Chasing Honor (The Next Generation Book 2)

by Riley Edwards

  I rolled my eyes at his exaggeration. “Whatever.”

  “You get shit worked out with Honor today?” he asked once he had me trapped in a moving vehicle where I couldn’t avoid his question like I’d done when he’d bombarded me earlier.

  “Barely saw her today. By the time I dropped Carson off at school and came home she was working in her room.”

  “Did you knock?”

  “What?” I shifted my gaze from the red light in front of the car to my partner.

  “Jesus, Ethan. Did you knock on her door? Tell her you wanted to talk to her?”

  “No . . . she . . . um . . .” Fuck, now I was stuttering. I couldn’t even get myself to say the words out loud.

  I knew I’d fucked up and hurt Honor, but I didn’t think she’d want to move out. Once she’d suggested it, I was too angry to speak. Then when I’d found my voice, Carson came downstairs for breakfast. I couldn’t believe she wanted to bail. And the worst part was I’d done it to myself. Both my mom and dad had tried to warn me not to wait, to talk to her immediately, but I didn’t fucking listen.

  After I’d lain awake tossing and turning after my last shift, I knew I needed to talk to her. I’d actually gone downstairs once to wake her up, but it was barely six a.m. and I figured I’d let her sleep an extra hour and catch her when she got home from her run. Only she surprised the hell out of me by changing up her morning routine and was sitting at the kitchen table when I’d gone downstairs for coffee. She looked so fucking beautiful, but the sadness in her eyes was like a shot in the chest.

  I was going to go wake up Carson and come right back to talk to her when she dropped the bomb she wanted to move out. Then shit went downhill. Instead of telling her she wasn’t going anywhere and explaining why I’d behaved like an ass, I stood there trying to get my anger in check. The longer I’d stood there, unbelieving what I was hearing, the more she mistook my silence for acceptance. I didn’t fucking accept anything. Then Carson came downstairs and essentially ended any discussion we were going to have. After I got home from dropping my daughter off at school Honor had already locked herself in her room to work, or pack, or whatever the fuck she was doing. I was too pissed to knock and find out. I thought I’d done the right thing by calming down before I spoke to her. I’d already hurt her, I didn’t want to say something else I’d regret. The day wore on and instead of getting my shit together I got more and more angry. How could she want to leave? Because I was a dick, that’s why.

  “She what?” Lorenz asked, pulling me from my memories.

  “Said she wanted to move out,” I told him.

  “I thought things were going well.”

  “They were—until Chrissy showed up. Man, just seeing her sent me spiraling into my worst fear. I said some shit to Honor I regret.”

  “And you still haven’t apologized or talked to her,” he surmised and shook his head in disgust. At least that’s what I assumed it was, considering I felt the same way about my behavior.

  When the fuck did I turn into such a coward?

  “I told you, I needed a minute to get my shit together before I talked to her.”

  “Right. And I told you, not to delay apologizing to your woman. Now she thinks you don’t want her there and is going to give you space to sort your shit. Am I right?” I grunted my confirmation, and he continued. “So, you gonna let her move out?”

  “Fuck no. But I have to tell you, her wanting to run away at the first sign of trouble doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling. We’re gonna talk about that too.”

  “Yeah, I’d tread lightly about that, friend. You did this to her. You made her feel unwanted. I know you, when you freeze someone out, you freeze them the fuck out. I’ve never known anyone who can shut down like you. You don’t burn when you’re angry, you go arctic. A relationship can weather an argument, what it can’t is silence.”

  “One-Palmer-One, what’s your twenty?” The radio transmission cut off my retort.

  “One-Palmer-One to dispatch, we’re northbound on Everson, passing 3rd Street,” I called back with our location.

  “One-Palmer-One continue northbound to 7th. Single vehicle collision. Possible fatality. EMS and fire are en route.”

  “One-Palmer-One. Copy.”

  Lorenz hit the lights and sirens and increased his speed, veering around cars that had begun to slow.

  “Move to the right, fuckers, don’t stop in the middle of the damn road,” he grouched.

  “Shitty way to start a shift,” I commented.

  No one liked reporting to an accident scene where there were injuries or fatalities, but nothing set the tone of a tour when it was the first call of the night.

  Ladder 61 was already on scene when Lorenz came to a stop behind the truck. The large rig was blocking the accident itself, and looky-loos had already gathered around.

  “I’ll take crowd control,” Lorenz said when he put the squad car in park.

  I rounded the fire truck and cringed. A white Honda Accord had jumped the curb and collided head-on with a traffic light pole. The front of the car was a mangled mess of crunched metal. The left bumper was smashed as well. I was looking for a possible second vehicle when I heard a woman screaming. That wasn’t unusual for an accident scene, however, I thought I’d heard my name.

  “Someone needs to call Officer Ethan Lenox, right goddamn now,” she yelled again.

  My attention went back to the white car and my heart dropped to my stomach, and I took off in a sprint. Honor drove a white Honda Accord. I tried to tell myself it was impossible, Honor was home, safe and sound, with Carson. They were going to watch a movie and make tacos. Carson! Fuck.

  I skidded to a halt in front of the car, and my eyes shifted from the driver to the small passenger in the backseat. I blinked and tried again, praying I was hallucinating.

  Honor.

  Carson.

  I used to think my worst fear was Chrissy coming into Carson’s life and turning everything upside down. I’d been very wrong. Seeing Honor’s car smashed in front of me and not knowing if the two people I loved most in this world were hurt or worse was far scarier. The feeling was indescribable; it went beyond fear.

  “I need that collar now. We have to move her.”

  What in the actual fuck? Why was Chrissy barking orders to the EMS squad? Why in the hell was she here to begin with?

  “Ethan. Thank God. Carson is fine. Minor contusion on her forehead. She’s alert and responsive. I’ve advised EMS to leave her buckled in until I can look her over better.”

  “Daddy!” Carson screamed, and my confusion immediately drained away. Thank God she was talking.

  “Hi, baby, are you okay?” I asked, going for the buckle I desperately needed my daughter in my arms.

  “Don’t move her, Ethan,” Chrissy barked. “Let me finish with Honor and then I’ll check her again.”

  Who the fuck did this woman think she was, telling me what to do with my daughter?

  “Please, Ethan,” she begged. The desperation in her tone stopped me from scooping Carson up and holding her the way I wanted. Instead I grabbed both of her tiny hands in mine and squeezed.

  “I’m scared, Daddy.”

  “I know you are, Squirt. Are you okay?” I asked again.

  “I think so.”

  “How’s Honor?” I asked Chrissy.

  “She’s in shock. Elevated heart rate. Decreased breath sounds on her right side.” Two more paramedics ran over with a board and collar, stopping her from continuing.

  “Miss, you need to move.”

  Chrissy ignored the EMT’s order and continued.

  “I’m Doctor Christina Krier, my ID is in my bag. Shallow, rapid breaths. Asymmetrical chest movement. Heart rate elevated. She needs to be transported now. Give me the collar.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, not letting go of Carson’s hand.

  No one answered as they worked. What the hell was going on with Honor? Before I could ask again Chrissy moved from
the front of the car and ripped off blood covered gloves tossing them on the pavement as she moved toward me. Fuck. The front of her shirt was cover in blood too.

  “Let me check Carson over so you both can ride with Honor.”

  “I’ll be right here, Squirt.” I let go of Carson’s hands and stepped back.

  Chrissy took my place in front of Carson, and worry superseded any anger I felt because Chrissy was touching my daughter.

  “How you feeling, sweetie? Does your head hurt or your tummy?” Chrissy asked and flashed a pen light in Carson’s eyes before she used her fingers to press around Carson’s neck and throat.

  “Nothing hurts,” Carson answered.

  Chrissy’s hand moved over every part of Carson before she stepped back and looked at me.

  “You can take her out. She’ll need to be checked over in the ER, but there are no signs of trauma. She’s extremely lucky.”

  I wanted to yell at Chrissy for telling me Carson needed to be checked over by a doctor, as if I were some sort of idiot who wouldn’t know a visit to the ER was necessary. Instead, relief mixed with fear about Honor, and I remained quiet while I removed Carson from the backseat.

  “How’s Honor?” I asked Chrissy again.

  “She’s critical.”

  “Critical? What’s wrong?”

  “Her right lung has collapsed and—”

  “Will she be okay?” I cut her off.

  Chrissy didn’t answer, she didn’t have to, the anguish that marred her face told me everything I needed to know.

  “We need to move, Doctor,” the EMT said and locked the stretcher in an upright position, giving me my first look at Honor.

  “Jesus Christ.” I turned and held Carson’s face close to my chest uncaring my radio was probably digging into her cheek. It was better than her seeing Honor.

  Blood covered her face and ran down, disappearing under the neck brace she was wearing. The stretcher was moving, but not before I noticed the huge gash on her forehead the EMT was dressing as they ran to the waiting ambulance.

  “Head wounds bleed a lot, Ethan. The laceration looks worse than it is.”

  Laceration. Head wound. Collapsed lung. Please God don’t take her for me.

  “We’re moving,” a man yelled as he loaded Honor in the back of the rig.

  I took off in a jog, hoping I wasn’t hurting Carson in the process, but there was no way I wasn’t going with Honor.

  “Officer,” the paramedic stopped me.

  “She my fiancée. We’re coming.”

  I didn’t give the first fuck I’d lied, there was no way Honor was leaving my sight. I still didn’t have answers, and, as badly as I wanted them, nothing mattered but Honor being okay. After the stretcher was locked in place, he helped me into the back and pointed to where I needed to sit.

  “Carson, baby, keep your eyes closed.”

  “I’m scared. Is Honor okay?”

  “She will be, Squirt.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  The doors slammed shut, causing me to jolt, and I hoped like hell I hadn’t just made a promise to my daughter I couldn’t keep.

  Chrissy had a stethoscope pressed to Honor’s side, below her armpit, her eyes were closed. I still had no idea how the fuck Chrissy happened to come upon the accident. Just when I was going to ask, all hell broke loose.

  “Undo her collar,” Chrissy demanded. The EMT finished taping the IV he’d inserted and opened the brace exposing Honor’s throat and neck.

  “The trachea is deviated to the left,” Chrissy said as her fingers palpated Honor’s throat.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “I need a decompression needle. Give me a ten-gauge cath.” Chrissy cut open Honor’s shirt and glanced around the surrounding supplies before she found the bottle she was looking for and squirted a brown liquid over the right side of her chest. The paramedic ripped open the packaging and handed Chrissy a long-ass needle.

  What the fuck was that for?

  “Call it in,” Chrissy instructed.

  “Calling County General. This is MediStar Bravo-Two-Zero-Seven.”

  “Country General, go ahead please.”

  “County, we have a priority trauma. Female patient, mid-twenties. Motor vehicle accident, air bags deployed. Absent breath sounds on the right. Tracheal deviation. Multiple injuries to head, face, left leg below the knee. Possible dislocation of the ankle. Heart rate is . . .”

  I stopped paying attention to the paramedic and shifted all my attention to Chrissy.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Chrissy didn’t stop poking around Honor’s collarbone and with the most compassion I’d ever heard from her she began to explain.

  “Honor’s right lung has collapsed. Air is collecting in the chest cavity causing pressure to build. Once that happens it causes the right lung to shift left, leaving no room for the lung to fully expand. Her heart is also being compressed and is under stress. I need to relieve the pressure and expand the lung before she dies.”

  Dies? Oh, Fuck. I squeezed Carson tighter, and tried to keep my panic at bay. This could not be happening.

  “In,” Chrissy called out. “I have air. Give me a chest tube.”

  “Heart rhythm lowering.”

  “ETA less than two minutes. Prepare to unload,” the driver yelled.

  “Ethan, when we stop. Stay where you are. Let the doctors take care of her.”

  “I’m going with her,” I argued.

  “The doctors need to concentrate on her. Let them work. We’ll get Carson checked out, and when there’s news someone will find you.”

  “There’s no we,” I seethed.

  Chrissy held up her hands in a defensive manner, and I felt like a dick. She’d saved Honor’s life, or at the very least bought her more time until she made it to the hospital. I shouldn’t have barked at her, but my head was spinning, and my heart felt like it was no longer beating in my own chest, Honor held it in her hands. If she didn’t make, it would never beat again.

  The back doors where flung open and Honor was pulled out. A flurry of medical professionals surrounded her stretcher and she disappeared through the doors.

  Chrissy followed Honor into a cubicle, and I remembered I’d forgotten to tell Honor something. I quickly got out of the ambulance and chased after them with Carson still in my arms. I ignored the shouts of the nurses that tried to stop me until I made it to the space they’d taken Honor to.

  “Sir, step back,” a doctor said.

  “I have to tell her something.”

  “It will have to wait,” she replied.

  “Let him through. This is his fiancée,” Chrissy told them.

  “You have one second,” the older woman told me.

  I didn’t delay rushing to Honor’s side.

  “We love you so much. We’ll be right here waiting for you to wake up, smalls. Fight, Honor. You hear me? Fight for us, baby. I’m so sorry. Please come back to us.”

  “You need to move, sir.”

  I moved out of the way and prayed.

  Please, God, bring Honor back to us.

  20

  Carson had been checked out and had received a clean bill of health. She had a bump on her forehead that was most likely cause by her hitting herself when she’d tried to cover her face. No cuts, breaks, or any other injury. Chrissy had been right, it was a miracle Carson hadn’t been hurt.

  Honor hadn’t been so lucky; she was in surgery to stop the internal bleeding.

  “She’s gonna be okay, son.” My dad said, joining me at the window.

  I’d been staring out into the parking lot, thinking over the last few days. All the words I hadn’t said, the ones I had. The last time I’d kissed her, and all the missed opportunities since then.

  Why the fuck had I been such an idiot? I should’ve talked to her. I never should’ve shut her out. Two days I’ll never get back. Two whole days I’d missed being with her, laughing with he
r, loving her. Two days since I’d seen her smile. Over what? Nothing, none of it was important.

  Not only did I miss those days, but Carson had too. That made me an even bigger dick. Please God do not let the last words I ever speak to Honor be in anger. Please don’t let her die.

  “I can’t lose her. We can’t,” I amended. “She has to be okay.”

  “She will be.”

  My parents, as well as my aunts and uncles, had been waiting with me in the sixth-floor surgical family room, hoping for good news soon. It had been hours since a doctor had been in to give us an update. I was getting ready to lose my fucking mind when the door finally opened, and Chrissy walked in. She’d changed out of her bloody clothes and now had on a pair of hospital scrubs, reminding me her life had indeed gone on. After she’d left Carson and me, she’d continued to chase her dreams. She was a doctor.

  “Has the nurse been in?” she asked shyly from the doorway.

  “No,” I clipped not caring if I sounded like a dick.

  “I’ll take Carson out into the hall so you all can talk,” my mom said, picking a sleeping Carson up.

  It wasn’t lost on me when my aunts stood and flanked my mom, forcing Chrissy to move or be trampled.

  Once my Aunt Emily closed the door, Chrissy began to speak. “She’s out of surgery. It went well.” Relief washed over me. And I had to close my eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Honor had a spleen laceration. The doctor preformed a splenectomy and was able to stop the internal bleeding. Luckily, the tension pneumothorax was caught and didn’t cause any further issues. Her CT scan came back normal, the airbag did its job and prevented any serious head trauma. I’m sure the doctor will be in soon to go over all the details and what her recovery is going to look like.”

  Chrissy turned to leave, but I stopped her.

  “What were you doing there?”

  Over the last few hours reports had come in about the hit-and-run accident that’d caused Honor to hit the pole. But like any eyewitness accounts, they varied. It was rare any two observers reported the same details. Lorenz and my captain had been by to check on Honor and Carson and to tell me they were tracking every lead. Unfortunately, the intersection was not equipped with a traffic camera, so they had to rely on the bystanders’ statements—and there were a lot of them. But the one person no one had interviewed yet was Christina Krier.