in her body.

“Can you help her?”

“I-I-I…” Chelsea stutters, moving slowly to Rose’s injured side.

“Doctor’s on her way,” Bucky says over my shoulder.

I nod. “Hear that, flower? Help is coming, hold on.” She forces a smile, eyes falling shut as she tries to breathe through the agony.

Chelsea’s frozen like a deer in headlights, watching the rapid rise and fall of Rose’s chest, the shock finally taking hold.

Bucky leans down, hand loudly cracking off Chelsea’s cheek, knocking her to the floor. “Get your fucking head in the game,” he snarls. “Freeze up like this in the ER, and all your patients will die.”

Fuck, I could kiss him. Briefly, we lock eyes. “Thank you,” I mouth the words, and he nods.

“You fucking prick!” she growls. “I’m thinking!”

“Think fucking faster!”

Chelsea’s silent for a moment longer before snapping to attention, voice direct. “Plastic. I need plastic wrap.”

Bucky’s moving before I have to tell him where it is, sliding the drawer open and looking for the right box between the parchment paper and aluminum foil.

“Why?” I ask Chelsea as a way to distract Rose. Maybe by hearing what’s happening, she won’t be so scared…and neither will I.

“It sounds like she’s got a collapsed lung.” Bucky passes her the roll of cling wrap, having found and pulled the end out so Chelsea wouldn’t have to search for it. “Thank you,” she quietly says to him. Looking back to me, she answers my question, “I need to cover the wound to prevent more air from entering. It’s increasing the pressure in her chest.”

“What do I do?”

“You two need to support her while I wrap this around her.”

“I—” Rose barks another nasty cough, blood colouring her teeth. “I can do it,” she wheezes, face scrunched in pain. Her hand slips from mine, planting on the floor as she tries to sit up again.

Her eyes roll back. Though she fights to keep focus, she slips into unconsciousness again. “Rose?” I shout.

Chelsea presses her fingers to Rose’s limp wrist. “She just passed out, let’s move quickly. Ginger, you support her from the back.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow dangerously as he scowls at Chelsea. She pays him no mind, the thoracic-surgeon-in-training taking over fully.

Bucky supports Rose’s shoulders as I steady her at the waist, watching as Chelsea works with determination. The plastic slips and slides against Rose’s wet skin, making this process painfully slow.

Rose’s leaking blood works against her sister with every pump of her heart, but Chelsea doesn’t give up. Her eyes dartaround the room, perseverance carved into the sharp contours of her face.

Reaching back, she rips a towel from the counter. Gently, she pats Rose’s skin dry the best she can. Chelsea blows her breath slowly across Rose’s flesh, and the blood becomes tacky, briefly making the plastic stick to my flower’s paling skin.

Chelsea smiles in triumph when the seal stays, wrapping the plastic around Rose’s torso again and again.

“Pillows,” she snaps, looking to Bucky, and pointing to the couch across the open concept room.

He returns with every cushion from the couch, and the accent pillows.

Quickly, Chelsea arranges them in a makeshift bed against the island. “Okay, you two, move her carefully, keep her upright.”