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Lennon.

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude,” Jumper yells, running down into the ditch next to me. “Don’t fucking move.”

I shake my head, still trying to get up as he tries to force me back down. “Lennon.”

“Brother, Lennon is fine. Let’s worry about your dumb ass right now.”

No.

I need to get to her.

The revving of an engine has both of us turning to the road. The car that ran me off the road is sitting there, watching us. I can’t make out the driver through.

Then, it lunges forward, heading straight for us.

“Fuck,” Jumper yells, reaching into the waistband of his jeans and pulling out his pistol. He aims it at the car and flicks the safety off. Just before the car reaches the edge of the road, it turns hard to the left and speeds off, tires squealing the whole way.

As soon as it’s out of sight, I collapse back into the grass and suck in a breath as I close my eyes.

Goddamn.

That was too fucking close.

“Lennon,” I say again. When I open my eyes, Jumper has his phone pressed to his ear and he glares down at me with his hand on my chest.

I need to get up.

I need to get home to my girl.

But I can’t fucking fight him and the pain.

“Do not fucking move.”

I shove his hand away. “Lennon.”

“Yeah, okay, caveman,” he growls as I fight to get to my hands and knees, agony ricocheting through me. “We’ll get you to the hospital, don’t you fucking worry about that.”

“My bike,” I force out as I begin crawling across the ditch back to the road.

Fuck.

This hurts like hell.

But I don’t care.

“Forgot your fucking bike, asshole,” he fires back, coming after me. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. I’m getting back on my bike and getting back to my girl.

“Yeah, dude,” Jumper says behind me. “Maybe bring restraints too so we can stop this dumb motherfucker from killing himself.”

Whatever.

I don’t fucking care.

I just need to get to Lennon.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lennon