Chapter 13

Driving to Zac's clinic from the studio was quicker than walking. Tension filled the cab of the vehicle as Harper prepared herself for what lay ahead, for the injuries they could face when they arrived at the accident.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, drawing on her years of experience to steady her nerves. Owen was quiet. She looked across at him and sighed. "I appreciate you taking me to help Zac."

He sent her a reassuring smile. "If it's okay with you and Zac, I'd like to come with you. You might need another pair of hands."

Harper didn't expect him to do that. "Are you sure?"

"It's better than being at the studio and worrying about you."

She appreciated his support, but that didn't make her less worried about his PTSD. "If it gets too much, sit somewhere that's away from the accident. I'll find you before we leave."

Reaching out, Owen squeezed her hand. "I'll be okay. I've done enough first-aid training to know what to do."

As soon as they arrived at the clinic, Harper jumped out of the truck. Zac was waiting for them, his face grim. "Owen's offered to come with us."

Zac breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Owen. I've already put the extra supplies and equipment we might need in my truck."

Without wasting a moment, they climbed into Zac's truck and drove toward the edge of town.

Harper's breath caught when she saw the shuttle bus. It lay awkwardly against a tree, its side crumpled, windows shattered. Six passengers had managed to get out of the vehicle, their expressions a mix of shock and pain. She didn't know how many were trapped inside, but their moans of distress cut through the evening air.

Zac was immediately in doctor mode, his voice calm but authoritative as he opened the truck's tailgate and pulled out a medical bag. "Harper, can you come with me? We'll assess the people in the shuttle bus. Owen, can you make the people on the side of the road as comfortable as possible? Take the first aid kits and the defibrillator with you, and make sure you put on a pair of gloves. If they get caught on anything, sanitize your hands before putting on another pair. Harper will be back as soon as we've stabilized the people in the bus."

As Owen reached in to retrieve the medical supplies, Harper grabbed a kit and followed Zac.

Her heart raced as she stepped over broken glass and twisted metal. Inside the bus, the scene was even more dire. The trapped passengers were in varying states of consciousness, their injuries more severe than she'd imagined.

The driver was pinned to his seat by the steering wheel and was unconscious. While Zac tried to stabilize him, Harper moved to the other side of the vehicle. The woman in the front passenger seat had taken the worst of the impact. Her legs were crushed and she had severe abdominal pain. The teenager sitting directly behind her couldn't move or feel her legs.

"I'll ask Owen to help us," Harper told Zac.

As soon as he arrived, Owen put a cervical collar on the teenager and applied pressure bandages to the worst of her injuries. His quiet, reassuring voice helped Harper as much as it did the young girl.

Zac pulled an oxygen mask over the driver's head. "How are the other patients, Owen?"

"They're doing okay. All six have cuts from broken glass or hitting their heads on the side of the bus. I left some bandages and foil blankets with them. They're able to help each other until I get back."

Zac nodded. "That's great. How are you both feeling?"

Harper opened the medical kit and pulled out a stethoscope. "I'm better than I thought." She glanced at Owen.

"I'm doing okay," he told them. "What do you need next?"

Zac glanced at Owen. "Get me a tourniquet fast. There's one in the medical kit beside me."

With Owen leaving the bus to help Zac, Harper's hands moved with a precision born of necessity.

She channeled her earlier distress into making sure the woman she was looking after could breathe and lost as little blood as possible. As she worked, she avoided looking at the metal entombing them. The woman she was trying to comfort had enough chaos around her without Harper adding to her stress.

As they worked, Owen kept the emergency services team updated with what was happening. When he could, he made sure everyone outside the bus was as comfortable as possible.

Harper breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of sirens wailing toward them. They hadn't been here long, but it felt like a lifetime.

As soon as the firefighters and paramedics arrived, Zac left the mangled wreck to tell them about each patient, and what they'd done to help them. Harper glanced across at him, feeling a mix of admiration and exhaustion. This was the part of being a trauma nurse she remembered all too well—the aftermath, when the adrenaline faded and reality set in.

When the firefighters were ready to cut the driver and the front passenger out of the bus, Harper and Owen left them to do their work.

Owen's face was pale but composed. He caught Harper's eye and sent her a relieved smile. Despite their PTSD, they'd helped everyone involved in the accident.

With the flashing lights and the sound of crunching metal surrounding them, a wave of panic threatened to overwhelm Harper. The intensity of the situation, the memories it stirred of her time in New York, and the stark reminder of the fragility of life, hit her all at once.

Owen must have noticed her distress. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I feel the same way. Let's wait by Zac's truck."

When they got there, Harper leaned forward. With her hands resting on her knees, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "I just need a minute."

"Take all the time you need," Owen assured her.

Harper nodded, grateful he was here with her. Slowly, she straightened and felt slightly better. The sound of the emergency services working in the background became a distant buzz. Being farther away from the accident made it easier to push it to the back of her mind.

Owen held her cold hand in his. "You did great."

"So did you. How are you feeling?"

"A little overwhelmed," he replied. "But I'm glad I could help."

The doors to one of the ambulances closed and the driver hurried around the vehicle. "I don't know how to switch off," she confessed, a vulnerable admission that she'd rarely voiced aloud. "Even after all the years I was nursing, I haven't worked out how to separate my personal life from situations like this."

Owen gently squeezed her shoulder. "You don't have to switch off, not completely. It's part of who you are and what makes you special."

Harper's eyes filled with tears. How could anyone feel overwhelmed with someone like Owen in their lives? "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be better once we leave. The breathing exercises Pastor John showed me are helping."

Harper sent him a weak smile. "I should come to more meetings."

Before Owen could reply, Zac joined them. "You both made an enormous difference today. If you weren't here, we could have lost at least one of the passengers."

Harper leaned into Owen. "You did great, too, Zac. I hope everyone will be okay."

They stood together in silence, watching the last ambulance leave, and the rescue helicopter take the patients with the most serious injuries to the nearest trauma center. For Harper, it was a stark reminder of why she'd become a nurse—and why she'd left.

As they prepared to drive back to town, she was already thinking about the days ahead. For the patients and their families, there'd be follow-up appointments with doctors, recovery stories, perhaps even a hard goodbye. But, for now, she was grateful to have been here to help, and for Owen and Zac's support.

With unsteady handson the steering wheel, Owen drove down the quiet streets of Sapphire Bay. Dropping Harper off at her granddad's had been harder than he'd thought. He wanted to spend time with her, de-stress from what they'd seen and heard. But, as much as that would have helped him, she needed to be with Benjamin.

Unlike Harper, he wasn't ready to see his family. Instead of going to a restaurant, his mom had cooked dinner for everyone. Daniella's fiancé would be at his parents' house, along with a few other friends they'd invited.

He couldn't think of anything worse than trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. So, instead of going home for dinner, he was on his way to Steve's house.

Steve's tiny home, nestled on the edge of the tiny home village, gave Owen a sense of peace, even when he'd battled depression and intense periods of loneliness. He didn't know if it was because the house was small, or because it was part of a project that protected the most vulnerable people in the community.

The tiny home village continued to be one of the church's major projects. The first few homes were built as part of a trial to see if they'd make a difference to people who suffered from chronic homelessness. The resounding success of the wraparound support system had encouraged Pastor John to expand the project until there were more than twenty-five homes. Each of the houses gave the residents something they'd never had—a warm, safe, and permanent place to call home.

Owen knocked on Steve's door. His friend answered almost immediately, his expression turning from surprise to concern.

"Hi, Owen. What's up?" Steve asked as he moved aside to let Owen in.

Owen stepped into the cozy interior, the warmth enveloping him like a welcome hug. Taking a deep breath, he searched for the right words. "There was an accident," he began, his voice steadier than he felt. "A shuttle bus ran off the road. Harper and I went with Zac to help."

Steve frowned as he motioned for Owen to sit down. "Was it bad?"

Taking a seat on a chair, Owen held onto the worn fabric arms to stop his hands from shaking. "No one died, but it wasn't good. Two people were trapped in the bus and a teenager had serious injuries. Six other people had to be taken to the hospital in Polson. Harper and Zac were incredible, but…" He trailed off, the images flooding back.

Steve sat opposite him. "But what? Talk to me."

"I had a hard time separating what happened today with the shooting." Owen hesitated, struggling to put his feelings into words. "When the fire department arrived, their flashing lights took me right back to the day my partner died."

Steve leaned forward, his eyes locked on Owen's. "It's normal to feel that way."

Owen felt the weight of the day press down on him. "That's what I keep telling myself, but it was more than a normal reaction. Nothing's triggered my PTSD for a long time. I thought I was getting better, but it's still there."

"You were able to help in a situation that a lot of people would have struggled with."

"I guess, but it was a close call. Every siren and every shout was like being back at the mall." Owen's voice was barely above a whisper now, the memories threatening to consume him.

Steve was silent for a moment. "You've come a long way since you left Detroit. You could've stayed behind when Harper and Zac drove to the accident, but you wanted to help."

He considered Steve's words. "I didn't want to let Harper down. She's dealing with her own issues from working in the hospital."

"You're still going through a lot, too."

Owen ran his hand around the back of his neck. "I don't want her to worry about me."

Steve frowned. "You worry about someone because you care about them."

Closing his eyes, Owen took a deep breath. Harper meant the world to him. It had been so long since anyone apart from his family and friends had been that close to him and it felt strange. "I guess I'd better get used to being in a relationship."

Steve smiled. "Considering Harper's your girlfriend, I'd say that's something you'll want to focus on. Where is Harper, anyway? I thought she'd be with you."

"She had to go home to look after Benjamin."

Standing upright, Steve headed over to the compact kitchen. "Talking about being looked after, can I get you a hot drink? I bought a special blend of coffee from the general store yesterday."

"I won't say no," Owen told him. "Did you get the email about the church's pet adoption day?"

"I did. I thought I'd see if there are any dogs available."

Owen looked around the cluttered interior of the tiny home. "This place is too small for a dog."

Steve grinned. "Plenty of people in the village have small dogs. I could adopt a Chihuahua."

For the first time since he'd left the accident, Owen laughed. Steve was almost six foot four. A Chihuahua would barely reach his ankles. "I'd love to see you taking it for a walk."

"I'm an equal opportunities kind of guy," Steve said with a gleam in his eyes. "Even little dogs need someone to love them."

Owen couldn't argue with that. As they talked about what was happening in Sapphire Bay, a sense of calm settled on him. If tonight had taught him anything, it was that he was able to do more than he thought he could.

And thanks to Harper and Zac, it was more than he'd done in a long time.