“You sure we haven’t met before?” he asks, those same eyes sparkling like we’re sharing a good joke. He’s the only one who’s laughing, though.
“I don’t consort with criminals,” I say as I stuff the laptop into my bag. My heart is pounding with embarrassment, and I can’t say why. I’ve done nothing wrong here. My jacket sleeve is twisted as I pull it off my chair, and I can’t get it undonegracefully, so I stash that too. I give Jasper a frosty smile. “Goodbye. Good luck with your... endeavors.”
“See you soon,” he says, which is not the response I expect, but whatever. He’s a smart-ass. I’m a law-abiding citizen. It was never going to work.
“I highly doubt that,” I say.
He winks at me. Winks! “Call it a feeling.”
Well, he’s wrong. As soon as I’m outside, I call Clarissa. She has so much explaining to do. The phone rings and rings. Around me, the street is empty, and I’ve already wasted too much time tonight, so I cross against the light.
“Hello?” Clarissa says just as I’m about to hang up. She sounds far too pleased with herself. “Are you in looooove yet?”
“You don’t know me at all, do you?” I growl.
“Sure I do. What’s wrong?” She coos, and unlike my all-too human growl, her sound has a distinct edge of pigeon to it that only irritates me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You said he was a doctor.”
“Right. Jasper and Alyssa?—”
I don’t find out what she says. Instead, I’m blinded as headlights swing around the corner. Too high off the ground to be a car. The telltale hum of one of the city’s new fleet of electric busses is my final warning before body meets grill and my world goes flying.
Surprisingly, the act of getting hit by a bus doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you might expect. The problem isn’t the moment of impact. It’s the part where you hit the concrete. The resulting trauma is unpredictable. Some people get up and walk away. Others land a fraction of an inch in another position and everything goes to hell. In my case, I bounce off the curb while bus tires screech. Pretty sure my pelvis is broken. Probably one if not both my legs. It’s hard to see out of my right eye, and my hair feels wet against the back of my head. It’s only been a fewseconds, but already every breath is getting harder than the last. The wheeze says I’ve punctured a lung. Basic field medicine is one of those things I learned while I waited for my superness to reveal itself. If you can’t be part of the solution, you can be there to treat the collateral damage.
Passengers rush out of the bus where it’s come to a halt. One of them says they’re calling an ambulance. I can’t see who is speaking, though, because suddenly my field of vision is filled with Jasper. I try to tell him to go away, but the words don’t come out right and they’re punctuated by a goobery cough that is undoubtedly bloody.
He bats my hand away as I try to push him back, and his voice is oddly calm. He wipes my face with a cloth.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” His gaze swings up like he’s talking to someone, though everything goes quiet and dark for a second, so I don’t hear what he says. It really is too bad he’s not a doctor. We aren’t going to have a torrid love affair, but someone with some more extensive medical knowledge than how to dress a wound would be really handy right now.
When my vision clears again, I realize his hair is uncovered. The cloth against my cheek is his toque. There’s no way that’s hygienic. I go to tell him to leave me alone—people like him don’t get to hurt others one minute and help them the next—but all I can do is cough and gasp.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, which makes me laugh at least. God, that hurts. Soon I won’t be seeing anyone. But he leans over me and whispers urgently. “Morgan. Listen. Tomorrow. Please. I need you to remember me tomorrow, okay?”
Why is he still here? We don’t know each other. And if he sticks around much longer, the police will arrive. They won’t be able to save me, but at least they can arrest him for all his henching. Odds are good I won’t be here to witness it, and that’s a shame.
I wonder if I’ll get to see my mother again.
CHAPTER 2
My mother stares down at me from the ceiling with her eyebrow arched halfway up to her hairline. Is that even physically possible? I try to do the same, and the headache that pounds inside my skull nearly makes me pass out. Oh god, it hurts. Everything does. My head. My hips. My legs.
“You sure you don’t want something to eat? I could cook you up something.” Vee is standing at the edge of my table and I practically jump out of my skin, which only makes the pain worse. The idea of eating anything makes me want to throw up.
“I’m good,” I say, swallowing hard. She cocks her head like she’s about to ask more questions, so I frown down at my laptop screen. The battery is almost drained, but she doesn’t know that. I type something. It might be gibberish. My vision doubles as I try to focus so I can read it anyway. When Vee walks away, I breathe an unsteady sigh of relief.
The chair across from me scrapes back. I didn’t even hear someone approach. For a second, I think it’s Vee, but it’s not. It’s a hipster lumberjack. My vision swims again. Is he my date? Clarissa said he was cute. Too cute for someone like me, though by the way it feels inside my skull, the aneurysm that’s about to burst will probably kill me before he comes to that realization.
He smiles, showing one crooked tooth, and my head spins. For a second, the feeling is more like déjà vu, but it recedes quickly, overwhelmed by the burning nausea in my throat.
“Am I late?” he asks, pulling the toque from his head. It’s the same colour green as his eyes. He holds out his hand to shake. “Jasper Jackson, at your service.”
Whatever he’s offering, I don’t want it, unless it’s a few ibuprofens and maybe a ride to the hospital.
“I’m sorry,” I say, pushing up on wobbly legs. There’s a good chance I won’t make it to the door without collapsing, but I have to try. “I need to leave.”
“Oh, cool.” He rises too. “Where are we headed?”
