Page 128 of Burning for You
Not just the sheriff—he has come with his troopers, and a chopper.
I hug Carolyn. “You okay? Carolyn? Tell me you’re okay.”
She nods against my chest.
“We made it,” I say to Carolyn, who is still trembling from the cold and, I’m sure, the ordeal.
Knowing she’s okay, I immediately turn to my brother. “Jesse, let me see your wound.”
But his frame suddenly limps forward, and then he falls sideways.
“Jesse?” I shake his shoulders.
He smiles, but I don’t think my brother is conscious. His face is white, and his lips aren’t faring much better. Only when I remove his hand from his side and open his black denim shirt do I see the gaping wound. He’s tried to wrap it up with what looks to be part of Carolyn’s pants that I saw on the library floor.
How the hell did he do all that with this kind of injury?
Because he’s Jesse Holt, my brother.
Carolyn gives me her shirt, wet and bundled up. I press it against Jesse’s wound.
My brother whispers, “I swear it was an accident. I couldn’t hold onto her.”
Lucy…
“I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Jesse says.
“Of course you didn’t.” In time I will get us to talk about our little sister. Let our sorrows, regrets, grief, and brotherly love out in the open. I will convince him, too, that Mom didn’t hate him despite what he believed—and what I had cruelly told him.
But then he goes completely still. I can’t even hear him breathe.
“Jesse. Jesse!” I shout. “Fuck, man! You’re gonna be an uncle, you know! You can’t die!”
Carolyn holds me.
I start to sob when I can’t find his pulse.
Paramedics rush toward us and immediately tend to Jesse.
“Is he okay?” I say.
“Let us take care of your brother.” They push me aside.
Watching Jesse being wheeled into the chopper, I feel Carolyn contorting in my arms.
“Carolyn?”
“I’m fine.” She holds her belly. “I’m just… Levi…”
I catch her failing body. She keeps grimacing as I carry her to the chopper, yelling, “Please, she’s pregnant.”
Two of the paramedics who are attending to Jesse soon take over Carolyn.
“Ma’am, stay awake, please,” one of them says as we’re getting ready for take-off.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Carolyn sighs, squeezing my hand. Despite her grip searing my injured palm, I’m thankful for the pain—it’s her letting me know we’re both alive.