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Kelsey
Kelsey sobbed as she approached JT's fallen form. She had seen his red bike from down the road, its toppled form called to her like a siren on a fire truck. Her hands shook as she crouched over him. Blood mixed with dirt on his knees and lower legs. His hands were bloodied and dirty. Why was there so much dirt and blood? She couldn’t see past it. She’d heard of this happening to other first responders - the inability to focus on care due to worry when a loved one needed attention.
“Josiah? Are you okay? Oh, my gosh. I need to call an ambulance.”
Guilt overwhelmed her. She ran back to the car and reached in for napkins, tissues, or anything useful only to come up with some moist towelettes.
“Kelsey.” JT’s grunt carried on the soft air. “Pick up the bike?”
She spun, staring at him and his bike in disbelief. “The bike? You’re worried about the bike?”
There was the trait she’d searched for. The one that her ex had that made him choose money for his toys over her. He even stole from her. She didn’t face reality until he’d taken every cent from her grandmother’s savings account.
“If someone drives down here, they might get in an accident.” His breath came in spurts, but he spoke clear enough. He held a hand to his side and glanced up and down the road. He wasn’t worried about the bike. He was worried about other people.
Everything she’d assumed about him rushed out the door, replaced by guilt once again. She must have pushed him too hard. He thought he was strong enough to attempt riding. She approached the bike with her bottom lip between her teeth. The bulk of it was large and she struggled to lift it with the handles from the ground. Squatting to put her legs into it, she finally righted the bike that didn’t look too worse for wear. The side of the road would have to be good enough.
“Do you want me to lean it against a tree or something?” she asked.
The closest thing that was big enough was a sign post. She wouldn’t be able to push the machine over the ditch or the bumps to get to the big tree.
“That’s fine. Thank you.” He didn’t try to stand alone. Instead, he waited for her, as if he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything without her.
Resting the handle on the metal post of the stop sign, Kelsey turned slowly. How would she ever apologize for her part? She needed to get JT off the ground first and get him home. Once there, she could wallow in her blame. Until then, she had a job to do.
She crouched beside him. “Are you hurt? Can you move?” His grimace spoke volumes, but she didn’t know if it was in reference to his pain or ability to move. Either way, it wasn’t looking good. “I can call an ambulance, if you want one.”
He softly shook his head and finally trained his pain-filled gaze on her. “No. I just want to go home. Can you help me up? Please.” JT ended on a whisper.
Kelsey didn’t mention the flush to his cheeks. He was embarrassed enough. She didn’t need to bring anything up because she wanted to avoid her part in it for as long as she could. Getting JT to the car wasn’t as hard as she expected. Shame worked as a good adrenaline boost, and he limped to the passenger side with Kelsey to lean on.
He didn’t speak as they drove the short distance to his home. “I’ll text Blake to grab my bike.” His voice was low, barely breaking the tense silence. He didn’t outright admit that he’d gone against Kelsey’s directions, but... he didn’t need to.
Kelsey didn’t feel like acknowledging him, at the moment. She wasn’t mad at him. She’d convinced him that he was stronger than he was and that his injuries weren’t as bad as they really were. The Superman Syndrome could be adjusted to fit any circumstance, apparently.
She quietly parked the car and rushed inside to retrieve his crutches. It was impossible for her to carry him and they didn’t have a wheelchair. Handing the aids over, she smiled softly and stood by while he maneuvered himself to a standing position. After he crutched himself toward the house, Kelsey watched him go, closing the door after a moment.
Dried blood caked the back of his calf and Kelsey didn’t envy him the wound cleaning she was about to perform. She followed him inside and gathered her first aid items from downstairs. Her bright orange first responder bag easily spanned two-and-a-half feet in width with a depth of eighteen inches. She had more supplies than most mobile clinics inside.
Her grandmother snoozed softly on the recliner while her nurse worked on a word search, smiling when Kelsey waved before heading upstairs again. Once by his side, Kelsey passed JT to get into the living room. He just stood in the hallway, obviously fatigued and unsure what to do. Afternoon light created stark contrast between his pale skin and the blood and abrasions.
Guilt panged her once again. How would he ever know she cared when she wasn’t careful with him?
“Can you get up here? It would make it easier...” Kelsey patted the couch in the living room. She didn’t want to pressure him any further, but she did need to get the wounds properly cleaned. She spread out some towels on the ground at the bottom of the couch and more along the leather of the cushions to protect the material and carpet.
JT grunted as he forced himself to move into the house and then lower his body to the soft cushions. He leaned back, closing his eyes and sighing.
She failed him. He most likely wouldn’t make the deadline and he’d lose everything. His sponsors, his future in freestyle, racing in the Des Nations... all of it.
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back as best she could, but they proved too strong. She gave in, letting the hot moisture drag down her cheeks. She sniffed, wishing he would say something, but glad when he didn’t. What would he say? Even she couldn’t find the words to speak because she didn’t know what to say.
