Page 95 of Filthy Player
Not that they were worth much. Jaxon and I had promised her she’d stay safe and wouldn’t get hurt. We both failed her. But there was another day to wallow in guilt, now she needed me to be strong for her.
I held her while she slept, not sleeping a fucking wink well into the middle of the night when a nurse came in to check her vitals.
She glared at me until I climbed out of the bed and settled in the chair next to Paige’s bed. “How is she?”
“Vitals look good,” the nurse said. “We’ll know more in the morning.”
She left the room quietly, and I didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the adrenaline coursing through my system finally evaporating, or the nurse’s reassurance Paige was doing well, but I rested my arms on the bed, dropped my head, and I was asleep as soon as my eyes closed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
PAIGE
I ached everywhere. Every minuscule movement sent shocks of pain rippling through my entire body.
I’d never been in a car accident before last night. I’d never so much as fallen out of a tree, and I wasn’t athletic enough to play sports when I was growing up.
This was the absolute worst pain I could imagine, and even then, I knew I was still, really freaking lucky.
All last night I’d been battered with nightmares. Hannah’s face floated through my visions, screaming at me, and even as I was drifting awake, already knowing Beaux was right next to me because I could sense him anywhere, I still had no clue why she’d done what she did.
What was she thinking?
I couldn’t reconcile the sweet, playful girl I’d worked with for months with the psychotic and shitty racecar driver she’d been last night.
I’d always thought I was a decent judge of character, but damn, I was way off with her.
I shivered as I remembered the last thing she’d yelled at me, and jerked away, my eyes meeting Beaux’s concerned one.
“You okay?”
“I was thinking of Hannah,” I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes and yawning. “How is she?”
A muscle jumped in Beaux’s cheek and his jaw went tight.
“Beaux?”
“We’ll talk about it later. When you’re better.”
I was sore and in pain, but I was damn lucky. Nothing was broken, nothing permanently damaged. The doctor had said I’d been lucky, might have a few scars where my head crashed into the glass, but my hair could hide them. The possible concussion had concerned him the most, which was the reason they admitted me overnight. Otherwise, I could have been sent home.
“I’m fine, Beaux. Tell me.”
He rolled his lips and heaved a breath. “She wasn’t wearing a seat belt, Paige.”
“What?”
It took me a moment, but I slowly understood. I shook my head, trying to shake away the tears already flooding my eyes. The girl had literally tried to kill me. I knew that even if I didn’t want to admit it. And she was obviously sick, needed some help.
“What happened?” I asked when Beaux didn’t say anything further.
“Babe, she didn’t make it.”
He reached for me, grabbed my hand and held it tight. “She went through the windshield and into a tree.”
“She…” I tried to picture her. Laughing. Smiling. Teasing me. She was so young. Had everything in front of her. The world. Sweet parents. I couldn’t see any of that. All I saw were green eyes as she shouted at me. Her manic screams once she got me in the car. “She died?”
Beaux nodded. A shudder rolled through me and I braced myself for the onslaught of emotion, of tears, or pain, or sadness or whatever.