by Kayt Miller
As soon as the light turns green, I slowly pull away from my spot into the intersection and continue my ride home just as a large SUV in the lane next to me begins to merge into my lane. “Hey!” I yell, then press my thumb on the horn button, but the car’s windows are closed and the horn isn’t loud. Hell, it’s not even a horn. It’s more of a beep-beep sound. Whoever is driving the SUV is still moving into my lane. My only option is to swerve over to the lane to my right—into oncoming traffic. Headlights practically blind me, but I maneuver over into the other lane. The car heading my way is far enough back that I’m able to jump the curb onto the sidewalk, where I lay down my scooter into a skid. I hear the metal scrape and even see sparks. It’s too bad my skin is doing the same.
When we both come to a stop, me and Bluebelle, the pain hits me like the SUV was about to. I take deep breaths to get myself under control, because I need to assess the damage and get out from beneath Bluebelle. I’m about to push her off me when I hear sirens. I look up and see an Ames police cruiser with its lights on chasing down the SUV that just about killed me. They must have been close enough to see what happened.
“Shit,” I hiss. My face, left arm, left side, and left leg burn like they’ve been set on fire. I’m able to move some, so it doesn’t seem as though I’ve broken anything, but I suspect I’ve lost skin, at the very least. Bluebelle is still resting on my leg, and I do my best to lift her enough for me to scoot out from beneath her. As soon as I do, I hear another set of sirens.
“Don’t move,” shouts a gruff voice.
No. Please don’t tell me I’m under arrest.
I look up and see Gage running toward me. “Jesus, Quinn.” When he gets to me, he slides onto his hands and knees. “I heard a call on the scanner that a motorcycle was run off the road.”
“It was me.”
Gage is checking me for injuries. We both gasp when we see the wound on my forearm. My sweatshirt is shredded enough to see that I’ve lost skin—a lot of skin. Blood has seeped through the fabric. Not only is there blood, but the wound is also covered with rocks and dirt.
“What happened?” he asks, looking at my leg next.
“The big SUV merged into my lane. They must not have seen me. I honked and then avoided them by pulling left and jumping the curb.”
“You could’ve been killed,” he snaps.
Why is he angry? I’m the one who’s hurt. “Yeah.” I wince as he tears the new hole in my jeans until it’s wide enough to see the leg wound. From here, it looks to be about the same as my arm.
“You shouldn’t be out driving this thing at night.”
“I had to work.”
“Then take the bus. It’s too dangerous.”
When he places his hand on my face to look there, he scowls. That’s when I get mad. It’s also when I swat at his hand, not hard, just enough to get it away from me. “You know what?” I say, doing my best to stand up. It’s not working. I’m having a hard time since my left side is fucked up.
“What, Quinn?” he asks softly.
I roll over to my right side and use the scooter to help me up. I wince when I put pressure on me left foot. Something doesn’t feel right there either, but I do my best to appear fine. “I’m just not cut out for this.”
“For what?”
“Anything,” I say, swinging my right hand in the air. I also start blubbering. Great. “Life.”
“Quinn—”
“No matter what I do, life just shits on me, Gage.” Yep, feeling sorry for myself. “I ruined Bluebelle.” I point to my scooter. “I know I have to go to the ER, because I’m pretty sure I broke my foot, and I don’t have the money for a hospital bill. I’ll have to spend the money from Mr. Becker, and that sucks because I was going to use that to move into a new place because there’s no room for me at the Beedle house because I no longer need it to fly to England since Cooke dumped me. Oh, and I told Luke Green to kiss my Kardashian ass, so I don’t have a job with which to pay the bills I’m going to have from the ER.” Just then, an ambulance pulls up with sirens blaring. “Great. Now I’ll have an ambulance bill because why. The fuck. Not?”
After all that, the only thing Gage asks is “You broke up with Cooke?”
I blink away tears as I stare into his eyes. It makes me laugh, but not in a good way. No, it’s more in the hysterical ‘I belong in a loony bin’ kind of way.
“Miss?” I look up to see two paramedics with very concerned expressions on their faces. “You okay?” asks the one closest. I feel my shoulders slump, because I don’t think I can handle being around another hot guy. Now there are three of them right here.
“No.” I’m not okay. I’m injured. My left side is a mess, and I’m pretty sure my foot is broken.
“Let us take a look. Can you walk over to the truck?”
“Yes.” I take a step and nearly fall on my face.
I feel an arm wrap around me, and I know it’s Gage. “Let me help.”
I do let him help. I hop on my good leg over the small section of grass, then do the same off the curb until I’m at the back of the ambulance, or truck as the paramedic says.
“What’s wrong with your foot?” the second guy asks.
I look at the badge on his chest and see his name. “Well, Bill, I think it’s broken. Or maybe just sprained.”
I peek over at the other guy. “Chip?”
“Yeah?” He’s busy getting gear out of a box. It looks like swabs, ointments, and a syringe. I hate shots.
“Your name is Chip, or is that a nickname?” If I distract him, maybe he’ll forget about using that needle.
“Charles. Chip for short.”
I feel warmth on my left and look over at Gage. “Thanks for helping me, Gage. Again. You’re always coming to my rescue.” I roll my eyes and it hurts. Not only that, but I see Chip and Bill look at each other. No matter. The truth is, my left side hurts—my face especially. I reach up to touch it and wince. “Did I lose part of my face?” Because if I did, that would suck. It’s probably my only good feature.
“Looks like it’s just scraped up. I’m going to clean that up for you. I’ll know more once I do that,” Chip says softly. “It’s gonna sting.”
“Great.” This day just gets better and better.
“Can you take the helmet off?”
I didn’t realize I was still wearing it. I’m half afraid to look at the damage. I do it, though. As soon as it’s off, I examine the top and sides. It’s scratched, but there aren’t any dents.
I wince when the first swipe of the antiseptic wipe hits my knee. “I really think we need to take her in,” says Bill. He tried to take off my shoe, my favorite pair of Converses, but I winced and whimpered, so he stopped. “Her foot is too swollen to pull the shoe off without pain. I’ll need to cut it off.”
No. Not that. I finally got these broken in. They’re soft and comfy and black. My favorite color, even though it’s technically not a color. “Just take all the laces out.” That’ll open it up.
Bill mumbles something, but he does as I suggest, opening the shoe wide enough to get it off my foot.
“See?” I say, doing my best to keep the pain from showing on my face, especially when he begins to poke and prod my foot.
“You’ve either got a serious sprain or it’s broken. You’ll need an X-ray.”
“See? Told ya.” This sucks. I can’t afford an X-ray. But what else can I do?
Gage is still next to me. He must sense my hesitation about the hospital. “The driver of the SUV will have insurance. They were at fault here.”
I nod as Bill puts a brace on my foot. It hurts. Looking over at Bluebelle, I sigh. “Do you think she’s totaled?”
Gage walks over to her and lifts her off the ground. “She’s banged up, but I bet she can be repaired.”
“That’s good,” I say, but there’s not a lot of excitement behind it.
Maybe he’s right. I should just start taking the bus.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“No problem, Quinn.” Tayler’s been quiet since she strolled into Mary Greeley’s emergency ward, though I haven’t had a chance to ask her why before now.
“What’s up?” I turn to face her as she drives down Lincoln Way.
“First. I heard about Luke. He called me and fessed up.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s sorry, by the way. Says you aren’t fired.”
“Did you make him not fire me?” I ask with an arched brow.
“No. He said he was an asshole and that he was proud that you stuck up for yourself.”
I did stick up for myself, didn’t I?
“Before I left, I told him I was going to tell on him… to you.” I giggle, then wince because the left side of my ribs hurt, and laughing makes that worse.
“Well, he beat you to it.” She’s not laughing. Hell, she’s not even smiling.
“So, what’s wrong?”
“Dylan.” I roll my eyes, but she can’t see me. It’s dark in the car. “He wants me back.”
“Of course he does.” My eyes roll so hard this time I bet she can hear it. “But you’re not taking him back, right?” She’s quiet. Too quiet. “Tay?”
“We were together for so long.”
“And?”
“He’s—”
“A cheating bastard. Besides, what about Luke?”
“Luke has his head up his ass.”
I can see that. “How so?”
“He can’t see past just hooking up. I mean, I should probably go along with it, since I was in a serious relationship for so long. I should have some fun. But I’m not made that way. Honestly, things with me and Dylan have been over a long time. We just drifted apart when we got up here, and we were so busy, neither one of us did anything about it.”
I snort. “Dylan did something about it.” He cheated.
“True.” Her laugh is humorless. We drive in silence for a few minutes. “No.”
“No what?”
“No, I’m not taking Dylan back. I’m also not going to be some guys hookup. There are plenty of girls who want that. I’m just not one of them.”
“And you told Luke all of that?”
“He knows. He just can’t seem to see himself in a relationship.” She shrugs. “I respect that.”
But she’s sad about it. “I’m sorry, Tay-Tay.”
She glances over, giving me a reserved smile. “So, you were nearly run over, huh?”
Leave it to Tayler to cut to the chase. “Oh, well, that was the good part of my day. The rest really sucked.”
That gets her laughing. Hard.
We decided it was best if I just crashed—no pun intended—at her place for tonight. I already sent a text to my roommates that I was staying with Tayler. I didn’t mention my accident.
When we pull into Tayler’s apartment complex, I frown. “You’ve got stairs.”
“There’s a service elevator. We’ll use that.”
“Thank goodness.”
Tayler wraps her arm around my waist and leads me through the door to the back of the main level. She presses the button, and we wait as the elevator clanks and wheezes its way down to us.
“So, where did they take your scooter?” she asks.
“The police have it.” Gage took care of it for me. He was going to drop it off at my house for me. He’s so sweet.
At her door, Tayler unlocks the deadbolt and pushes the door open. I step through, and the first thing I see are boxes stacked along the main hallway. “You’re ready to move. Did you find a place yet?”
“Most of that is Dylan’s stuff. He keeps thinking he’s just going to move back in here, but I took care of that. I’ve started packing my stuff too.” She shrugs. “Why not? I’ve got to be out of here. Our lease is up on the fifteenth.” I must have a strange expression, because she adds, “Yeah. Dylan wanted to be in before Thanksgiving last year, so he talked the management into a midmonth move-in date.” She rolls her eyes, then mutters, “Fucking tool.”
I want to ask her straight up if she wants to get a place together, but I know her. It’s got to seem like it’s her idea. She’s bossy like that. “I think I need to move too.”
“Really? Why?”
Sitting down on her sofa, I put my bad foot up on her ancient coffee table and update her on the basement and the landlord. I’d already told her about the mold issue.
“That’s bullshit,” she growls. “I hate landlords like that. He’s just spiteful.”
I can’t disagree. It appears he’s holding out on us because Patsy threatened him. I’m guessing, anyway.
As I sit on the couch, Tayler gathers up a sheet, blanket, and pillow for me. Her sofa is comfy. I’ve fallen asleep on it a time or two. Setting my phone on the coffee table, I pull off my mutilated sweatshirt and lay it across the back of the couch. Next, I retrieve the small bottle of pain meds the hospital pharmacy gave me. Then I lie down in my jeans and the tee I had on beneath the sweatshirt. I’d like to take the boot off, but I’m afraid I’ll bump my foot, which would hurt, so I do my best to get comfortable. It’s not easy, but I find a spot that isn’t bad.
“You hungry? Thirsty?” Tayler asks from the kitchen.
“I’d take some water. I need to take one of these pain pills.”
“Sure.”
She brings me water and a package of crackers. “You need to eat something with those things.”
“Thanks, Tay.”
“No problem.”
I take the pills, then pull a cracker from the sleeve and nibble while Tayler stands beside the sofa. I hear her sniffle and jerk my head up to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“You could’ve been killed.” Her sniffles are becoming more frequent.
“I wasn’t.”
“Fucking scooters,” she snaps.
“It wasn’t Bluebelle’s fault. It was the idiot driver of the SUV.”
Wiping her eyes, she scowls at me. “You know what I mean.”
I do.
She sniffles once more. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m right here. I’m fine.”
“I know.” Her voice is so soft that I barely heard those two words. “You should call your boyfriend and tell him you’re okay.”
What boyfriend? “He’s… not. This morning….” I can’t seem to finish what I’m trying to say.
“Jesus, you did have a bad day, didn’t you?”
“Told you.”
Running her hand over my head, she whispers, “Poor Q.” Sitting on the coffee table in front of me, she smiles. “We should totally live together.”
Bam. There it is. “You think?” I try to seem surprised at her suggestion.
“Absolutely. We’d have a blast.”
I smile, then wince because my cheek hurts like a mofo.” We would.” I hold my good hand out to her for a shake. “Roomies.”
She takes my hand and beams. “Roomies.”
The second Tayler leaves to go to bed, I pick up my phone. I’d turned it on at the hospital so I could call Tayler. When I did, it dinged a bunch of times. I was afraid to read anything then, but now that I’m alone, I want to see if any of them are from Cooke. Hitting the message app, I see a couple from Luke sent not long after I stormed out of Cy’s. But there are none from Cooke. Damn.
Luke: I’m sorry. I was an ass. I deserved that. Don’t quit. You’re a good bartender.
Then another one from Luke.
Luke: Having a Kardashian ass isn’t an insult, by the way. People pay thousands of dollars for that ass. You got it for free. (I assume.)
God, what an idiot. I quickly sho
ot him a text.
Me: My ass was home grown, thankyouverymuch. I won’t quit, but I was run off the road tonight, and I’m pretty beat up and now wearing a boot, so we’ll have to talk about it when I can come back.
Then I decide to put myself out there about my best friend.
Me: And by the way… WTF are you doing with Tayler? She’s not a booty call kind of girl. She’s the forever kind.
Okay, I said it. It’s done.
Luke: I know.
If he knows, then what is he doing? Gah! Men are so frustrating.
I glance down at my screen and see a bunch from Kat, sent a few minutes ago.
Kat: Okay. Have a fun slumber party.
Then another one immediately following that one.
Kat: Wait. Why was your scooter just dropped off by that hot cop? Where are you?
Kat: I went out to move it into the garage for you. What happened to it? It’s all smashed up.
Kat: CALL ME!!!!
Me: I’m fine. Had a little accident. Tayler picked me up from the ER. I’m fine.
Kat: The ER???!!! I’m telling Patsy.
Me: Please don’t wake up Patsy or anyone else. I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I’m beat. Just took a pain pill and need to sleep.
Kat: A PAIN PILL???!!!
Me: I’m fine.
Kat: You promise?
Me: Promise.
Kat: Ok. I guess.
Me: Night, Kat.
Kat: Night, Quinn.
Chapter Forty
I’ve got the girls in the living room for a powwow a few days after my accident. In that short time, a lot has happened. First, the driver of the SUV had insurance. Unfortunately, the guy was a huge asshole. The officer who wrote out the accident report had to remind him, several times, that he could have killed me. I don’t think the guy cared one way or the other. The good news is his insurance company is paying to repair Bluebelle and taking care of my hospital bills. They also offered me a settlement, but I’m hesitant to take it. Gage told me not to be naïve, saying, “It’s how these things work.”
