Drew’s eyes flickered open like dawn breaking over the horizon, sparking a collective breath of relief. Paramedics stabilized him and brought him inside, placing him gently on the couch. He refused the hospital, asking only for his parents. Despite our protests, he remained adamant.
“Can we get your parents’ contact information, please?” one paramedic asked.
Rhys nodded, concern clouding his eyes. He recited the number like each digit betrayed Drew’s privacy. Their hushed conversation stretched endlessly. We exchanged tense glances, spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, your son experienced a loss of consciousness… He’s stable, but refused transport.”
When they hung up, the paramedics offered sympathy. “His parents are on their way.”
Melissa’s eyes welled with tea
