He’s stable. It’s all good.”
He was drifting in and out, picking up only pieces of conversation.
I couldn’t let him die.
Two gunmen?
He wasn’t with them; they were after him.
That was foolish.
I don’t care. He needed me.
You don’t even know him.
He squeezed her hand, struggling to stay connected, to stay conscious.
“It’s okay,” a woman whispered against his ear.
It was Bree’s voice. He’d know it anywhere.
He couldn’t remember his own name, where he’d been or how he’d ended up in an ambulance. Those three things should drive him to the brink of despair.
But they didn’t because Bree was here. He took a deep breath, clung to her hand and drifted.
* * *
“You’ve upset him,” Bree snapped at her cousin Maddie.
“Right, so it’s not the bullet wound or head injury that’s got him freaked out,” Maddie said, sarcastically. “Look, I shouldn’t have let you ride along in the first place, so stop busting my chops.”
“I’m worried about him.” She noted Mr. Blue Eyes’ skin looked pale.
“He’s not your problem.”
Bree ignored the comment and stroked the back of his hand.
“Bree?”
She glanced at her cousin, who frowned with concern.
“You didn’t see him, Maddie. He was so—” Bree glanced at the bruise forming around his head wound “—broken.”
Maddie reached over and touched Bree’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
With a nod, Bree glanced back at the stranger. They both knew Maddie’s words referred more to Bree’s terrible Thomas past than the current situation.
“He’s okay,” Maddie said, pausing as she unbuttoned his shirt. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“He’s got a lot of redness on his chest and stomach, like he was beaten up.”
They pulled up to the hospital.
“This is as far as you go, sorry,” Maddie said.
The back door opened. Two sheriff’s deputies stood there, along with Echo Mountain Police Chief Lew Washburn, and Wallace Falls Police Chief Charles Trainer, who Bree’s family fondly called Uncle Chuck.
Two officers and two police chiefs? Blue Eyes must be in big-time trouble.
“Bree,” he groaned, opening his eyes.
Maddie shot Bree a disapproving look.
“I’m here,” Bree said, squeezing his hand.
The other paramedic came around and helped Maddie lift the stretcher out of the ambulance. Blue Eyes didn’t release Bree’s hand.
Uncle Chuck approached. “Breanna, we need to—”
“I’ll be right back,” she interrupted.
She walked alongside the stretcher, offering words of comfort to Blue Eyes. “You’ll be okay. They’ll take care of you here.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I’ll stay close, promise.”
“You’ve got to let him go, Bree,” Maddie said as they wheeled him into the E.R.
Bree released his hand.
“No, Bree,” he gasped, and the look in his eyes nearly tore her apart inside. Pure and utter devastation coupled with fear. She’d seen that look...in the mirror.
She motioned for her cousin to stop the stretcher and Bree leaned close to the stranger. “I’ll be right outside. Let them fix you up so you can get out of here and do something fun.”
“With you?”
Bree shot a quick glance at Maddie and looked back at the stranger. “Sure.”
“You won’t leave me?”
“I won’t leave you.”
He released her hand and they wheeled him into the examining area. Bree automatically reached for her locket, praying for guidance. Had she done the right thing by making that promise? Of course she had, because it had calmed him down enough to release her and get much needed medical attention.
“Breanna?”
She turned to Uncle Chuck and Chief Washburn.
“Hey, hi, Uncle Chuck.” She gave him a hug. Chuck had been a friend for years and helped out after Dad had passed away.
They broke the hug and she nodded at Lew Washburn. “Hey, Chief.”
“Let’s sit down and you can give me your official statement.” Chief Washburn motioned her to the waiting area.
Breanna hesitated, not wanting to break her word to Blue Eyes.
“We’ll be close to the examining room,” Chief Washburn said.
With a nod, Breanna accompanied them to the waiting area, positioning herself so she could keep an eye on the door.
“Do you know the victim?” Uncle Chuck asked her.
“No.” Although she felt oddly connected to him in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Tell us what happened,” Chief Washburn said.
As Bree retold the story, she clicked into that distancing mode, the place where it felt as if she was talking about someone else.
“You jumped out of the tree to help him, knowing he was being pursued by two gunmen?” Uncle Chuck said.
She didn’t miss the disbelief in his voice, nor the disapproval.
“They would have killed him,” she said.
“They might have killed you,” he scolded.
His tone sparked shame through her body, but she pushed it aside. She would not feel ashamed for saving a man’s life.
“They were far enough away that I didn’t feel I was in immediate danger,” she said. “I thought I had enough time to help the man hide until authorities arrived.”
