He couldn’t waste time with happy thoughts, though. His ribs and leg would have to wait. If he could still walk, he could still help. Ryder headed back into the pileup. As he administered first aid, stabilized patients, and helped the other teams extricate trapped folks, his mind strayed more and more to Lucas.
When he emerged limping and clutching his side after a particularly difficult extraction, Eva confronted him with anangry scowl. “You’re hurt.” When he didn’t deny it, she shook her head. “You idiot. You need to go to the hospital. Come on.” With no more patients to transport, she drove him there and made him promise to stay long enough to get x-rays before heading out.
Ryder slouched in the waiting room chair, his ribs throbbing and leg aching. Fatigue settled over him like a shroud, and it took a long time to actually feel warm again. It was past midnight, and he had to fight the urge to call Lucas just to hear his voice. They would talk the next day. The pileup had stretched the ER to its limit, so he sat there for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, until they finally called his name.
Chapter 13
Lucas
The cup of cocoa had cooled long ago, but Lucas wasn’t about to waste even a few gulps of the precious drink. He sipped the creamy chocolate before leaning back against the loveseat’s cushions. The final calendar design glowed on his laptop screen, and his lips twisted into a smile. People would buy it – they already had over a hundred preorders – and they’d raise enough money to save more animals and help out the first responders, too.
Outside the apartment window, snow still battered against the glass and swirled across the landscape, obscuring the parking lot and other buildings from view. Inside his tiny place, however, felt warm and peaceful. Quiet.
A harsh sound blared from the TV and a news report interrupted the crime show he hadn’t been paying attention to. Lucas bolted upright.State of emergency. Worsening conditions.And then something closer to home caught his attention.
Multiple vehicle collisions on Route 7. Ongoing emergency response in blizzard conditions. Road closed. Stay at home or plan alternate routes.
Lucas’s stomach dropped. Route 7 was a small highway he drove regularly to get to bigger shopping centers and places he liked going with his camera in nicer weather. He drove over it a few times every week on the way to the community college. In fact, the overpass was less than a quarter mile away.
The TV news reporter’s face switched to a shaky video from a traffic camera. It captured a long stretch of the icy highway piled with cars and trucks sliding into each other. Soon, emergency lights strobed through the curtain of snow as police cruisers arrived first, then an ambulance, and firetrucks brought up the rear. The wreckage stretched for what looked like miles. More than one vehicle was overturned. Another burned in the distance, smoke curling upward into the low gray sky. Several tiny figures of people milled about on the shoulder or clutched each other as they trudged through the snow toward the first responders.
Lucas’s heart began to pound.
He set the cocoa down, gently but with trembling fingers, and stood up. He pulled on his boots, donned a hoodie and his warmest coat, and yanked his beanie and gloves on. Then, he went for his camera bag, grabbing his longest telephoto lens and setting things up before pocketing his phone and keys and heading out the door.
He didn’t know for sure if Ryder was out there. The traffic camera wasn’t strong enough to identify anyone in the mess,even if the snow didn’t obscure things. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his man was out there. It settled in his chest like a stone.
His car didn’t want to start at first, but the engine turned over after a few tries, and Lucas let it warm up as he shoveled snow off the windows, hood, and roof. The parking lot was a mess, but the road beyond looked like the plows had gone down at least once in the last hour or two. He’d go slow, so very careful. As stupid as the decision to drive out in the middle of a blizzard emergency was, he had to see. Just to know.
The snow changed from white feathers to icy pellets as he crawled down the road toward the overpass. The flakes clung to his windshield and reduced visibility, but the road was straight, and he knew it well. Lucas drove carefully, gripping the wheel tighter than usual. It wasn’t until he parked on the wide shoulder before the overpass and shouldered his camera that he let himself breathe again. He stayed low and slow as he walked out over the span, boots crunching through the fresh snow. The red and blue flashing lights of emergency vehicles filled the scene.
He crept up the slight incline and crouched at the top of the bridge, hands already fumbling for the longer lens in his bag. His fingers were stiff from the cold, but he adjusted the settings automatically, years of practice taking over. He zoomed in, adjusted the aperture, and focused through the curtain of swirling white.
The scene below was chaos. Emergency responders moved between mangled cars. Firefighters cut through doors with sparks flying. Medics moved carefully, methodically, weaving stretchers around the wreckage. Even seeing it from above at a safe distance, it brought nightmares to mind. It was disorganized and brutal, but the rescuers in bright gear moved through the mess and brought order and comfort to the people affected.
Lucas zoomed in more and slowly swept the scene, snapping shots as he went. A compact car near the front still smoldered. A tractor trailer jack-knifed across all the lanes with a few cars shoved up against the side. A mini-van lay on its side next to a pickup truck with a smashed bed.
He shifted his attention to the people. A family stood near the guardrail together as they stared at the wreckage. Two firefighters yanked on a car door a bit farther on. Another walked away from a cut-open car as two medics with a stretcher helped a woman out. He eased his camera lens to the other side of the car and saw Ryder.
There was no mistaking the thick blond beard and bulky frame even at that distance and through the swirling snow. Even bundled in his heavy gear, Lucas would have known him anywhere. He leaned toward the car again for a moment and then straightened up. A small figure, a baby in a red coat, emerged, wrapped tight in Ryder’s arms. One of his hands covered the child’s head. The other supported her back. Lucas’s breath caught in his throat.
He didn’t even feel himself press the shutter. The camera clicked softly beneath his gloves, once, twice, then again in a burst as Ryder emerged from the twisted wreckage like something out of a story, cradling the child like his own. Lucas tracked his slow walk toward the waiting ambulance, breath fogging in the freezing air, unable to look away.
As Ryder passed the EMT crew and gently handed the child into waiting arms, Lucas kept the telephoto lens trained on his distant form. He kept watching as Ryder disappeared back into the pile-up. Lucas took more photos, documenting everything automatically.
On one last sweep toward the emergency vehicles, he spotted Ryder again. The man, half covered with snow, stood for a moment, swaying slightly before one of the paramedicsstepped up and spoke to him. It was too far away to hear, of course, but the gestures made it clear. A moment later, Ryder climbed into the back of the ambulance.
Lucas didn’t move. He stood frozen on the overpass, watching as the doors shut behind him and the vehicle pulled away, lights flashing, but not rushing in a way that made it seem like an emergency.
His hands trembled. His knees nearly gave out, whether from the cold or the flood of nerves, he couldn’t tell. Maybe both. Lucas clutched the strap of his camera bag and drew in a long, shaky breath. Cold seeped in, and he knew he should head home as slowly and carefully as he came. That was the smart thing to do, but he was tired of being careful when it came to his heart. There was no way he could stop himself from heading to the hospital and making sure Ryder was really okay.
Lucas backed down the hill and made his way back to his car, still on autopilot. His heart thumped hard in his chest. He checked the shots once while the car warmed up enough to defrost the windshield and stared at the moment frozen in a frame. Ryder’s face was focused and raw, the snow falling all around, the baby’s red jacket stark against the monochrome chaos.
The photo reached out and tugged at his heart, but it was nothing next to the thought of seeing Ryder in person. He put the car in gear, turned around carefully, and drove at a crawl through town.
The hospital was busy, as expected. Lucas parked in the furthest corner of the icy lot and slipped inside under the fluorescent glare. He scanned the busy waiting room, past people who looked half frozen and worn out. Maybe Ryder was still waiting for help behind the gray door to the ER ward. Lucas couldn’t go back there. He wasn’t family. Taking a deep breath, he headed toward the front desk.
Before he reached the harried-looking nurse, Lucas spotted Ryder, half-slumped against the pale-yellow wall beneath a harsh fluorescent light. He had one hand braced against the wall, the other holding crumpled discharge papers. His phone was in his palm, thumb hovering over the screen, but his eyes weren’t on it. He looked like he hadn’t quite figured out what to do next. His coat was zipped but hung unevenly, and his beard was still damp from melted snow. He looked pale, worn down, and stubbornly upright.
