Page 96 of Brutal Truths

“Tell me you have a defibrillator on this bird.” I was hoping not to have to use it, but now it might be the best option to keep him stable until we can land.

Aiden reaches under the seat. “Standard equipment. We never leave home without it. Kind of like my Leatherman.”

Good. Because we are about to need it.

While he pulls it out, I unbutton Trent’s shirt, doing my best to keep him calm. “Your heart is misfiring. Probably the stress of this flight. I’m not letting you die, so don’t look so scared.”

Trent frowns. “I’m not scared.”

Once I have his shirt opened, it’s my turn to frown. On his chest is a tattoo similar to the one I have. A compass, only it’s not broken and shattered.

My mother had one as well. It’s the one thing I remember clearly. The reason I got mine.

He struggles to get the words out. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Keeping my composure is getting harder. “She had one. I remember.”

“I know.” He reaches for me, his grip weak as he squeezes my arm. “Keep me alive, and I’ll tell you the story behind it.”

I nod, but the words won’t come out, they’re stuck in my throat.

His eyes flutter. Then roll back. His grasp on my hand loosens as his arm goes slack.

“Fuck. How much longer?”

“Ten.”

I check his carotid pulse. Nothing. “No pulse.”

I move immediately, starting compressions. Lacing my fingers, I drive the heel of my palm hard into his chest, keeping a steady rhythm while counting under my breath.

One, two, three. Break. One, two, three. Break.

The space is tight, the angle wrong, but I adjust and keep going. I don’t stop. I can’t.

My arms burn by the time Aiden has the AED machine open and ready for me.

“You got this,” he says, powering it on.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe Trent’s skin off with his shirt to make sure it’s clear of sweat. Then I place the pads where they belong.

“Pads on—don’t touch him.”

Aiden holds his hands in the air and leans back.

The machine speaks, “Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch the patient.”

“Clear!” I shout and then lift my hands.

My eyes lock onto the machine, and we wait for it to tell me what to do. “Shock advised.”

That’s when I press the button and hold my breath.

Trent’s body jumps.

My stomach bottoms out.

“Begin CPR,” the machine reminds me.