Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I’m not great at seeing people in horrible pain, either.
Poor Clover. I can tell Jessica is trying to make her comfortable while we wait for the ambulance, but my girl looks haunted by agony.
Haunted and distant in a way that worries me…
Evidently, Jessica is worried, too. “Can we get another towel or a blanket?” she asks with a calm urgency that has the small crowd gathered around us scrambling to comply. “And something to prop up her feet?”
As soon as someone appears with a spare booster seat, she guides Clover’s good heel onto it, then covers her with a straw-covered blanket another Good Samaritan grabbed from the back of his truck.
“Smells like horses,” Clover murmurs.
Jessica smiles. “Yeah, looks like a saddle blanket. A little scratchy, but we need to keep you warm. We don’t want you to go into shock. Not when the ambulance is almost here.”
Her words make my ears perk up, sending relief rushing through my wobbly bones as I realize she’s right.
The sirens are getting closer now. Much closer.
“My leg is bad, isn’t it?” Clover whispers. “And my arm?”
Jessica nods, but her voice is relentlessly upbeat as she adds, “Yeah, but I’ve seen way worse. You’re going to be fine. The doctors will have you patched up and on the mend in no time. Now, tell me about your friend here. Is she always a badass who has your back?”
Clover’s lips twitch as she glances my way. “Yeah. For sure. And she barely makes me pay any rent. It’s scandalous. How little rent I pay.”
Tears stinging into my eyes again, I shrug. “Yeah, well, you’re just a baby. Can’t make a baby pay as much rent as a grown woman.”
Jessica laughs. “How old are you, Clover?”
“Twenty-three,” Clover says, some of the color returning to her cheeks. “It’s just a joke. I’m not really a baby.”
“Sounds like a baby to me.” Jessica brushes her curls gently from her forehead. “My daughter is twenty-two.”
“Mine, too,” the lawyer says, his voice warmer than before. “Twenty-two and still very much a baby. Or, my baby, at least.”
Jessica glances our way, seeming to notice Heroic Lawyer for the first time. I glance his way to see that he also seems to be noticing Heroic Nurse.
Well, well…
Maybe something good will come out of this horrible morning, after all.
“This is…” I glance at the card in my pocket. “Benjamin Davies. He filmed the hit-and-run driver. And this is Jessica…”
“Vorhees,” she says. “Like the—”
“Horror movie,” Benjamin supplies.
They share a chuckle, and I wink at Clover, whose lips twitch. She gives a small nod, clearly approving of my matchmaking efforts at the edge of her sickbed of beach towels and horse blankets.
But Clover is a romantic, no matter how hard she tries to keep things casual in her own love life.
Which reminds me… “Should I call that guy you’re dating, Clover?” I ask. “Asthma guy who doesn’t like to drive at night?” I raise my voice to be heard over the rapidly approaching sirens. “Let him know you’re in the hospital?”
Clover’s nose twitches. “No, but can you ask someone to get my purse and my phone from the car if it’s safe? And bring it to the hospital for me? I need to text my dad. We were supposed to talk this afternoon. He’ll be worried.”
I nod. “Will do. I’ll text him, too.” I’m practically shouting as I add, “As soon as I have my phone.”
The ambulance pulls up, lights flashing, and two EMTs jump out with a stretcher and bags full of equipment. The first EMT—a woman with short gray hair—consults with Jessica as she kneels beside Clover.
Jessica rattles off a list of facts in her calm nurse’s voice, all while patting the back of Clover’s good hand. “Driver, twenty-three, involved in a side-impact collision. Obvious left leg fracture, possible hip fracture, left forearm fracture, and a laceration to her left cheek. She’s been conscious the whole time, but showing some signs of shock. Her friend here—” she gestures to me, “is in her third trimester, I believe, and was in the passenger seat. She helped pull our injured driver out before the fire spread in the car.”
The EMT’s eyes snap to me. “Any pain? Cramping? Bleeding?”
I shake my head as I lift my hands in the air. “No, no, I’m fine. Completely fine.” I drop a hand to my belly. “The baby, too. She’s been kicking and moving just fine. Please just concentrate on Clover, she’s the one who’s hurt.”
“We’ll need to check you out,” the other EMT, a younger man with a tiny squiggle moustache, insists. “Make sure that everything is—”
“Please,” I cut in, motioning urgently toward Clover. “She’s in horrible pain, and I’m really worried about her right now. I swear, I’m fine. Please, just take care of my friend.”
He looks ready to argue, but the female EMT thankfully cuts him off with a smooth, “Okay. Well, then, let’s get Clover loaded up and on her way to the help she needs. Our unit is too small for a rider, but there’s another unit on the way not far behind us. They can transport you, Miss…”