Everything Changes (11 page)

The boy on the ground moaned, and the woman said, “Can’t you give him something for the pain?”

Jase tried to pull himself out of his memories and engage in the present. “Can’t,” he muttered. “I don’t know if he has any drug allergies, and a morphine allergy could kill him.” The boy thrashed weakly, and without any way to immobilize him, Jase did his best to try to soothe him. “Gotta stay still, bud. If your neck and back are hurt, it might make it worse.” Mercifully the kid fell into unconsciousness again.

“Rescue services are on the way.” Carey knelt beside Jase, looking at the bloody mess on the ground. “Fuck.” Jase could see him turn white.

“Don’t look at this, man,” he said, hearing how strained his own voice was. Carey continued to stare down at the kid.

“He’s going to lose that leg, isn’t he?” Carey whispered. Jase saw no reason to answer, letting the crushed and mangled flesh and bone speak for itself. He continued to monitor the kid’s vitals and bleeding while a numb, detached feeling settled over him, his vision narrowing, his movements becoming mechanical. The meaty smell of blood and devastating injury overwhelmed him, and the sound of sirens and helicopter rotor blades came as if from far away, almost like a distant dream.

C
AREY
KNELT
awkwardly next to Jase, sickened by the boy’s injury and the devastation three families would shortly be feeling.

Such a fucking waste,
he thought viciously,
all for a goddamn joyride.
His heart ached at what this kid would be facing for the rest of his life, how he would pay the price for his carelessness, have to live with the guilt of causing the senseless death of his friends, all while dealing with recovery from a grievous injury.

It would have been better if you’d died, kid,
Carey thought fatalistically, shaking his head sadly. He hoped the boy had a rock-solid support system because he was going to need it.

Jase’s clipped voice startled him out of his reverie. “Where’s the fucking CASEVAC?”

“CASEVAC?” Carey was confused. “Can’t you hear the sirens? Ambulance is almost here.”

“I can hear the fucking helicopter! Why aren’t they landing?”

Carey looked up and saw a local news chopper hovering overhead, the cameraman hanging out the side, and his confusion deepened. Why would Jase want it to land?

Suddenly Jase turned to him and gripped the front of his T-shirt, his voice low and threatening. “Everett goes first. You got that?”

Carey’s first inclination was to shake Jase off, and as he was opening his mouth to say, “What the fuck,” he caught a glimpse of Jase’s eyes. They weren’t unfocused, but they were distant, like he was seeing something that wasn’t there. Carey felt a chill go through him.
Flashback.
From his work with wounded veterans and his own personal research, he knew a combat stress reaction could be triggered by any number of things, sometimes things as innocuous as the smell of diesel fuel or the sight of smoke in the distance. For Jase it was the sound of a helicopter, the boy’s injury… oh, fucking hell.

Jase’s grip on Carey’s T-shirt tightened, and he repeated, “Got it? Everett goes first.”

“Yeah, man,” Carey said quietly. “I’ll personally make sure that Everett goes first. You have my word.”

Jase let go of him and turned back to the boy on the ground, his hands moving efficiently as he monitored him, changing out the empty bag of saline for another one, exchanging the blood-soaked hemostatic gauze he’d packed into the worst of the wounds with fresh. The pristine white immediately turned red.

The sirens finally wailed to a stop somewhere behind them, and pounding boots sounded on the pavement as paramedics and EMTs ran up. Carey backed away, hearing Jase rattle off medical jargon that was incomprehensible to him as he brought the other caregivers up to speed on the situation. When he heard Jase start demanding the CASEVAC chopper to land immediately, Carey stepped up and took his arm.

“HM1, they got this.”

Jase stood up, his eyes blazing, and then as he looked around the chaotic scene, Carey could see the awareness start to return. Blood drained from Jase’s face, leaving his skin pale and clammy. He started to shake visibly, his breath coming in gasps. Carey had to get Jase out of here.

He looked around, relieved beyond measure when he saw their Jeep wasn’t boxed in by ambulances or other vehicles. The cops on scene were busy dealing with the traffic and onlookers, and now was their chance. He knelt next to the helpful woman and asked her for a piece of paper and a pen, and when she dug them out of her purse, he wrote his and Jase’s contact information down.

“Give this to one of the cops, okay? I’ve got to get him out of here.” The woman looked at him blankly, and Carey said, trying to keep the impatience from his voice, “He’s a combat vet and he’s about to have a panic attack. We’ll be available for interviews, but later.”

The woman looked at Jase and then nodded agreement, taking the paper from his hand and tucking it carefully into her purse. Carey patted her shoulder in gratitude and then stood and gripped Jase’s arm, scooping up Jase’s medical kit from the ground and slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Let’s go, Jase.” Jase was bent double, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Carey led him to the Jeep and got him into the passenger seat, saying, “Breathe, dude. You’ve got to breathe.”

He flung the medical kit into the back and climbed into the driver’s seat, relieved the keys were still in the ignition. Maneuvering carefully around the wreck and the various stopped cars, he accelerated and got them out of there.

C
HAPTER
8

C
AREY
DROVE
them home as fast as he safely could, looking at Jase with concern as he huddled in the passenger seat, his face pale and clammy, his breaths coming in heaving gasps. Twice on the way, Carey had had to pull over so Jase could vomit, leaning out of the car door as far as he could, heaves wracking his body. By the end of the second attack, he wasn’t bringing anything up but watery liquid, and his breathing wasn’t calming. If anything, it was getting worse. His breaths were painful-sounding and hoarse, and little sounds were coming from his throat as the anxiety attack worsened.

Carey screeched to a halt in front of Jase’s home, and he hurried around to help Jase from the car. Jase brushed him off roughly, then staggered up the steps to the front door, dropping his keys several times. When Carey attempted to help, Jase snarled at him.

“Fucking don’t!”

Jase’s shaking hands could barely manage to unlock the door, and with far less than his customary grace, he staggered inside, dropping keys and wallet haphazardly on the floor. He took a few lurching steps, then put his back to the wall before collapsing slowly to the floor, his legs seemingly boneless. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them, his breath coming in heaving gasps.

“Jase?” Carey lowered himself awkwardly to sit next to his friend, his hand coming up to rest on Jase’s shoulder. Jase was frighteningly pale, beads of sweat standing out on his hairline. Carey was alarmed, but he had seen this countless times in his work at the Hope Ranch. He placed his hand on the back of Jase’s neck lightly, a point of contact for him to focus on as Carey encouraged, “Breathe, Jase. Just breathe.”

Jase’s mouth opened, but he was struggling for air, starting to gasp as his throat constricted further, the panic taking firmer hold.

“Jase, look at me.” Carey kept his voice calm, steady. Jase raised his head and met Carey’s eyes, his own eyes wild. “Breathe with me, Jase. Come on now. One, two, three…,” Carey counted out as he drew medium breaths in and let them out slowly, watching Jase struggle to match his breathing with Carey’s. “That’s it, dude. Breathe with me.”

Carey kept up the soothing tone, running his hand lightly up and down Jase’s back as the other man calmed. After a few minutes, Jase’s breathing had returned almost to normal, but he was pale, his hands not quite steady. With a sigh, he slumped sideways and let his head rest on Carey’s shoulder. Carey wrapped his arm around Jase, pulling him close. From his work with other veterans, he knew some craved physical contact after an anxiety episode, and he tightened his arm, letting the touch soothe Jase, feeling him relax further against him as he buried his face in Carey’s neck.

They sat there like that for countless minutes, Jase’s breath coming in puffs, warm and moist against Carey’s jaw. Carey let his cheek rest against Jase’s hair, sitting still, just holding him. He stretched his legs out in front of him, settling in, wincing as his prosthesis shifted slightly with the movement.

“Jesus, Carey, I’m sorry,” Jase muttered as he tried to sit up, but Carey refused to let him.

“I’m fine, man, really. I’m more worried about you.”

Jase held himself stiff for a few seconds before slumping back down on Carey’s shoulder.

“Shit.”

“Take as long as you need, Jase.”

Soon Jase’s breathing steadied, and Carey felt him sigh deeply. For some reason neither of them wanted to move, and they huddled together on the floor in Jase’s darkened foyer. Jase’s body was solid and firm against him, a comforting weight.

“Carey?” Jase whispered finally, and Carey could feel his lips move against his neck as he spoke. Carey suppressed a shudder, a frisson of heat moving through him at the contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I see—” Jase’s voice trailed off, but his fingers hesitantly traced along Carey’s prosthetic.

“Will you take this off? Please?”

Carey pulled away slightly so he could look into Jase’s eyes, searching his expression. Jase’s eyes were reddened, glistening with an undefinable emotion, something that almost looked like… guilt. After what Jase had just been through, Carey wasn’t about to deny him something he seemed to need.

Reluctantly he pulled his arm from around Jase, quickly rolling down the liners and easing his stump out of the socket of the prosthetic, setting the artificial leg carefully aside. He looked at Jase again. Jase brushed his fingers against the protective sock that cushioned the stump from the inside of the prosthesis.

“This too,” he rasped. “Show me.”

Carey closed his eyes briefly, then slowly pulled off the sock, revealing his stump, hissing at the shock of cool air against the overly sensitive skin.

Jase’s fingers trembled as he reached out and slowly, gently, ran the tips over the network of scars that crisscrossed the skin of where Carey’s leg used to be. He bent his head low as if to see better, his fingers tracing the scars over and over.

“Oh, Carey.” Jase’s voice was hoarse, barely there. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Now Carey could feel the drops of unmistakable tears hitting his skin, along with gusting breaths as Jase started to unravel once again.

“Hey,” he said firmly. “Jase, look at me.” Carey caught his breath as Jase raised his eyes, the vivid green awash in guilt and tears, making them shine like emeralds. Carey reached out, brushing the wetness away from Jase’s cheeks.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jase. My God, it wasn’t your fault.”

Jase shook his head, closing his eyes, lips pressed tightly together as he tried to rein in his emotions. “I couldn’t save your leg, Carey. I tried—I tried so hard to save your leg. So strong, so beautiful—” His voice broke, and so did Carey’s heart.

“Jase. You saved my fucking life,” he said forcefully, tightening his fingers on Jase’s cheeks. “I’m alive because of you.” A sudden realization struck him, and his voice grew hoarse, fainter. “And I never thanked you for that, did I? I never fucking thanked you for saving my life.”

Without thought, Carey leaned forward and brushed his lips over Jase’s.

“Thank you, Jase. “Another soft, lingering kiss. “Thank you for saving me. For not giving up on me, for fighting for my life.”

As he finished speaking, Carey placed a kiss on each side of Jase’s quivering mouth, their breath mingling as he pressed their foreheads together. He was still cupping Jase’s cheeks in his hands, stroking the stubbly skin gently, but he couldn’t let go…. He didn’t
want
to let go.

“I’m sorry that I never thanked you before. I’m sorry I never told you how fucking
grateful
I am for you, Jase. When I saw you leaning over me out there, I knew I would be okay. Because you were there and you wouldn’t let me die.” Carey’s voice was a low whisper, shaky with emotion.

Jase moved one hand up to grip the back of Carey’s neck, gently caressing Carey’s scarred stump with the other hand. The touch made Carey’s skin tingle, and he could feel his breathing grow rougher, his lips parting as Jase closed the small distance between them, settling his open mouth lightly over Carey’s. For a moment neither of them moved, and then Jase firmed his lips, pressing harder, moved them against Carey’s, encouraged them to part. Carey gasped, and Jase slid his tongue inside Carey’s mouth, seeking.

Their lips clung together before breaking apart with a lush sound. Carey moved a shaking thumb to trace over Jase’s swollen lower lip, feeling the moistness there, feeling the small puffs of air as Jase rasped, “Carey. Jesus, Carey.”

Jase lowered his head to Carey’s shoulder, and Carey cupped the back of Jase’s head with one hand, his other hand rubbing soothingly up and down his back.

“It’s okay, Jase. It’s going to be okay. Deep breaths now.”

Jase shook his head against Carey’s shoulder. “I keep seeing you lying there in that dirt, so still. There was so much blood everywhere. I constantly relive that moment when I first saw you, when I didn’t know if you were alive or dead—”

He shuddered, and Carey kept up the soothing touch.

“I don’t remember anything from before the blast. Most of the day is a blank.” Carey grimaced. The missing time had bothered him for a while, but he knew it was his brain’s way of protecting itself from the memory of trauma.

“We played volleyball, Carey, all morning. There was nothing going on. It was so quiet. You had to stand duty after lunch, so you said you wanted to take a short nap. I had to go see a few guys in the clinic, and when I came back, you were curled up asleep in the shade of that Humvee tire. You had your head on a rucksack and it looked so uncomfortable, so I sat down against the tire and pulled your head into my lap.”