Page 29 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)
We arrived within moments at an accident scene that looked like a war zone.
Emergency vehicles lined both sides of the highway, their lights painting the rain and smoke in shifting reds and blues.
Steam rose from the wreckage of what had been a sedan, now upside down and accordioned against the concrete barrier.
There were three other vehicles turned at bad angles and dented, doors hanging open but with now empty seats.
My throat tightened when I realized how bad it was. Tommy went very still beside me, and I saw his hands clench in his lap.
“Jesus,” he whispered, staring at the wreckage. For a moment, the professional mask slipped, and I saw the terrified brother again. “That’s Hazel’s car.”
I pulled up behind the fire truck and immediately noticed what was missing—no law enforcement vehicles. The scene was being managed entirely by fire and EMS, which explained the slightly chaotic feel to the whole operation.
“Tommy, stop,” I said before he could race out of the truck. “Disposable poncho in your gear bag. Put it on.”
He nodded and shot me a look of gratitude that made my chest ache. “Thanks, Foster.” As he raced away, I saw him pull out the poncho and yank it on.
“Sheriff Blake, Majestic County,” I called out to the guy who seemed to be in charge as I approached the scene, my badge now hanging over a rain slicker. “How can I help?”
“Chief Judd Kincaid, Legacy FD. Unfortunately, lightning strikes have caused all kinds of shit today. We’ve almost got an opening to get her out, but we’ve got our hands full trying to manage extraction and crowd control.
The lookie-loos are going to get themselves killed, and we don’t have enough first responders for that. ”
As I shook hands with him, I watched Tommy move past us toward a very young EMT. “Are you DJ?” he called out over the noise of engines and radios. “I’m Dr. Tommy Marian. ”
The guy sagged in relief. “You made it.”
Tommy nodded, and I watched something settle over him like armor. “Who’s the most critical patient on scene?”
The EMT’s eyebrows shot up so quickly it was almost comical. “Definitely your sister, sir. She’s stable for now, but we’re still having trouble with the extraction. The angle’s all wrong, and?—”
“Show me.”
Before they reached the vehicle, Tommy noticed a young woman with auburn hair and tearstained cheeks sitting in the back of an ambulance with an EMT taking her vitals.
“Avery!” Tommy hustled over and pulled her into a hug. “You still okay?”
The relief on her face was heartbreaking. “Hazel’s been asking for you. They won’t let me?—”
“Just worry about you and the baby. Let these folks take care of you, okay? I’m going to get her out, I promise.
” He gave her one last squeeze of reassurance, and I saw his hands shake slightly as he pulled away.
Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and moved quickly toward the wreckage.
With each minute that passed, he seemed to grow more focused, more certain.
This Dr. Marian was completely in charge and fearless—not the uncertain man from the cave, not even the ultra-capable instructor from SERA.
This was someone who belonged in crisis, who thrived under pressure that would flatten most people.
When a news van tried to pull onto the shoulder for a better view, I intercepted them before they could get close enough to interfere .
“This is an active emergency scene,” I told the reporter firmly. “You need to stay back at least two hundred yards.”
“But we have a right to?—”
“You have a right to report the news from a safe distance that doesn’t interfere with lifesaving operations,” I cut him off. “Move your vehicle, or I’ll have it towed.”
The authority in my voice brooked no argument. Several of my friends back in Majestic were famous or obscenely wealthy. I had more than enough experience keeping the media away from people who deserved privacy.
The van retreated, and I turned my attention back to Tommy, who was now coordinating with what looked like every emergency responder on scene, none of whom looked old enough to vote.
“Jesus Christ,” I heard one of the local EMTs mutter to his partner next to one of the other ambulances where they were treating other victims. “Who does that guy think he is?”
Something hot and protective flared in my chest. “He’s a top-tier trauma doc. If you can claim the same, I’m sure he’d appreciate an assist. Otherwise, get back to your patient.”
Both men turned to stare at me, then back at Tommy, who was now crouched beside the wreckage, talking to someone I couldn’t see.
“Where’d you guys even come from?” the other EMT asked.
“SERA,” I said simply. Everyone knew the program had a stellar reputation for training emergency responders, and chances were, these guys would never have the privilege of being part of it.
Tommy’s reassuring voice as he spoke to Hazel carried over to us. “Hey, beautiful. I know it hurts, but we’re going to get you out of here. Avery’s fine—she’s worried about you, but she and the baby are doing just fine.”
A weak voice responded from inside the car, and I saw Tommy’s shoulders relax slightly.
“I know, I know. But you’re going to be fine, too. Better than fine. You’re going to be terrorizing me again within a week.”
His voice caught slightly on the words—the first crack I’d seen in his professional facade since we’d arrived.
For the next twenty minutes, I found myself divided between managing the scene and watching Tommy work.
He knelt at Hazel’s side, blood on his hands and muddy gravel on his clothes, issuing clipped instructions to the other EMTs while holding pressure on his sister’s wound himself.
When any of the first responders hesitated, Tommy didn’t shout—he explained, voice steady, gaze unflinching, until they moved like a unit.
And through it all, he never let go of his sister’s hand.
I’d seen competence before. I’d worked with plenty of skilled professionals in my years as sheriff. But this was something different. This was watching someone operate at the absolute peak of their abilities, doing exactly what they were meant to do.
The realization hit me like a physical blow: Tommy wasn’t just good at this.
He was extraordinary. This was who he was supposed to be—not stuck next to a sedated patient in an operating room, but here, in the moment of greatest challenge, making impossible decisions and saving lives when everything was falling apart .
“Careful with that leg,” he called out as they maneuvered the stretcher. “The fracture’s unstable. If it shifts…”
I saw him go still for just a moment as Hazel cried out during the transfer, and that crack in his professional armor widened just enough for me to see the terrified brother underneath again. Without thinking, I moved closer and put my hand on his shoulder.
“She’s okay,” I said quietly. “You’ve got this. She ’s got this.”
“Right. Yeah.” He took a deep breath, and I felt some of the tension leave his body under my palm. For just a second, he leaned into the contact, and the weight of him settled into my bones like gravity.
I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more than a life where Tommy Marian chose me to lean on.
The moment passed, and he was back in control, climbing into the ambulance and barking instructions to the driver about which route to take and how fast was safe, given Hazel’s condition.
Avery had already insisted Tommy ride with Hazel instead of her, and I’d offered to bring her to the hospital myself. Not only did I want to help him—help them —but I also wasn’t ready to leave him, to go back to Cabin 8 alone while he was worried about his sister.
“You sure?” Tommy asked before the rear doors closed, glancing over at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper.
“We’ll be right behind you,” I promised. “Call me if you need me, okay? ”
Tommy looked back at me, his face exhausted but grateful. “I don’t have your number.”
“I’ll fix that at the hospital,” I said, and something passed between us… a promise, an acknowledgment of something neither of us was ready to name.
The ambulance pulled away, taking him with it, and I turned to help his very pregnant sister-in-law back to my truck.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, opening the passenger door. “She’s in good hands. The best.”
As we made our way through the traffic behind the ambulance, I couldn’t stop replaying what I’d just witnessed.
The way Tommy had moved with absolute confidence, the way everyone had deferred to his expertise without question.
The gentle authority in his voice when he’d spoken to Hazel, the fierce protectiveness when he’d fought for the best care for her.
He wasn’t made for stillness, or small-town routines, or the quiet, predictable life I’d carved out for myself in Majestic. He was built for this —for running headfirst into other people’s emergencies, for making impossible decisions under pressure, for saving lives when no one else could.
The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of dark mountain roads and the steady taptaptap of Avery texting.
But all I could think about was Tommy’s hands, steady and sure as he’d worked to save his sister.
The way he’d looked at me in that final moment before the ambulance doors closed.
And the terrifying realization that what I felt for him wasn’t going away in a few weeks.
If anything, after tonight, it was only going to get stronger.
Avery dropped her phone on top of her rounded belly and blew out a breath. “I didn’t even ask, how do you know Tommy? You two work together at SERA?”
I glanced over at her, the memory of Hazel’s reaction still fresh in my memory from that first night at Timber.
“I’m the guy in the Made Marian T-shirt. The one from Hawaii.”
And for the first time since that night six long months ago, claiming it made me a little bit proud.