“Jansen!” Walker yells as I yank the wheel to the side. The headlights flash through the night, a startled, bloody face caught in the light a moment before the car spins into Bryce.
The thud shakes the car, the airbag triggering before I can see which way I’m spinning, leaving me praying that Clara’s out of the way. Walker’s curses seem far away as we continue our circle, a second thunk leaving my heart stalled out in mychest, already reaching for my seatbelt, ready to jump out and get to her, terrified that I’ve just killed the love of my life.
There’s another bump as the car bangs against something, more slide, then one last crunch when the car comes to a complete stop.
I’m out before I can register that I’ve banged my head against the door at least twice, not worried about me, but about the girl I’d give my life for. I slip on the black ice, face-planting, so I crawl instead, needing to get to her, to make sure she’s okay.
Scrambling on all fours around the side of the car, I find Clara down on the ice, and I dive toward her, calling her name. She looks toward me, eyes wide. I pull her into my lap, patting her down, making sure all her limbs are where they should be. “Are you hurt? Oh my God, Clara, tell me you’re okay.”
“Jansen, you’re bleeding,” she says.
“So are you,” I yelp, red oozing out from her sweatpants just under her knee. I grab onto the fabric, trying to press it against the gash, not wanting any more of her blood out of her. It needs to stay inside her. That’s the only thing that’s important. Icy fingers brush against my forehead, and I spare a glance at her, the white of her face scaring me more than the blood. “Clara,” I say, barely registering when an unknown voice kneels beside me and says they’ve called an ambulance.
“She’s going into shock,” I say to the stranger. He must be a neighbor who heard the crash.
“Buddy, I hate to say it, but that’s not the worst injury out here.”
There’s a commotion, and I turn toward it, Trips and RJ dashing across the road. Trips scoops Clara from my arms despite the fact he’s wearing nothing but a towel, soap suds still in his hair. I fall back on the ice, the cold not existing while Clara looks like she’s barely with us.
“Bryce,” she whispers, looking past the car.
I follow her gaze, RJ approaching what looks more like roadkill than a man, the pool of blood around him growing every second. Too much blood to survive.
Dead. I killed him.
My stomach turns, and I vomit out the terror, each heave of my guts bringing tears to my eyes. “Walker?” I croak, suddenly worried that he isn’t here with us. Did I kill him too? “Walker!” I shout, RJ picking up on my panic, rushing to the car, the airbags still mostly inflated. He dashes around the far side, and as he finishes his circle, he slips on the ice, grasping the trunk to keep upright, muttering something about that side being crushed.
“Oh God,” Clara whispers, staring at the car with complete horror.
Sirens sound in the distance, and I can’t help but sob as I gag again. I can’t feel my hands, and I don’t know if it’s the ice or my body and brain shutting down, trying to keep me safe from whatever the hell is happening.
RJ batters at the airbag, then reaches into the car. It takes a forever minute, my stomach emptying again, the sirens growing closer and closer, before he drags a blessedly conscious Walker into my line of sight.
Walker stops RJ from pulling him onto the ice, barking out an order that we all somehow listen to. “Get over here. Now.”
I crawl, Trips carries Clara, and we surround him, Clara shaking, whether from the cold or shock, who knows.
Walker seems to be the most together of us as he meets all our shocked faces. “None of us could sleep. Jansen and I went for a drive. Bryce broke in, there was a fight, and then he chased Clara into the street. We swerved, missing her and hitting him. Do you understand?”
I nod, even though his crushed leg has me turning to gag once more, shivers wracking through me. The neighbor comes up to us, phone to his ear, one hand tucked into his armpit. “They’re almost here,” he says, looking as green as I feel.
And as the flashing red and blue lights reach us, the sirens too loud to say anything else, I curl up on the ice, out of steam, overwhelmed, but damn glad we’re all alive.
Chapter 86
Walker
Alazy pink coats the horizon as I wait in the back of an ambulance, mildly annoyed to see the one carrying Bryce leave with lights flashing. The bastard was on the organ donor list, so they’re rushing him to surgery, hoping that some of his organs are salvageable.
If they are, it’s probably the best that could come from that monster.
The bumper of the old car sliced his femoral artery, but his abdomen was intact, except for the bruiseswe’dput there.
So far, the police are buying our story though, because really, there isn’t much untrue about it. Clara, RJ, and Trips all show signs of a fight, the bruising on Clara’s neck nearly as bad as the gash on her leg, also from the bumper. That old metal beast nearly took both of them out, and I’m so goddamn relieved that it was Jansen driving. I’m not sure I could havereacted that quickly, swerving toward Bryce and away from Clara.
I didn’t mention that part to the cops. I’m not even sure Jansen knows that’s what he did. But it’s what happened. In that split second, he chose Clara at the expense of Bryce, exactly the way it should be.
They’ve patched her up and cleared her to go home. In a handful of minutes, though, they’re sending me to the hospital, because it’s pretty obvious my leg needs surgery. I’m actively not looking at it. Every time I do, I get queasy. An old oak tree stopped the spin of the car, and, well, my right leg happened to be in the exact wrong position.
