Trying to convince myself that it’s true, I turn to walk back into the house. I left this morning to go to Little Hope for more booze, a necessity for the storm, but ran into this old guy at the grocery store. Everyone knows he has dementia, but I find him extremely intelligent on a different level than anyone else. So, I took him to dinner at Marina’s place and asked her to call his son to come pick him up as we were chatting. When his son showed up, we ended up chatting even longer, and that’s how I found myself home later than I anticipated.
When I saw her car parked by my new house, I knew trouble was waiting. Ever since I met her, she brings nothing but disturbance to my brain and weird aches to my chest. This was no exception. The moment I saw the car, the dull pain started in the middle of my chest and moved to my stomach. And then she added a literal fuckin’ bruise to the bunch.
On cue, my shoulder reminds me of the pain with a dull throb, and I rub it. Shaking my head, I remember how vicious she was when she attacked me and how fucking hard I got in an instant.
And how embarrassed.
I touch the doorknob when I hear a horrible sound I’ve heard before—metal hitting something hard. Most likely a tree.
And my blood runs cold. I whip around but don’t see anything. The driveway is long and curves a few times on the way.
Fuck.
I sprint to the back of the house where I have a snowmobile covered with protective gear. I keep the keys in the ignition because I honestly don’t expect visitors here—I doubt anyone but bears will go so far into these woods.
It starts on the first try, saving me from beating the shit out of it with my fist in rage, and I drive toward where the sound came from, dreading what I might find. Squeezing everything this snowmobile can give, I reach her car in a minute, wrapped around a tree. Smoke is coming from under the hood.
I stop on the road and run to the car, attempting to rip open the drivers-side door. Thank God most of the damage is on the passenger side. I try the handle, but it’s locked, so I knock on the window.
“Leila. Leila!”
But she doesn’t hear me. Her head is hanging to the right, and she doesn’t move. I don’t think anymore. I can’t. Instead, I smash the window with my fist, hoping the flying glass won’t hurt her. Then I unlock the door from the inside and open it with a screech.
“Leila,” I breathe out. “Are you okay?”
Of course, she is not okay, you moron. She’s not responsive.
I bring my shaking fingers to her neck and let out a loud sigh of relief when I find a pulse.
“Thank God,” I mumble and start inspecting her arms and torso under her coat for damage.
When I touch her ribs, she lets out a groan and opens her eyes.
“What—” She stops midsentence and looks around. “Oh fuck. That’s embarrassing.”
I let out a loud chuckle while continuing to check her for injuries. “What is?”
“Getting hit by a standing tree while driving twenty-five miles an hour.”
“It’s not.” I wink when she looks at me with a doubtful look. “Alright, maybe a little.”
I touch her ribs again, and she mumbles, “Ouch.”
“Might be broken.”
“Nah, I think it’s just a bruise from the seatbelt.” She wiggles her body a little and winces, “Yeah, just a bruise.”
“Okay. Can you get out yourself, or do you need help?”Please tell me you don’t. Please tell me you are okay.
“I’m good.” Her next wince makes me wince too as if I’m feeling her pain myself. Such a weird sensation. “Actually, I think I might need your help.” Her big eyes shift their attention to my face, and something inside me breaks.
I lean over her and unbuckle the seatbelt. Then I place one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and carefully pull her out of the car.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “I didn’t mean like…you know, carrying me. I meant like to give me your hand or something,” she mumbles but still clutches her arms around my neck.
“It’s not a problem. Better be safe than sorry.”
“I’m okay, really,” she argues weakly.
