Chapter 11 When Everything Starts Falling Apart
Harper's Pov,
"The pills..." His eyes were losing focus.
"In my jacket. Need–"
"No." I held his face, making him look at me. "No more pills. We're getting you real help. Okay? Real help."
"Gonna lose everything."
"You're not losing me." Tears were streaming down my face now. "You hear me? You're not losing me."
His eyes closed.
"Crew!" I shook him gently. "Crew, open your eyes!"
Someone pushed through the crowd and I looked up to see Maya, her face white with shock.
"Ambulance is two minutes out," she said, dropping down beside us. "Harper, what happened?"
"He collapsed. I think…" My voice broke.
"I think he took too many pills."
"Jesus Christ!" Maya pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.
"I'm calling Marcus. And the team doctor."
"Maya, his career–"
"His career doesn't matter if he's DEAD, Harper!" She grabbed my shoulder, her eyes fierce.
"We're getting him help. Real help. Right now."
I knew she was right. But the thought of what this meant, what would happen when everyone found out…
"Make room! Paramedics coming through!"
The crowd parted and two EMTs rushed in with a stretcher and equipment bags. A woman in her forties with kind eyes knelt down across from me.
"What's his name?" she asked, already checking his pulse.
"Crew. Crew Lawson."
"How long has he been unconscious?"
"I don't know. Maybe a minute? Two?" Time felt strange, stretched out and compressed at once.
"Any medical conditions we should know about?"
I hesitated for half a second, then made the choice that would change everything.
"He's been taking oxycodone. A lot of it. For his chronic pain. I think he might have overdosed."
The paramedic's expression shifted, and became more urgent. "How much did he take?"
"I don't know. I didn't see him take anything tonight but–" My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto him.
"He's been using it for years. His tolerance is high. And I don't know how close he is to–"
I couldn't finish the sentence.
But the words clawed its way up anyway.
“... dying.” I finally managed. “I don't know how close he is to dying.”
"Okay, we've got him." The second paramedic, a younger guy with a shaved head, was already setting up an IV.
"Miss, we need you to step back so we can work."
"No." I held Crew tighter. "I'm not leaving him."
"Harper." Maya's hand on my arm, gentle but firm. "Let them help him."
"I can't…"
"Yes you can." She pulled me back carefully as the paramedics moved in, their hands quick and efficient. "You have to let them do their job."
I watched them work, feeling useless and terrified. They checked his pupils with a flashlight, started the IV, and put an oxygen mask over his face.
Every second felt like an hour.
"BP’s low. Pulse is thready." The female paramedic rattled off numbers I didn't understand. "Pupils are pinpoint. Respiratory depression. We need to push Narcan."
"Narcan?" I grabbed Maya's hand. "What's Narcan?"
"It reverses opioid overdoses." Her voice was steady but her hand was shaking in mine. "It'll help him breathe."
The male paramedic pulled out a small vial and a syringe, drawing up clear liquid with practiced efficiency. "Administering two milligrams intranasal."
He sprayed something up Crew's nose and then we waited.
But nothing happened.
Crew lay there, still and pale, the oxygen mask fogging slightly with each shallow breath but otherwise motionless.
"Come on," the female paramedic muttered. "Come on, come on."
Still nothing.
"Preparing second dose." The male paramedic was already drawing up another syringe.
My heart was trying to punch through my ribs. "Why isn't it working?"
"His tolerance might be too high." The female paramedic kept her eyes on Crew.
"Or he's taken something else in addition to the oxy. We'll keep trying."
They administered the second dose.
This time, Crew's body jerked. His eyes flew open and he gasped behind the oxygen mask, his hand coming up to claw at it.
"Easy, easy!" The female paramedic held his shoulders down. "You're okay. Just breathe. Nice and slow."
"Harper?" Crew's voice came out muffled and confused behind the mask. His eyes found mine across the paramedics and they were unfocused, pupils blown wide.
"W-what happened?"
"You collapsed." I tried to get closer but Maya held me back. "Just stay still, okay? They're helping you."
"We need to transport him now." The male paramedic was already collapsing the stretcher to ground level. "Which one of you is coming with us?"
"I am," I said before Maya could answer.
"Harper, maybe I should–"
"I'm going." I looked at her, and whatever she saw in my face made her nod.
"Okay. I'll meet you at the hospital. I need to handle…" She gestured at the crowd, the phones, the catastrophe we were leaving behind. "Well, all of this."
They were lifting Crew onto the stretcher now, strapping him down. He was trying to say something behind the oxygen mask, his hand reaching for me.
I grabbed it and held on tight. "I'm right here my love. I'm not going anywhere."
His fingers squeezed mine weakly and I saw tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
"Miss, we need to move." The female paramedic was already pushing the stretcher toward the exit. "Stay close and don't let go of the rails."
We rushed through the ballroom and I was dimly aware of people jumping out of the way, of camera flashes going off like strobe lights, of voices shouting questions I couldn't process. All I could focus on was Crew's hand in mine and the terrible fear that I was going to lose him.
We burst through the doors into the cool night air and there was the ambulance, back doors open, lights flashing red and blue across the parking lot.
"One, two, three!" They lifted the stretcher up and into the ambulance in one smooth motion. I climbed in after them, squeezing into the small space near Crew's head.
The doors slammed shut and we were moving, siren wailing, and suddenly it was just us and the two paramedics in this small metal box racing through Seattle streets.
"BP is stabilizing." The male paramedic was taking vitals again. "Respiratory rate, improving. Good response to the Narcan."
"We're not out of the woods yet." The female paramedic started a second IV line.
"We don't know what else he might have taken or how much. Seattle General is seven minutes out."
Seven minutes.
Seven minutes to the hospital where doctors would ask questions and demand answers and Crew's entire life would implode.
"Harper." His voice was stronger now, clearer. He pulled the oxygen mask down despite the paramedic's protest. "Harper, I'm sorry."
"Don't." Tears were streaming down my face. "Don't apologize. Just focus on breathing."
"I messed everything up."
"Crew–"
"You should've let me…" He coughed, the sound wet and painful. "Should've just left me on that floor."
"Are you insane? The hell are you saying?" I grabbed his face, making him look at me.
"I love you. Do you understand? I LOVE you. So you don't get to give up.”
Crew's hand came up to cover mine, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "I love you too," he whispered.
"That's why I'm sorry. Because you deserve so much better than this."
“No Crew, I deserve YOU." I leaned down, pressing my forehead to his. "Just you. Alive. Everything else we can figure out."
"They're going to kick me off the team."
"Maybe."
"My career is over."
"Maybe." I pulled back to look at him. "But you'll still be alive. And we'll still have each other. That has to be enough."
"What if it's not?"
"Then we'll figure that out too." I kissed his forehead gently. "But first you have to live through tonight. Can you do that for me?"
He closed his eyes, fresh tears sliding down his temples. "I'll try."
"That's all I'm asking."
The ambulance swung around a corner, throwing me against the wall. The male paramedic steadied me with one hand while keeping his other on Crew's IV.
"Almost there," he said. "Two more minutes."
Two more minutes before the hospital.
Before the questions, the tests, and the moment where everything became public and irreversible.
I held Crew's hand tighter and watched his chest rise and fall under the oxygen mask they'd replaced, each breath a small victory.
The most important thing is; he's alive.
Everything else could wait.
The ambulance screeched to a stop and the back doors flew open. Suddenly there were people everywhere, more paramedics and nurses in scrubs, all of them moving with urgent efficiency.
"Twenty-nine-year-old male, suspected opioid overdose."
They were pulling the stretcher out, rattling off information I couldn't process. I tried to follow but a nurse held me back.
"You can't come into the trauma bay. You'll have to wait in–"
"I'm not leaving him!" I pulled against her grip, watching them wheel Crew through automatic doors.
"Harper!" His voice cut through the chaos. "Harper!"
"I'm here!" I called back. "I'm right here!"
"Miss, please." The nurse was physically holding me back now.
"They need room to work. The best thing you can do for him right now is let the doctors help him, okay?”
"Harper, don't leave me!" Crew was trying to sit up, fighting against the straps. "Please don't–"
"I'M NOT LEAVING!" I screamed, as my voice cracked halfway through. "I'm not going anywhere!"
But the doors had already swung shut between us.
I stood there in the bright fluorescent lights of the emergency room entrance, still in my green dress, mascara probably running down my face, and felt my entire world collapse.
Somewhere behind me, my phone was ringing.
Again…. And again…. And again.
I pulled it out with shaking hands and saw the screen flooded with notifications. Text messages. Missed calls. Social media alerts.
At the top, a news headline from some gossip site:
BREAKING: Titans Star Crew Lawson Collapses at Charity Gala - Suspected Drug Overdose
Below it, a video.
Someone had already posted a video of Crew falling, me cradling his head in my lap as the paramedics rushed in.
It was posted seven minutes ago. But it already got two million views.
My phone rang again. Joel's name on the screen.
I turned it off and shoved it in my clutch.
Then I sank down into one of those terrible plastic waiting room chairs and put my head in my hands and cried.