Someone moaned in pain a few feet in front of my car.
I pulled out my phone, ready to call 911 as I sprinted to the front of the car.
As I approached, I recognized the boots—and face—of the person I’d hit.
“Jace?” I asked, confused.
Running anyone over was bad, but I didn’t expect it to be him.
He looked up, wincing in pain at first, then laughing once he realized I was the one who had hit him.
“Good job, sugar. You ran me over.” He laughed before he winced in pain again.
“Are you hurt? Do you need me to call 911?” I asked, looking him over for any signs of broken bones or pooling blood.
“Hold the cavalry. I don’t think I’m going to bleed out. But can you help me up? I think my foot might be broken,” he said as he reached out to me.
Grabbing his hand, I used my body weight to help him up as best I could. Jace was much taller than me and much more muscular. Pulling him up off the ground would be nearly impossible unless he could help me some.
As I pulled, Jace used his good foot to help hoist himself off the ground. Once he stood up, he leaned most of his body weight to one side, resting his hip on the front bumper of my SUV.
He tried taking a step forward, immediately losing his balance and landing against my chest as he winced in pain.
I did my best to keep him upright. It was hard, but I managed. He quickly leaned back against the car, trying to breathe through the pain.
“Definitely twisted, maybe broken,” he said, looking down at his foot.
“I am so sorry Jace. I just turned the corner, and the sun caught my eyes. I couldn’t see you in the crosswalk until it was too late,” I said as my eyes welled up. “I could’ve killed you.”
The tears flowed down my cheeks.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, Cass,” Jace said, pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll forgive you if you take me to see Dr. Yates down the road. I need to get this thing x-rayed,” he bargained, laughing.
“Why are you laughing at a time like this? I’m about to have a panic attack.”
“Because, it was an accident. I should’ve known better than to step into the crosswalk when I saw you coming down the road. I’ve always been scared of your driving,” he said, laughing again.
“I guess I don’t really have a leg to stand on,” I said, accepting defeat.
“You can say that again,” he joked, looking down at his leg.
I glared at him. “Shut up, Jace. This is no time for jokes.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”
“Before you start, let me get my phone out so I can video it.”
“In all seriousness, can you take me to the doctor? My foot is throbbing,” he said, hopping to the passenger side of my car.
I hurried to get behind him in case he needed my help.
“Do you think you can get in by yourself?” I asked, waiting for him to tell me how to help him into the passenger seat.
“Yes, I’ll just hold this handle and hoist myself in.”
He did exactly that. Grabbing the handle, he turned so his back was to the seat and jimmied himself into it, managing not to fall.
As he gripped the handle, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos that ran across his left arm.
