3. Ava

Not today,memory lane, not today.

The memory of that night loops around and around in my brain as consciousness threatens to drag me under from the lack of oxygen. I can already imagine the kaleidoscope of bruises that'll paint my skin tomorrow.

"Bean," I hiss, irritation lacing my voice as the snake continues to twitch from side to side on my neck, her scales cool and smooth against my skin. I press on the bookshelf, a hulking mass of dark wood laden with books and knickknacks, hoping to dislodge it. All it does is thump back onto my chest, making a sharp pang shoot through my already sore ribs. "Move," I squeak out, the word barely escaping my lips.

"Ava, the ambulance just pulled in." The operator's voice, distant and tinny, filters through the speakerphone by my head. If I had thrown my phone any farther in my earlier panic, I'd be a goner, lying here with a snake poised like a regal necklace gone wrong. "Stay with me until you hear them come in," she adds, her voice a lifeline in my cluttered clinic.

"The door's unlocked," I barely get out, the words laborious and heavy.

"Hello?" The distant shout, muffled by the clinic walls, barely reaches my ears, but there's a glaring problem—I can't shout back.

"Hello," I grunt, exerting enough effort for Bean to lift her head, her reptilian gaze meeting mine with an air of offended dignity. "I'm going to feed you to a hawk," I threaten, though it's an empty promise.

"Ava Martinez," a voice, closer now, calls.

"Ava," the operator chimes in, "I have confirmation that paramedics Ethan and Tyler are on the scene. Good luck." The line goes dead, leaving me in silence, save for the distant echoes of the clinic.

Aren't they supposed to remain on the line?

The sound of boots squeaking on the bleached linoleum floors grows closer. Someone sneezes, the sound reverberating down the hall.

A sudden realization hits me—the door! In my fall, the door shut itself. "Door!" I try to warn them with a strained voice, but the sound is barely a whisper.

"Ava, I'm going to crack the door," a voice, smooth and warm like molten chocolate, says from the other side. It washes over me like a comforting blanket, one I wish I was under rather than this damn shelf. "I'm Tyler, and my partner went to grab our kit, maybe even a saw."

I let my head thump back against the cool floor, prepared to count the water spots on the ceiling all over again—a makeshift constellation in my own little universe. There are twelve. I've counted them over and over, a monotonous distraction.

"Hello," I rasp to Tyler.

"Hello, Ava." Amused, yet calm, and delicious. How can a voice be this attractive right now? I'm pinned under a bookshelf because of sheer clumsiness with a snake playing the role of an unwanted scarf, and he can't even open the door.

Green eyes, bright and mischievous, peek through the crack in the door, almost dancing with amusement at the sight of Bean. "Well, hello there," he says, his playful tone suggesting he's more entertained than concerned. It takes me a moment to realize he's addressing the snake, not me. "I bet you caused all this drama, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I manage to squeak out, my voice strained under the weight of the bookshelf. I attempt to turn my head to see him better, but pain shoots through my muscles, reminding me of my precarious position.

"Don't move your head, Ava, just in case. Stay still," he instructs, his voice smooth and comforting, like warm honey. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

All I can muster up is a grunt in response, but internally, I'm wrestling with an unexpected surge of jealousy. The thought of him calling anyone else sweetheart ignites a fiery sensation within me, a feeling I've never encountered before.

Down, girl.

"What do we have?" another voice asks. It's deep and gravelly, contrasting sharply with Tyler's. It's like distant thunder, rumbling through the clinic's walls.

"According to dispatch, a woman in her late twenties is trapped under a bookshelf," Tyler replies, his voice laced with professional concern.

"I'm taking the door off," Ethan declares, his tone gruff and decisive. I remember now. Ethan and Tyler, the unlikely duo here to rescue me.

"Hinges are on the other side," Tyler tells him, the sound of the door rattling under Ethan's inspection.

"Then I'm going through the window," Ethan decides with determination, his footsteps receding down the hall.

"Well, Ava, looks like you're about to witness my brother making a grand entrance through a window," Tyler comments. His green eyes sparkle through the crack, full of life and warmth. He tries to squeeze through, but his broad, muscular frame is clearly not made for such narrow spaces.

"Never had a man climb through a window for me," I choke out, the effort causing Bean to tighten her grip.

Tyler's ensuing laughter is a comforting balm, warming me against the chill seeping up from the cold floor.

I attempt a smile, but my facial muscles protest painfully. "I'm sorry I'm such a klutz."

"Don't be sorry, Ava. Accidents happen," Tyler reassures me in his gentle, melodious voice. "We're here to help you. Let's get you out of there, shall we?"

I nod slightly, mindful of Bean's constricting embrace.

Suddenly, a loud crash and a string of curses signal Ethan's not so graceful entry through the window. The cacophony of his grunts and the sound of him wrangling his way in fill the room. I find myself hoping that insurance covers this kind of unusual break-in.

"How the hell did you manage to get a whole shelf to fall on you?" Ethan's voice carries a mix of concern and exasperation, though I can't see him.

"Well, when I woke up this morning, my first thought was, ‘How can I possibly ruin the day?' and guess what idea popped into my head?"

"A bookshelf on your chest?" he questions, leaning over me now. His chocolate brown eyes, full of intensity, meet mine from above. His dark hair is tousled and unruly, falling slightly over his forehead and adding to his rugged, imposing presence. "Well, lady, you certainly went out of your way, didn't you?" he remarks with a hint of amusement.

"Ethan, was it?" I retort, striving for sweetness, despite the storm of vinegar brewing inside me. Mama always said honey catches more flies than vinegar, but right now, it's a struggle to keep the acidity at bay. "Maybe you should focus on doing your job, eh?"

Scoffing at my predicament, Ethan effortlessly steps over me with the grace of a seasoned athlete. He grips the door firmly, the muscles in his forearms rippling under his taut skin, and then reveals an amused Tyler on the other side. Ethan's movements are fluid, like a predator confidently navigating its territory. His muscular arms flex as he yanks the door off its hinges with a decisive jerk.

Tyler stands there, his eyebrows raised in surprise, as he lets out a low whistle of admiration. He's built much like Ethan, and these two could pass for brothers, if it weren't for Ethan's brooding darkness contrasting Tyler's lighter, more approachable demeanor. I barely have time to register their striking differences before Ethan turns back, his focus now on the bookshelf pinning me down.

"Should we, I don't know, wait for a different ambulance?" Tyler muses, scratching his head. His blond hair catches the light, giving him an almost halo-like appearance. "She smells mostly human."

Ethan takes a deep, controlled breath before muttering a string of expletives, his voice a low rumble of frustration. "Why would dispatch send us to a human?"

"The human is right here," I cry out, feeling the oppressive weight of the shelf growing heavier by the moment. What in the world did I load onto this thing? My mind flickers to the countless books and trinkets I've collected over the years.

"All they had," Tyler responds with a shrug. "Ava, is it okay with you that you have a wolf squad instead of a human one?"

At this point, I couldn't care less. "I don't care if you are purple and scaly, just get this thing off me," I exclaim with both pain and desperation. I close my eyes tightly, stars dancing behind my eyelids from the intense pressure.

"Protocol is the same," Ethan argues, his voice firm yet laced with a hint of concern. "We get the bookshelf off her, assess the damages, and get her to the hospital."

"Perfect. Sounds great. I approve. I will not sue," I rush out, an adrenaline surge giving me the fleeting illusion of strength.

"One, two," Ethan counts down, his voice steady and authoritative. "Three."

Suddenly, the oppressive weight lifts off my chest, and I hungrily gulp in air. Pain flares in my side as I breathe, stealing my breath away. I've watched enough medical dramas to know better than to move in an emergency, so I remain as still as possible.

"Stay still," Tyler says, his voice calm and reassuring as the sound of my belongings clattering to the floor fills the room. "You should have anchored the bookshelf to the wall," he mutters.

I let his comment slide, knowing he's right. He doesn't need to be an ass about it.

"All right, Ava, keep talking to me. Where do you feel pain?" Ethan's voice hovers over me, full of professional concern. He leans in, and I can almost feel him sniffing the air, perhaps trying to scent the extent of my injuries.

"Broken ribs…right side," I gasp out, dreading the prolonged ache that's sure to follow. "Ankle, left."

"Seems like all doctors are the same, aren't you?" Ethan's voice is monotonous, giving nothing away about his thoughts or feelings.

"No," I protest, but then Tyler prods my ankle, eliciting a sharp scream from me.

"All right, Ava, it looks like you're getting a ride in the expensive taxi, and I get to strap you down to a gurney," Tyler says, standing over me. His eyes, a vibrant shade of green, meet mine, ensuring I see the concern in his gaze.

"Not the kind of straps I was hoping for on a Friday night," I blurt out, my words tinged with shock induced boldness.

"Pain meds too," Ethan says, his brow furrowing in empathy. "I can smell her pain."

"Be right back. Don't go racing off on us, Ava." Tyler winks at me before dashing out of the room. His flirtatious demeanor provides a welcome, albeit brief, distraction from the pain.

"Looks like a few lacerations," Ethan observes, speaking more to himself than to me.

"Blood?" I ask, feeling a wave of queasiness wash over me.

Ethan glances back at me, his nostrils flaring slightly, as if assessing the air. "No, ma'am," he replies, but his tone suggests otherwise. I know he's lying, and he knows it too, but I don't have the energy to challenge him. There's no point in dwelling on details that won't change my situation.

"That's what gets to you?" he asks, a hint of a smile flickering across his typically stoic face.

"Blood should stay where it's supposed to," I respond, swallowing hard to combat the nausea.

"Aren't you a veterinarian?" he teases, clearly finding amusement in my discomfort.

"Animals," I clarify, closing my eyes to shut out the room. "Pets."

He hums thoughtfully. "Any allergies or medical conditions we need to know about?"

"No allergies," I respond, thankful for at least that small mercy. "I have a weird, unknown disorder discovered right after my eleventh birthday. Woke up screaming in pain."

"Does it interact with anything?" he inquires, his voice softened with concern.

"No," I croak out, looking up at him as memories of that time flood back, hot and piercing.

I hear the squeak of wheels approaching down the hall, signaling the imminent arrival of more assistance.

"Looks like pain meds have arrived." Ethan tries to smile, but it's forced. It appears as though he is trying to keep me calm.

Why?

I try to focus on the present, commanding my mind not to wander into a maze of what-ifs. Just let the paramedics do their job and get you to the hospital. You'll be safe there and in good hands, I silently assure myself, feeling the cold floor beneath me.

"Ava," Tyler coos as he strides into the room, his presence like a beam of light in the dim space. "Your knight in shining armor is here." He sweeps in with a big kit, his movements graceful and confident. He kneels beside me, his face etched with concern. "Are you ready to feel better?"

"I sure am," I hiss through the pain, trying to muster up a smile, despite the discomfort.

"I've got you, butterfly," he replies, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

"What happened to sweetheart?" I quip, finding a shred of my usual sass, despite the situation. His endearments are oddly comforting in this chaos.

He tugs on a pair of gloves, the latex stretching snugly over his strong hands, and winks at me. His blond hair falls charmingly over his forehead, and his long lashes briefly touch his cheeks in concentration. "Butterfly just seems to fit a little better right now."

Ethan scoffs, but I'm too wrapped up in Tyler's care to mind.

"Ah, man, don't be jealous," Tyler teases while carefully opening a small alcohol wipe. His gentle touch pinches the skin on my arm before he expertly slides the needle in. "There you go, baby."

I nod, feeling a cool wave of relief emanate from the injection site. The drug works its magic faster than I expect, making my head swim in a pleasant haze. "Oh, that's good stuff," I murmur, feeling my body sink into a state of blissful numbness.

"Feeling good already?" Ethan snorts with amusement as he prepares the gurney. "Let's get her up before we attend to her injuries."

"You got it. We'll roll on three," Tyler says, his tone upbeat as he maneuvers the gurney into my office. "One, two," Tyler counts, the anticipation building. "Three."

My body shifts onto the gurney, and I let out a grunt. My senses catch something unexpected—something wet and squishy. "Is that blood?" I ask, a twinge of panic in my voice.

"Look at me," Ethan orders firmly, grabbing my attention as Tyler secures me with practiced ease. "It's just a broken snow globe."

"No!" I mourn the loss, my voice stretched with emotion. "My mama got me that."

"Butterfly, I hate to break it to you, but you had an entire shelf of snow globes," Tyler remarks, his tone gentle as he adjusts my position on the gurney.

Had. Tears blur my vision as a wave of nostalgia and loss washes over me. The snake around my neck feels like an added weight to my sorrow.

"There's a snow globe in my leg, isn't there?" I ask, the pain meds muffling any physical sensations.

"No," Tyler starts, his voice calming.

"Yep," Ethan cuts in matter-of-factly. "Can't remove it right now, tempest."

"Butterfly. Tempest." I sniffle, the medications amplifying my emotions, and memories of being emotional after my wisdom teeth removal resurface. "Do you call all your patients that?"

Tyler carefully tucks my phone by my side, his warm fingers brushing against my skin. He leans over, his eyes locking with mine, and I see a mischievous twinkle in them. "Only the extraordinary ones," he flirts, "who smell like lavender and wildflowers."

"Don't make her feel too special, Ty," Ethan jokes, setting the kit down.

"Buy me dinner first, big guy," I tease, a laugh bubbling out of me like I'm floating on a cloud of wine and chocolate.

"She's definitely feeling good," Tyler observes, rolling the gurney.

"I need to lock up," I remember suddenly, reaching for my phone. Eloise is on her vampire date. A thought strikes me—if I hadn't downloaded that dating app and thrown my phone in a fit of embarrassment, I might have met a much grimmer fate in that office.

"That is quite the story," Tyler says, his voice laced with amusement and intrigue.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" I swallow, trying to suppress my embarrassment. The cool night air brushes against my skin, reminding me of the reality of my situation. Tomorrow, I will face the consequences, but tonight, I'm just here, caught in this bizarre moment.

"Otherworldly Connections, huh?" Tyler smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling in mirth as he rolls me out into the night. The stars twinkle above, indifferent to my plight. "I used to be on there. In fact, we all were."

Is he flirting with me?The thought dances through my mind, but in my current state, I'm strangely detached from it. "What did you give me?"

"Witch's morphine," Ethan answers, looming over me like a protective giant. The shadows created by the ambulance's lights play across his face, giving him a mysterious appearance. "Tell me where the keys are."

"Forceful," I comment, tapping into my usual sass. "Just because you have a penis doesn't mean a girl wants you to jackhammer it into her."

What the hell am I talking about?

Ethan's expression flickers with a ghost of a smile, but it disappears as quickly as it came. "Keys," he insists, his voice a deep rumble in the quiet night.

Rolling my eyes, I tell him, "Front desk, there's a key rack for all our keys. The alarm code is four-twenty."

Tyler bursts into laughter, his guffaws echoing across the clinic's exterior. The absurdity of the situation strikes me, and I can't help but crack a smile.

Ethan shakes his head in disbelief and walks away, his tall frame moving with purpose. I just silenced the big, growly wolf, and a small sense of triumph bubbles inside me.

"Let's get you locked and loaded," Tyler announces, his voice cheerful as he maneuvers the gurney toward the ambulance. "Ethan, call in to Mystic." He shouts down the hall.

"Mystic Medic." I chuckle, the name sounding like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Do I look like a cartoon?" Tyler teases.

I have got to stop thinking out loud.

"It's cuffing season," I retort, my mind momentarily drifting to thoughts of cozy evenings full of binge watching shows and enough snacks to supply a fuck-a-thon.

Tyler pauses as he secures me in the ambulance, his touch careful and sure. "Don't make offers you can't follow through on, butterfly," he quips, sliding me into the ambulance with practiced ease.

"Show off," I mutter, a blush creeping onto my cheeks. His presence is unexpectedly comforting. "So who's joining me back here? You or growly bear?"

"Don't call him a bear," Tyler warns, chuckling as he climbs in with me. His movements are efficient yet gentle as he arranges medical supplies. The interior of the ambulance is a flurry of activity, yet there's a method to the madness as they move around.

"Ethan," he finally answers me, his tone suggesting a mix of respect and camaraderie.

"Fun," I reply, the word dripping with sarcasm.

"Clinic is locked up, and I have the keys," Ethan says, tossing my keys in and climbing in after. "Let's go before she bleeds out on us."

"Got it," Tyler replies, climbing into the front while Ethan settles in with me.

"All right, Goldilocks," Ethan remarks, giving me a knowing look that confirms he overheard my bear comment, "let's get you ready for the doc. We're heading to Mystic Medicine."

The hospital name brings images of state-of-the-art facilities and bustling corridors to mind. Not to mention that Mystic Medicine is a spiritkin run hospital. "Wouldn't having one human and one supe medic be easier?" I ask, seeking distraction and feeling oddly comforted by his rumbling voice.

"Tried that," he replies, his focus on the task at hand. "One guy got bit." He presses gauze to my wound, and I wince at the sharp pain.

"No," I gasp, fighting the discomfort. "Don't like that."

"I knew an Ava once," he says, perhaps to distract me. His hands are steady as he works, his focus unwavering. "Cute little girl with pigtails. Nosy and confident."

"What happened to her?" I ask, nausea building within me.

"ETA, Ty!" Ethan calls out.

"Two minutes," Tyler responds from the front.

"Don't know," Ethan replies, keeping me focused on him. "This is going to sting."

The pain that follows is intense, like a fiery brand searing through my leg. "Cut it off!" I yell in desperation.

"I plan to save this leg, Tempest," Ethan assures me, his tone firm yet caring.

"Here," Tyler announces from the front.

"Good," I say, a wave of relief washing over me. This entire trip has been surreal, and my impromptu confession about cuffing season now seems like just another oddity in a night full of them.

As the ambulance slows, I'm left with a sinking feeling that my leg might be in worse shape than they are letting on, but for now, I'm just along for the ride, trying to keep my spirits up.