Worth the Risk(14)

“Because you’re trying to find a reason why you aren’t dating. You’ll always have an excuse. Quit closing yourself off. Look at your brothers. They both found happiness when they were least expecting it. Love will come to you, too.”

“I have to get going.”

“That was a subtle way to change the topic,” she says, and her smile is back and genuine.

“You caught that, did you?” I head toward the front door.

“Do the contest.”

And my only response is to shut the front door behind me.




The base smells like cinnamon when I walk in, and that means Cochran must be here. There’s a half-played game of chess on the table. A bowl of pistachio shells sits beside it, and two half-empty bottles of water next to that. Chairs are askew. The television is still on. The scanner and its constant chatter is a low hum of background noise from the corner.

Time has stood still.

Someone, somewhere needed the three-man crew to help save their life. Their injuries undoubtedly too serious to wait for an ambulance to take them to the hospital when our helicopters can do it in half the time.

I feel like a fish out of water—a bystander looking at my life that has been put on hold. I itch to get up in the air again. I’m antsy to do what I’ve spent years training for—to save people who need to be rescued.

And I can’t.

I’ve been handcuffed by politics and red tape and a simple risk I took that cost someone their life.

A risk that was needed.

Feeling out of place and almost like I’m snooping by just being here, I move over to the schedule board. Extra shifts and overtime, each person having to pick up a bit of the slack my absence has created.

“Spiderman!” Cochran’s raspy voice calls as he heads my way—the call sign Luke unknowingly made for me a few years back when he saw my red and black helmet during his Spiderman phase.

“How’s it going?”

“Same ol’, same ol’.” He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the doorjamb. He looks at the schedule and back to me as if he already knows what I’m going to say before the words clear my lips.

“Looks to me like you are paying a shit-ton on overtime here. Overworking your staff. Take me off desk duty over at dispatch and let me fly. It’ll help alleviate some of the pressure on them and give me back my sanity.”

His expression turns solemn. “You know I can’t do that, man.”

“How long are you going to keep my wings clipped?” Irritation creeps into my voice, and I clench a fist in silent protest.

“Until Internal Affairs concludes its findings.”

“Fucking Christ. I’m spinning my wheels sitting at a desk.”

“I know, but you broke the rules.”

“You’re goddamn right I did. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re grounded. You take too many risks. First bucking protocol by flying. Then by switching hospitals en route. Someone died because of your decision.”

“She was going to die whether I switched destinations or not.”

“We have rules for a reason. That’s why you’re riding a desk at dispatch—so you understand the chaos on our end and why we need those rules and that protocol. That’s a five-million-dollar helicopter you’re taking chances with.”

“And my job is to save lives with it. What good does it do if I’m told I can’t do that?”

“The rules are there to keep everyone on the team alive, and you know it. If the team is compromised because one man can’t follow the rules, then people die.”

I rake a hand through my hair. Frustration and guilt and humility strobe inside me.

“Deep breath, Malone. It will all be over soon.”

“Not soon enough.” I blow out an exaggerated sigh as the scanner goes off and reminds me of the adrenaline rush I’ve been without for the past month. It’s the way Cochran’s brown eyes bore into mine that has me asking the question. “Do you believe I did the right thing?”

“We’ve been over this.” He sounds just as exasperated as I feel.

“And you’ve never answered.”

“Gray . . .”

“We’ve been over this with other people present. Now it’s just you and me. Do you think I fucked up?”

“It was risky.”

“I always take risks. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t. The question is whether we’d even be having this conversation if the patient had lived? Would the risk have been worth it? Ask yourself that one, and when you have an answer, you’ll know I did the right thing. End of goddamn story.”

“I have your back.” It’s all he says, but when our eyes meet, his are a silent mess of contradictions that I can’t read and don’t leave me any steadier than his words did.

“Then let me get back up in the air and do my job.” With a shake of my head and one last look at the schedule that doesn’t have my name on it, I walk away from everything that is comforting to me.

I drive aimlessly. I have a list a mile long of shit to do—groceries, new cleats for Luke, stop in to dispatch to get my schedule—but I don’t do any of it.