Page 3 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“Grabbing a few pictures. I mean, who can pass by this face—” She turned to Bones and the man but they were gone.

How odd. They must have escaped when her back was turned.

“They left,” she said.

“Here, babe, let’s get a selfie,” Jaxon said, putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Sure.” She packed away her camera in its bag and leaned in.

“Here we go,” he said, recording. “Having the best day with my best girl.”

Something was on her shoulder. She glanced down to find a black spider.

She yelped and frantically brushed it off. Just as she realized it was a cheap plastic Halloween decoration, she slipped on the rocks. Frantically windmilling her arms, she hung in the air for a second before falling backward down the slope. Her head hit the ground first, and the rest of her tumbled over the uneven ground. It happened all at once and took forever. She felt every stick and rock, every scrape and every jagged edge that cut into her. Heard the unmistakable crunch of electronics being crushed. Felt the stone that sliced open her arm at the elbow.

This was bad.

She sat up slowly, palms stinging and her head throbbing. There was a deeper pain, an overwhelming amount, that hadn’t processed yet. Shock acted like a cushion to keep her from screaming but it wouldn’t last.

Blood trickled down her left arm, rolling off her finger tips. Gently, she touched the back of her head. It wasn’t sticky but it hurt.

Fuck. This was really bad.

Jaxon laughed as if her falling was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. “You should have seen the look on your face, babe! Classic.”

“Jaxon, I need you to call 911,” she said, keeping her voice calm.

“It’s just a cut, babe. You’ll be fine,” he said, still chuckling and clearly not getting it.

“I’m a hemophiliac.”

His brow furrowed. “Is that like some kind of ironmaxxing diet? Cool, but I don’t know why you want to talk about it now.”

That man did not have a single thought in his head. She was dating a good-looking, empty-headed asshole because for the first time in the three years since her divorce, her libido woke up.

“No,” she said, still trying to keep calm even though a quiver crept into her voice. Shock would wear off soon and she’d be in a blinding amount of pain. “It’s a blood disorder. I can’t stop bleeding.”

She pressed her hand over the cut on her arm for all the good it did. Her knees were also bleeding but not as profusely. The real danger was internal bleeding. Slamming her head into a rock was a concussion and possible brain bleed. She needed to get up on her feet, up to the trail and to a hospital.

“Like that Russian prince?”

“Yeah, sure.” Geri wasn’t surprised that he knew of Prince Alexei. What was surprising was that Jaxon listened to history podcasts while at the gym. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Prince Alexei was arguably the most famous hemophiliac of all time but he was also a positively ancient example of hemophilia. She didn’t have time to go into the details of living with the disorder with modern treatments.

“Shit.” He ran his hands through his hair, realization finally sinking in. “Shit. Shit. It was just a prank.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny!” she snapped. “Give me your shirt.”

He yanked off his shirt and tossed it down to her. She tore off a strip at the bottom and tied it around her arm. Blood soaked through instantly. Maybe it was wishful thinking that it slowed down—maybe it was desperation.

“I don’t have any signal on my phone.” Panic crept into his voice.

Great. Now she had to manage her panicky boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend. Seriously. They were so breaking up when this was over.

“I’ll run down to the parking lot,” he announced.

“No. Wait⁠—”