“Mrs. Emory has called your parents. They’re on the way to come get him so I can take you to the hospital.”
“I need to see him.”
“Okay, this way.” He doesn’t let go of my hand; his palm is warm and dry against mine, keeping me upright as I wobble on shaky legs.
I’m still three or four feet from the front door of the school when Aiden barrels through it at a dead sprint, arms wide, tears running down his cheeks. “Mama!”
I get down to my knees, and let Aiden slam into me for a hug. “Whoa, careful, bud.”
“The car hit you and Coach pulled me back and I thought you were—I thought—” He’s sniffling, sobbing, close to hyperventilating.
“I’m okay, honey. I’m fine.” I wipe his cheeks and cup them. “Look at me, honey. Not a scratch on me. I’m shaken up and my neck hurts, so I’m gonna have a doctor look at me to be sure. You’re going to go with Grandma and Papa, okay?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m going with you.”
I smile, and hug him. “Aiden, baby. Do you remember how long it took at the hospital when you hurt your ankle?”
He nods, sighing—I can see the resignation in his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I promise you I’mokay. I’m not injured. I’m barely even hurt. It was scary, but I’m okay. I just need to see the doctor to be absolutely sure.” I hug him again. “I want you to be with me too, buddy, but there will be a lot of hospital time, and you’ll get bored. Go with Grandma and Papa. Have some dinner, watch a show, build something with Papa in the barn, and I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”
“All right.” He frowns at me. “You’re not just being tough because you don’t want me to be scared or worried?”
I laugh. “I won’t lie to you, Aiden—I’m pretty shaken up. It was scary as heck, and I have a headache and my neck hurts. But that’s all minor stuff. Remember what you told me about the difference between hurt and injured?”
He nods. “Yeah.” He glances at Jamie. “Coach told me that.”
“Right. So, buddy, again, look at me: I’m a little hurt, but I’m not injured. Have I ever lied to you?”
He shrugs. “Not that I know of.”
I laugh. “Not that you know of, because I’ve never lied to you, and I never will. And I’m not just being tough. But I don’t want you to be scared or worried because I’mokay.I just have to get checked out to be a hundred percent sure.”
“Okay, Mama.” I hug him again, and then I hear the telltale rattle of Dad’s ancient Chevy pickup as it enters the pickup/drop-off circle.
Dad hops out, and while his expression is neutral, I know him well enough to know he’s worried. “You all right, kiddo?” His voice is low, gruff, and angry.
“I’m fine, Dad.” I stand up and hug him. “Whiplash and a headache.”
He glances at Jamie. “You’re taking her in?”
Jamie nods. “Yes, sir. Right now. Or as soon as I can get her into my truck.”
“Good luck with that,” Dad huffs. “She’s as stubborn as they come.”
“Dad!” I snap.
He shrugs. “You are. Just like your mama.”
“Mama’s not stubborn,” Aiden says. “She just knows what she wants.”
Dad laughs at that. “Well, I can’t say you’re wrong there, pal.” He claps Aiden on the shoulder. “Well, buddy, I’ve got a carburetor needs fixing so my ol’ tractor will work, and I need your help.”
“What’s a carburetor? Is it like carbohydrolates?”
I laugh. “Carbohydrates, bud.”
“Yeah, that,” Aiden says.
