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Our dispatcher was calling for the rescue unit and an ambulance for a multiple car crash scene at Tenth and Elm. Adam climbed behind the wheel of the ambulance, and I took the passenger seat. He was an EMT and the driver. I was a licensed paramedic, as was my partner, Brett.
I’d been a paramedic for five years, having gone to college after high school, then getting my EMT certifications. While I’d worked as an EMT, I had continued my education to become a licensed paramedic. I loved the intensity of it, the fact that I got to help people in times of emergency, and then got to hand them off to the doctors at the hospital after they were hopefully stabilized.
My older brother, Wesley, had tried to talk me into becoming a doctor like him, but I had told him I much preferred to be out on the streets where the adrenaline was a little higher. Not that the adrenaline wasn’t pumping in the emergency room, but I didn’t want to be confined in a building. I’d also told him that I didn’t want the debt that he had from medical school.
Adam and I followed the rescue truck out of the garage and hit our lights and sirens. The roads were messy, having received several inches more than what had been called for. Overnight, the inch that had been forecasted turned into almost five inches, and the road crews hadn’t been ready for it.
“How are you doing?” Adam asked as we followed a safe distance behind the rescue truck.
“Good, tired, but good. How about you? Did you enjoy your holidays? I don’t think I have seen you since right before Christmas.”
He grinned. “Yeah, they were good. I got engaged on New Year’s Eve.”
“You did? Well, congratulations,” I told him. Adam was almost eight years younger than me. I envied him to have found someone to start a life with at the age of twenty-five. At thirty-three, I was still avidly searching. I dated often and figured that eventually, I would find that special someone that wasn’t filled with drama. I’d been close once, but after really getting to know her, I’d found out she was the fucking queen of the drama scene.
It seemed that these days, women created more drama than was necessary. I’d been on more than one date where the woman wanted to share every tale of woe that had come their way, and while some of it was interesting, they just wouldn’t stop with the stories. Did they possibly think that sharing every dramatic event that happened in their past was a good idea when you first met a guy?
I mean, I knew that it was necessary to hear about the good and bad times of someone that you cared about—Wesley again came to mind when I remembered he’d learned some serious things about Charlotte, his fiancée. But did these women need to share everything on a first date?
And holy crap, ladies these days wanted to talk about themselves. I was tired of sitting over dinner or drinks and hearing their entire life tale. What happened to small talk, asking questions in reciprocation?
“You guys pick a date yet?”
He shook his head. “No, not yet, but we are thinking late spring or early summer. Although I think I would prefer spring. Summer is too damn hot when you are wearing a monkey suit.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I agree. Wesley and Charlotte are getting married in March.”
He glanced my way. “I’m glad you didn’t say they were planning a Valentine’s wedding.”
“Yeah, right. They thought about it but decided against it.”
“Are they doing a St. Patrick’s day theme?”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure her colors are light blue and silver.”
He laughed. “You know what colors your future sister-in-law wants at her wedding?”
I smirked his way. “Only because I’m an excellent little brother and listen to Wesley when he needs to vent.”
He laughed heartily. “Is he stressed over the wedding?”
“No, not really. I think he’s pretty excited, but the two of them are so busy that it’s hard to plan the wedding. Kayley told Charlotte to hire a wedding specialist to take care of the details, but she hasn’t found one she likes, and now she thinks it’s too late. Luckily, they do have a location for the reception already.”
“That’s good. I think that’s going to be one of the hardest choices, at least by the way Mary talks.”
The rescue truck ahead of us began to slow and moved into the lane of oncoming traffic to get around all the stopped cars. We followed in their path. Hopefully, the police would reroute traffic here soon, or we could get this cleared up quickly.
As we came to a stop, the two of us jumped out and began to collect gear. I saw one of our local cops next to a two-door blue coupe that looked to have sustained the majority of the damage from the collision. Joe waved me over, and I went to find out what was up.
“Doors won’t open; you’re going to need to extricate her, and she said she thinks her leg is bleeding, but it is caught under the dash. She can’t tell us how bad.”
I glanced inside and saw blood on her face, but it seemed superficial as it wasn’t flowing very fast, and it was coming from her nose. Most likely broken from the airbag.
“Hey, Young, just a heads-up; this is Roman Novak’s sister. Her name is Roxanne, or he calls her Roxy.”
“Okay,” I told him as I leaned into the window that had been broken out and asked her to open her eyes and look my way without turning her head. It took her a moment, but she did. Unfortunately, since we were going to have to cut her out, I was going to have to get into the car and check her first.
I turned to Joe. “Help me get in.” I lifted my leg to climb through the shattered window. Luckily, I was thin, so I was able to fit through the opening and get into the seat. I felt the glass under me and hoped my pants were true to their nature and protective against the shards. Otherwise, I’d be pulling the glass out of my ass and thighs for a while.
