More than a couple—there’s no way what I’m left with as my vision clears is anything close to reality.
It can’t be.
Because that would mean the tall figure vaulting barriers and running towards me in the rain is Tam—that he’s here—and as much as I don’t share the misfortune of the poor souls I’ve seen tonight, I’ve never been that lucky.
Twenty-One
BHODI
Luck can change.
It’s a singular thought as Tam runs through the rain and sweeps into my current universe, isolated by the disbelief still holding firm.
“Bhodi.” He goes to touch me, then thinks better of it at the last second. “What the fuck happened?”
I lack the words to explain it, but I’m not so far gone that I don’t realise what Tam’s staring at. Me, soaking wet and covered in blood at the side of the road, the fading chaos of a major accident unfolding behind me.Blood makes him sick.“Pile-up.”
“Can fucking see that.” His hands hover again, like he’s fighting the urge to check every inch of me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
I stand to reassure him before he gets blood on him too. “I’m not hurt. I wasn’t in the accident—I didn’t even see it. Just got roped into the aftermath.”
Tam’s as wet as me and his dark eyes are a little wild. It takes him a second to process what I’m saying. His gaze bounces between me and the HEMS chopper preparing to take off and he shakes his head a little. “I thought you were dead.”
“What?”
“You didn’t come home—you didn’t answer your phone. Then I drove up on this—” He shudders. “Fuck it. Doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
It does matter—hematters. But as I go to tell him so, I sway on my feet and his strong arms are an instant cage around me, taking my weight and hauling me to his chest.
I sink into his embrace without a second thought. Forgetting about my wet clothes and the blood. I bury my face and breathe him in, the horrors of the last few hours tightening their grip, and for however long he holds me in the rain, his warm cinnamon scent is the only thing tethering me to the world.
Tam rubs my back, saying nothing and everything with his potent touch. With his stoicism as the blood of a stranger soaks his clothes too.
I take a deep breath and ease back. “Did you smoke?”
He screws his face up. “Little bit. I was really fucking worried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Not being dead is enough.”
I nod, slowly, everything we need to say to each other swirling between us in a depthless cloud. “I need to go home.”
“You can leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. Let’s find it and get your stuff.”
How I put one foot in front of the other, I have no idea, but the next thing I know I’ve abandoned my car in a lay-by, and I’m in the passenger seat of Tam’s van, clutching my phone as Fairytale of New York blares from the cantankerous stereo.
“Fucking thing.” Tam thumps it, and the impact sends a cigarette box sliding from the dashboard into my lap.
“These yours?”
