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“Say it.”

“I’m waiting for this story to start making sense.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t.”

The silence envelops us again.

“Hot woman who stitched you... Is she a doctor?”

“No.”

“Nurse?”

“No.”

“EMT?”

I liked it better when he wasn’t talking.

“Lifeguard training.”

Beck looks at me like I morphed into an alien.

“Summer after junior year.”

His truck swerves.

“Watch the fucking road.”

“SHE STITCHED YOU WITH LIFEGUARD TRAINING?”

“She watched a YouTube video.”

He starts laughing again. “Oh, good. That makes me feel better.”

“Thank fuck she didn’t take me to the hospital,” I murmur.

“Most normal people would’ve.”

I don’t say anything. I know he’s right.

“But hot, crazy ones get a pass.”

“She’s not crazy.”

I don’t know that for a fact.

Honestly, she probably is, considering the things she did tonight.

“Yeah. And hospitals are inconvenient for fucking. Plus doctors usually frown on horizontal mambos immediately after stabbings.”

“Shut up, fucker.”

I glare at him. My body hurts too fucking much to hit him again. I wish it didn’t. I’d knock the fucker out and drive his truck home.

“You’re lucky the lunatic didn't kill you.”

My head turns. “She's not a lunatic.”