“Fuck, fuck,” I utter frantically, fairly certain my heart has stopped beating. Time, too, has slowed to a crawl, every nerve ending in my body on high alert, my hair standing on end as if waiting for lightning to strike.
When I see a head of dark brown hair, my breath whooshes from my lungs.
“Ah, God.”
“Oakley?” the dispatcher says, her voice small from beside me. “What are you seeing?”
“He’s okay,” I rush out, my breath catching repeatedly as I slow my truck, my eyes locked on Lawson, who appears to be digging around in the dirt beside his vehicle. “He… He seems to be okay. There’s another person here, standing beside her car. They both seem okay.”
“That’s good. The ambulance is less than two minutes out.”
I think I mutter something in response, but there’s a loud ringing overtaking my ears, my entire focus on Lawson as I pull my truck to a swift stop at the side of the road. I jump out, jogging toward Lawson, my newfound hope mixed with a heavy fear I haven’t yet sloughed off.
“Lawson,” I shout, the sight of his truck on its top making my pulse skip anew. I glance quickly at the woman nearby. She has her hand in front of her mouth, her other tight around her stomach. “Are you all right?”
The woman, realizing I’m talking to her, nods. “Fine, fine. He won’t stop. I thought,God. He got out of the truck, but he won’t stop.”
I don’t have time to decode her words before I’m reaching the area where Lawson crashed. The man himself looks unharmed, but he’s down on his knees, hastily searching through the leaves and debris beside his vehicle, glass shattered on the ground all around him.
“Jesus,” I curse, practically skidding down the short incline into the ditch. “Lawson.”
He doesn’t look up, shaking his head, his hands raking over the ground.
“Lawson, fuck.”
A siren sounds off in the distance, my mom’s voice behind me calm as she talks to the other woman involved in the crash. I put it out of my mind, the sight of Lawson whole in front of me hitting me with enough force to nearly have my knees giving out. As is, I stagger the last few steps to him. My boots crunch over glass and leaves before I drop to a crouch in front of the man who doesn’t even seem to clock my presence.
“Lawson,” I try again, my voice breaking as I reach for his face.
He startles when I redirect his gaze my way, his eyes wet and unfocused. I nearly sob out my relief, my eyes running over him quickly, looking for any injury that might be there.
“Are you all right?” I rasp. “Jesus, Law, are you hurt?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, his hands shaking as he goes back to brushing leaves and small pieces of glass out of the way. “I can’t find it, Oak.”
His voice is so small I nearly miss it.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head again, his movements frantic as he crawls toward the passenger door of the wrecked truck. He drops low, sweeping his hand inside, so much broken glass everywhere I wince, sure he must be cutting himself.
“Lawson, c’mon, let’s get you to the road. You might be hurt.”
“Oak… I can’t find it.”
“Can’t find what?”
My dad’s voice drifts over. “He all right?”
“Think so,” I call back, trying to guide Lawson away from the wreck, but the man is immovable. “Law, you needa get checked. The ambulance is nearly here.”
If anything, he searches faster, his breaths starting to come in short pants. “It’s not here. I can’t find it.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask again.
The sirens cut off as the ambulance arrives, Lawson refusing to budge, his reticence scaring me.
“Hey,” I say as soothingly as I can, my hand on Lawson’s arm squeezing. “It’s okay. Would you look at me, princess? Please? Look at me?”
