“Working?” I automatically turn my head to look and wince. His hand shoots out and touches my chin.
“Sorry!” he says as he pulls his hand back. “I feel like you’re not supposed to move your head when you get injured?”
“You’re probably right.”
“Anyway, yeah, I was working and I kind of saw you…rolldown here.”
I laugh and it hurts, again. “There was no way that wasn’t funny.”
A pause. “Well, I don’t want to say it was funny until I know you don’t have any head trauma or, like, internal bleeding.”
Then I hear my name being called and thundering footsteps. Marcella.
“Cass!” she shouts as she reaches me, flinging her body to the ground, her helmet thrown off, blond curls flying everywhere. “My god. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m in some pain but I think I’m fine. Ellis called nine-one-one.”
I see her register Ellis then. A tiny lift of a dark brow. “Thanks, Ellis.”
He gets up and steps back. “Of course.”
Marcella’s hand strokes my forehead. That mom touch. “That was fucking gnarly.”
Marcella’s kids have said “fuck” since they were able to talk. I sigh. “I’m kind of embarrassed but mostly too worried I broke several bones and my brain.”
“You look cute despite having rolled down a hill like a Homer Simpson GIF,” she says tenderly.
I try not to laugh, and she slides a look at Ellis again. “Only you would get hit on by a hot guy after a humiliation like that.” For once, her voice is blessedly quiet.
“Get out. He’s, like, twelve.” I also keep my voice as low as humanly possible.
“Who cares? You’ll be done with him before he has to buy school supplies.”
Marcella knows why I don’t date men for longer than a few months at a time. For many years, she didn’t, and thought I was just delightfully slutty. Other than my family, she’s the only person in my life who knows about Daniel and the whole past-life-fated deal.
We hear sirens in the distance. Suddenly, Iamsuper embarrassed. More than when I actually fell. Am I really hurt enough to call an ambulance? It seems like a lot for what’s possibly just a few scrapes.
“You can’t be too safe.”
My eyes whip over to Ellis, who’s gotten close, again. Dimples, again. “You looked like you regretted me calling nine-one-one.”
This is a level of perceptiveness I am not used to from any man and I’m so startled by it that embarrassment melts away to curiosity. “Do you read minds?” It sounds like I’m joking, but I’m not. If I can see past lives, he could one hundred percent read minds.
But he just laughs and runs a hand over his chest. A weirdlyconfident “aw shucks” gesture. “It’s just how I would be feeling. I’m sure your girlfriend agrees.”
Mar and I look at each other before Mar says, “She wishes. We’re just friends, sorry. I’m married. She’s single.”
Before I can absorb the embarrassment of that pointed remark, an army of medics descends on me and I lose track of both of them in the chaotic good intention. Authoritative and comforting, they check my body, ask me questions, and gingerly touch my arm and head. After what feels like forever, it’s determined that I might have a concussion and a sprained wrist. They load me up in the ambulance and Marcella hops in with me. Before the doors close, I see Ellis standing back, his hands in his pockets. Sitting up with my vision no longer blurry, I can see him clearly—relaxed posture, broad shoulders, and a great head of wavy brown hair. His jeans are covered in dirt smudges, as is one part of his cheek.
“Thank you!” I shout out.
Dimples. “No worries!”
The doors shut and Marcella rolls her eyes. “Just bone already.”
The medics laugh and I rest my head back, the movement reminding me of Betty’s morning scalp assault. Birthday week, as per usual, is off to a great start.
4
