“It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” I console him before responding to his mom. “We’ll have the EMTs take care of her. She might need a couple of stitches.”
The blaring siren of a fire engine draws our attention to the road. I lift a hand to wave at Mac. He’s going to be very relieved that the only car involved in this injury is too small to even be driven by a Barbie.
Speaking of Barbie, another blond comes bounding down the back steps of the fire truck, hair flying. Maybe I’m the one who hit my head in a car accident and am hallucinating because this couldn’t actually be happening. There’s no way Mac brought Gemma on the truck with them, even if she was at the firehouse and overheard the address of the emergency.
Mac’s face pivots to follow Gemma’s race across the lawn. His mouth hangs open in shock. So she stowed away.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
“What happened?” she yells before she reaches us. “Is Daisy hurt?”
The woman who isnotGemma sits on the step of the entryway with Daisy on her lap. “A car hit her.”
“Oh no.” Gemma kneels in front of her niece, hands on either side of the girl’s cheeks. She shoots me a wild glance. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Karson. You have to go after the driver of the hit-and-run.”
I press my lips together. There is no protocol for situations like this. How do I even respond?
Mac and another fireman in yellow join us, wide eyes probably reflecting my own bewilderment. “We didn’t know she was on there,” he insists.
I nod in understanding. After all, I’ve had Gemma in a class before.
Forrest stares in awe at the two men in uniform, fears for his sister forgotten. “You rode the fire truck, Aunt Gemma? That’s awesome!”
“Yes.” She wipes her niece’s tears away and kisses her on the forehead. “And it’s a good thing I did. Now I’m here for Daisy after she got hit by a car.” She glances up at me. “Karson, why are you just standing here? Aren’t you going to go track down whoever hit her?”
It would be really nice if the sister would clear all this up, but she’s focused on the girl in her arms. I shrug at Mac and company, then plant a head on the little boy’s shaggy head. “Found him.”
Gemma does a double take to stare at her nephew in confusion. Her azure eyes finally jump to meet mine.
“It was an RC car,” I say.
She stands and steps back, hand to her heart. “He hit her with the RC car I gave him?”
“Well, I didn’t know that part, but yeah.”
Forrest hangs his head. “Sorry, Aunt Gemma.”
Gemma hugs the little boy. She’s a good aunt. But seeing her with her twin drives home the point of why she doesn’t want to put herself in a position to be compared with anyone else again.
I don’t even mean to compare the two of them, but I’ve already had the thought that though her sister’s not unattractive, it’s obvious Gemma takes better care of herself. I’ve also had the thought that if her sister is making the kind of money it takes to still live here while paying child support, then it’s no wonder Gemma feels the need to prove herself with her writing.
Her gaze seeks mine for help. I wish I could fix this, and I don’t just mean the fact that there’s another siren blaring louder.
An ambulance angles its way between my cruiser and the fire truck. Here come a third round of emergency workers needing an explanation. I don’t envy them the paperwork this event is going to require, but the story is going to be repeated until it’s folklore. If any neighbors are filming for TikTok, this thing could go viral. Kai’s probably going to kick himself for not stowing away on the fire truck as well.
The EMTs surround Daisy, pulling out gauze and other medical supplies while she watches them for entertainment more than anything. She’s going to be fine.
I kind of saunter around the crowd, making small talk with the firemen, though, honestly, I’m just trying to get to Gemma. I squeeze behind Mac and suddenly realize there’s not much room between him and the siding of the garage for two people. I realize this because Gemma’s the other person, and now we’re wedged into a corner, facing each other.
I have more feelings than I can put into words. I default to “Hey.”
“Hey,” she says, but I read her eyes for all the things she’s not saying. They pool with relief that her niece is not injured, waver with humiliation from arriving on a fire truck she shouldn’t have been on, then settle with the sadness of a longing that will never be fulfilled.
It tugs me forward. “Come here.” I wrap my arms around her and hug her to my chest. I’m using the trauma as an excuse to comfort her, but the truth is I probably need this more than she does.
Her body folds into mine, a reminder of how she’s the perfect fit. Then there’s her silky hair tickling the back of my hands, and her fresh coconut fragrance making me wish we were on a tropical honeymoon. I breathe her in, but rather than kiss the top of her head like I want to, I glance over it to anchor myself in reality.
The EMTs take Daisy’s temperature and listen to her heart. Mac speaks into his radio, probably letting the rest of the fire department know they can stand down. No Jaws of Life needed to extrapolate anyone from a totaled vehicle.
