“You guys.” Amber rolled her eyes. “Jackson, if you want something sweeter, you can always try a cold brew.”
He scowled at them. “What is this? A coffee intervention? I am not, nor will I ever be, a fan of coffee. I’m fine with this.” He lifted the can in a mocking salute, then he moved out to the ambulance bay. Might as well inventory their ambulance.
Swanny followed him. “Jackson, wait. Seriously, man. You haven’t been yourself the past few days. What’s up?”
Jackson looked at Swanny, his best friend in the world. “You know how Dylan went on a camping trip?”
“Yeah?”
Jackson clenched his teeth and forced the words out. “He’s still gone. I don’t know where he is.”
Swanny’s mouth dropped open. “Bro! This is serious.”
“I know. I haven’t seen him since the hearing, and I’m starting to think the camping trip might have been a lie. Only, I don’t know where the lying started. Did they go camping and something happened to them? Or did they not go camping at all?”
He avoided looking at Swanny to hide the sudden tears in his eyes.
“Dude, don’t lose hope,” Swanny rumbled. “Forget the statistics. If he was still texting…”
“I know, but I’m realizing I don’t know Dylan like I thought I did. I never thought he’d pull something like this.”
“Teens are hard,” Swanny said. “You remember what it was like. Too many hormones, too young to really be independent but feeling too old to have someone telling you what to do. Give yourself some slack.”
“You’re not wrong.” Jackson ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “The only regret I have about leaving for the Army right after high school is that I couldn’t get custody when my grandfather died. When I came back, he was already in foster care. They granted me visitation, but I had a lot of boxes I had to check off before I could apply for custody. I had to have a steady job that would allow me to provide for him. I had to have a house with enough room for him. Not even an apartment. The judge specifically said I had to have a house. And I had to keep these for a certain length of time.” He held up his fingers one at a time as if ticking items off.
The alarm went off.
“We’re up!” Swanny shouted, racing toward the garage entrance. Jackson pounded after him.
“Sixteen-year-old male, altered state of consciousness. Possible overdose.”
When he heard the word overdose, Jackson’s stomach plummeted. Not again. Sixteen was so young.
At the ambulance, Jackson pulled himself into the driver’s seat.
Please don’t let it be Dylan.
The moment the engine growled to life, Jackson flipped on the lights and the siren and maneuvered the vehicle through the traffic. When he hit the main road, the traffic navigated to the side of the road, letting him sail past in the left lane.
As the motor vibrated beneath him, Jackson silently prayed for the teenager. This was someone’s child—more, he was a child of God.
When they arrived at the house, he and Swanny took a moment to don their gloves before grabbing their gear and the stretcher, then approaching the front door. Jackson’s gaze swept the area, searching for any danger or signs that the scene wasn’t safe.
They were in an upscale area of Renegade. Most of the houses could have been on a magazine cover. This lawn displayed extravagant landscaping complete with a fountain, crystalline water flowing down decorative rocks into a small pool with goldfish swimming in it.
A frantic woman met them at the door. “It’s my nephew.”
“Ma’am, take us to him, please.” Swanny’s deep voice cut through her hysterics. She led them back to a bedroom. The house was immaculate and tastefully decorated. Every room they passed spoke of care and attention to detail.
It was also clearly a home. Family photos hung on the walls, and handcrafted quilts and pillows were piled on the sofa and armchairs.
They entered the room and saw the teen lying on the bed. He could have been sleeping, except his eyes were open. He was still, way too still.
Fortunately, his chest continued to rise and fall with shallow breaths. Jackson checked his pulse. “It’s there, but erratic.”
Swanny flashed a light into his eyes. “No response.”
“Ma’am, what’s your nephew’s name?”
