We? Who said anything about us going together? We just met. I haven’t even introduced myself, and if I try now, I’m probably going to throw up on his shoes.
“Leaving already?” Vee comes to our table as I try to put my laptop in my bag, and I can’t help the way I shrink back from her. When Clarissa said she’d arranged for my mystery man to meet me at Wench, I was immediately uncomfortable. I haven’t spoken to Vee since Mom died, much less stopped at her superhero-themed diner. When Mother was alive, Wenchseemed quirky. Since her death, the whole place feels like a gratuitous memorial that I want no part of. All I want right now is an ice pick to stab the living thing that has to be currently clawing its way outside my cheekbone.
I pitch forward and strong arms wrap around me, helping me slump back down to my chair.
“Can we get a couple of fresh iced teas?” Jasper’s voice is surprisingly close. Oh. He’s the one who caught me.
I push him away as I burp down some puke. “I’m okay.”
Vee chuckles. “He always was stubborn. Runs in the family.”
She’s not allowed to talk about my mother. Not after everything. I point a finger in her direction as I try to work upthe gumption to tell her so, but she’s already walking away, long braid swinging down her back.
“I have to go home,” I say, at the same time Jasper says, “Three more minutes.”
“What?” Seriously, why are the lights so bright in here?
He leans toward me, face serious. It’s a cute face. Stubble and one crooked tooth. If I saw him on a bus, I’d hope it was the kind of face I’d see regularly on my commute.
“Three more minutes,” he says. “Can’t have a repeat of yesterday. Looks like you’re still feeling it. Three more minutes and it’s safe to go. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Excuse me? Lumber Jasper has no right to tell me what to do. Clarissa said he was a doctor or something, but we don’t know each other. I struggle out of his hold, even though I’m shivering. My jacket. I should put on my jacket. But when I pull it from the chair, I can’t even find the sleeve, so I stuff it into my bag along with the laptop.
“Morgan. Wait.”
“Let me leave or I’ll vomit all over your shirt.” I stagger toward the door. Hopefully the cool air outside will settle me.
It doesn’t.
The scuff of a shoe on the pavement means Jasper’s followed me. “Morgan. At least let me call someone for you. You really don’t look good. Is there someone who can come get you? Clarissa?”
Clarissa. She can pick me up. She should, actually. This is all her fault.
I fumble for my phone. I’m going to give her a piece of my mind. The streetlight overhead hurts my eyes, but I stumble on.
Oh, wait. Not the streetlight. It’s not shining down at me, it’s shining at me. Too high to be a car. The grill of a bus shines chrome fangs at me as it comes around the corner, moving too fast.
Here we go again, a voice says inside my head, but before I can ask what it means by “again,” it gets swallowed up in the pain as I trip and?—
Something pulls me back. The bus blares its horn as it rumbles into the dark. I’m sprawled on my back. An immovable weight holds me down on the damp sidewalk and hot breath pants in my ear.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Morgan, you’re okay. You’re alive.” The tips of Jasper’s fingers are rough as he brushes hair out of my eyes. The gesture is weirdly tender considering we’ve just met.
But despite his words and kind touch, adrenaline is coursing through me. Something is very wrong. The bus. The concrete. I try to breathe, and it’s so painful, my vision fades in and out.
“No, no, no. Morgan. Hey.” Jasper grabs hold of my shoulders and shakes. I flinch at the pain. So much pain. “Hey. Look at me. Look. You’re okay. It’s a panic attack. Look at me.”
My gaze meets his. The streetlight shines around him like a halo. Is this heaven? Did the bus hit us both? Are we both dead? I’m the only one who should be dead. I’m the only one who?—
No. That’s not right. Is it? Memories ping around in my brain. It feels like trying to focus on a picture being held too close to my face. I back up, retracing my steps. The bar. Jasper was late. I left. I walked outside. There was a bus. Pain. People.
I glance around. The street is empty.
“The bus,” I say slowly, pushing up on my elbows.
“Yes.” He helps me all the way up to sitting. “Yes, the bus. Do you remember what happened?”
“You... pulled me out of the way. You saved me. I think.”
