by Lila Ashe
“Whoa,” Grace said. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry.” He jerked himself back to the conversation. Normal people didn’t think things like that. He always forgot. “It’s just …”
“Just what?”
Tox met Grace’s eyes. She looked at him like she really wanted to know what he was thinking. Like it meant something, the next thing he said. And instead of saying what he was thinking—that nothing mattered anyway, that nothing good lasted—he said, “It’s just that you should really have one of these fries. They’re the best on the coast.”
“Well, okay, then,” Grace said. Her voice was happy, and the look on her face as she closed her eyes matched.
He didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Then the car crashed into the pier behind Grace.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Grace felt, rather than heard, the noise.
A cacophony of sound—screams, guttural cries for help—split the air.
Tox who’d been facing the accident, was up and running before Grace had even fully turned around in her seat.
A small black car—expensive looking with custom rims, the kind rich tourists drove through town—had broken through the pier’s barrier and had driven at least fifty feet down the pier before hitting the rail, smashing partially through it. The car was balanced, teetering. It looked as if a strong wind might blow it all the way off and down to the water below. Inside, Grace could see that the airbags had deployed but it was impossible to tell how many people were still in the car.
People were running toward the crash, but Tox moved faster than anyone else. He stopped to check a woman who was bleeding from the face. He said something to her, and flagged another person down. Grace heard him say, “Direct pressure. Keep it there,” and then he ran to the car.
From inside the vehicle came a sharp scream.
Tox turned around and looked right at Grace, and somehow, she knew.
“Samantha,” she breathed, and then Grace was running, too, faster than she ever knew she could, straight down the pier. The car had struck several people, and she didn’t care about their injuries. They didn’t matter.
Only getting to the car mattered.
“You’re going to help me,” said Tox.
His words didn’t matter, either. “Sam! Samantha!” Grace could see her sister’s hair, her head at a strange angle in the front seat. The driver—whoever he was—looked as if he was waking up, turning his head in confusion.
“Grace!” barked Tox. “I need you.” A piece of the pier, part of the railing, broke off next to his elbow and sailed downward, toward the crashing waves.
Grace’s hand rested on the glass of the passenger window, as close as she could get to her sister. “Okay. Anything. Tell me,” she said. The lower part of the door was warped, the handle sheared off by hitting something. How would they ever …
Tox touched her arm. His hand was warm. Reassuring. As if everything was okay, which it obviously wasn’t. “We need to secure the car. I don’t want anyone to come near it, I don’t trust the weight.” As if listening to him, the pier gave an ominous creak below their feet. “I need you to keep them back.” He gestured at the crowd gathering.
But Grace couldn’t do that. “No. I’m getting her out.” She turned her head to yell through the glass. “You hear that, Sam? We’re getting you out!” She pulled on the handle of the back passenger door of the car.
“Don’t touch anything!” warned Tox, grabbing her hand.
“Tox—”
He pointed at the front, where the bumper was hanging treacherously over the water. “If we shift the load, we could send it right off. The water isn’t deep enough here, and it’ll go ass-deep in the sand ten feet under, trapping them. We won’t be able to get them out in time, not if they can’t get themselves out.”
Grace looked at her sister’s head, still unmoving.
“The only thing we can do is keep the car as still as possible. I’m going to the other side to talk to the driver, to get him not to move. Do you know who he is?”
“Not a clue.” Some loser? Some dealer? Samantha had been doing so well, too.
A man wearing a yellow t-shirt approached her, his hands out, face pale. “What can I do?”
“Keep everyone away. Keep them back,” said Grace. She swiveled her head, moving between looking at Tox and her sister. Tox was doing a great job of keeping the driver calm. Over the crashing of the waves and of the crowd, she couldn’t hear his words, but the man was nodding slowly at whatever he was saying.
“The fire department will be here soon,” she said to the man who wanted to help. “Can you go out and direct them? Move people out of the way and make sure they can get through.”
Looking pleased to be put to use, the man pushed his way through the crowd, waving his hands. “Make way! Out of the way!”
Grace felt the planks rumble beneath her feet.
Tox looked over the top of the sedan. “The pier’s unstable. Getting them back isn’t enough. Get everyone all the way off.”
“And leave Sam?” Grace shook her head. She’d hold the car up here with her own two hands if she had to.
“Grace, I need you to do this. I know you can do this.”
“I know I can do it,” she snapped. “That’s not the issue. I’m not leaving my sister.”
“I’m with her,” he said. She could barely hear him over the roar of blood in her ears. “I’m not going anywhere. I need you to get back. Get them all off the pier. Make sure they’re safe.”
If it had been anyone else but Tox, she never would have done it. Grace knew she probably would have broken the back window and crawled inside the vehicle, no matter its instability, and stayed with Samantha. If the car had crashed down from the pier, at least she would have been inside it with the person she loved the most in the world. Holding her hand as they both died.
But Tox was right. None of them were safe, and what in the world would it do to Samantha if she woke up in the hospital just to find out her sister had been stupid, dying in an accident with strangers, an accident that could have been prevented.
The pier gave another baleful creak.
“Everyone, back!” Grace yelled in her loudest voice, the one she hadn’t use since she’d captained the crew team in college. It had the same effect as it had then. People’s eyes snapped to her and they did what she said. “The pier might go, we need you off.” The man in yellow who had wanted to help raced to the far end of the pier to herd those tourists past the wreck to safety. Grace had to physically take a video camera out of a father-of-four’s hands. “Go!”
The first engine made the turn onto First Street, followed by a fire truck and a red SUV. The sirens wailed, matching the sound Grace heard in her blood.
From the safety of the concrete sidewalk, Grace kept her eyes on the car. The front wheels had stopped their mid-air spin, and even though she heard the pier groan, Grace felt that if she concentrated hard enough, she could keep it standing with the will of her mind. How many times had she saved Samantha that way in the past? On long nights after Sam had failed to come home? That one time she hadn’t called in a month because she’d been taken to Mexico on a lark by some rich guy’s drug-dealing son? She’d been okay then. It had to work one more time.
Tox had the flat of his hand on the car’s roof, somehow able to wait patiently for his backup. He looked relaxed, as if he was just chatting to the guy in the car about the beautiful sunset that was dropping behind him. Then he met Grace’s eyes. He smiled slightly and nodded.
Grace’s knees went wobbly, and she sat on the ground hard, cross-legged. She closed her eyes for a second, imagining the air solidifying, holding up Samantha. Holding up Tox.
After they’d extricated Samantha—still unconscious—and the man with the dark hair in the driver’s seat, Grace grabbed her sister’s hand and refused to let go, even when they were inserting her IV. Even when the car—now mercifully unoccupied—took a slow, dramatic he
ader into the water below, taking a large section of the pier with it, she didn’t let go of Samantha.
One of Tox’s coworkers told Grace she couldn’t ride in the ambulance. Grace just looked at him and then stepped around him, pulling herself up into it, sitting on the bench seat next to Samantha. Tox got in behind her.
As the ambulance rolled with lights and sirens, Grace prayed—again, harder this time—that her sister would be okay.
She knew that when she had time to think about it, she’d be grateful for Tox being next to her. She’d be so grateful for his warmth next to her, his strength, the solid bulk of him. As the ambulance raced around a corner, she was pressed into his side.
Tox’s arm went around her, tightly.
“The dog!” Grace gasped. “Methyl! In the back of your truck, in her crate!”
“Sims Madigan is taking her to my house. He knows where I keep the key. Don’t worry about her.” Tox pressed a kiss against her temple. “Just keep holding Samantha’s hand, just like you’re doing. You’re doing great, honey. Don’t let go of either of us, okay?”
She wouldn’t. No.
Grace held on.
CHAPTER TWENTY
In the hospital, six hours later, Samantha woke up. Grace burst into tears as soon as her sister’s eyes opened, and so did Samantha. Sam dashed her hands at her face. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Where am I?”
Grace tried to answer, to choke back her tears, and was astonished to find that she couldn’t say anything. Her voice got stuck in her throat and she coughed.
Samantha pulled at the bedclothes and looked, wild-eyed, to Tox. “Does she need the inhaler? Can you give it to her again?”
Grace shook her head.
Tox stepped forward, putting his hand on the rail of Samantha’s hospital bed. “She’s fine. I think Grace is upset about you, that’s all. You were in a car accident.”
“The car—” gasped Grace “—it fell. Into the ocean. The car you were in fell into the ocean.”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “How’s Justin?”
“Who cares about Justin?” said Grace, feeling anger settle into her bones. Her sister was doing it again. Falling for some loser who would end up hurting her, or worse. “You almost died. You came so close to death. How can I—” she broke off and turned her face away, looking at the ugly green privacy curtain. Her sister was injured. They could hash this out later. It wasn’t important now.
In a calm voice, Tox said, “Justin’s going to be okay. He’s in surgery right now for internal bleeding but the doctor told me before they went in that it looked like a clean fix.”
Samantha glanced down at her body in the bed. “I hurt. But I don’t know where …”
“You got pretty smashed up,” said Tox. He gestured at her face. “You’re going to be black and blue for a couple of weeks. You were out for a while. But the doctor couldn’t find evidence of bleeding or broken bones. You’re staying overnight to make sure they’re right and to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“What?”
Grace took a deep breath and tried to keep it level. Neutral. She didn’t want her terror—or her anger—to come through. “We were there. At the pier.”
Sam’s eyes brightened. “Oh! On your date!”
Oh, sometimes she looked so like Mom that it hurt Grace’s heart. Especially when she was bruising like this, Grace realized. At the end of their mother’s life, her face had almost always looked just the same, puffy and mottled.
“How was it?” Sam glanced at Tox, her grin wide. “Okay, tell me later. But I can’t wait to hear.”
Grace felt the blush spread across her face.
Tox fiddled with the bed rail. “You gotta make sure these are secure.”
“I’m not a baby. I’m not going to roll out in the middle of the night. Oh, my gosh,” said Samantha. “You’re both turning red.”
“Let’s just put it this way,” said Tox. “It was the most exciting date I’ve ever been on. And technically, I think we’re still on it.”
“Oh!” said Samantha in delight.
“Sam! He means it was exciting because we almost watched you die.”
“Oh.” Sam’s eyes were downcast again. “Was anyone else hurt?”
“No one critically. Some bumps and bruises.” Who is the driver? The words sat on the tip of Grace’s tongue, but she bit them back.
There was a soft knock at the door. An extremely tall firefighter with a head of bushy brown hair entered. “Hey. We were picking up a backboard the medics left, and I wanted to check on the patient.”
Samantha said softly, “Hank, hi.”
And as Grace watched, fascinated, her sister turned into someone else. Her color—under the bruising—went soft pink. This wasn’t the same Hank Samantha had dated a long time ago, when she was taking classes at the local junior college, was it? That guy had been geeky. Skinnier than a needle in her clinic. This man, though, had the muscle to balance his height. He looked like a professional football player.
Tox bumped fists with the man. “’Sup, Hank?”
“This is what you get for taking a day off, huh?”
Tox said, “It was fine until I onviewed the collision on the pier.”
“You were there? Accidentally? Man, they don’t call you the crap magnet for nothing, huh?” Hank turned to Samantha. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” said Samantha in that same soft voice.
Grace leaned forward. “I’m her sister. Grace. I think we met once …”
“Oh, yeah,” said Hank.
But he barely looked at her.
Grace stared. She remembered loving that her sister had finally been dating someone normal. He’d been going for his fire science degree. He hadn’t been a drug dealer or a gambler, a nice change of pace. Once, when Samantha was living in Florida, she’d dated a dirty cop, for heaven’s sake. Or at least that’s what she’d told Grace on the phone, which meant the reality might have been even worse. This guy, Hank, had been nice. Grace couldn’t remember what had happened to end things.
“Anyway. You have my cell.”
Sam had Hank’s cell number? Her sister was full of surprises today, and this guy was the only nice surprise so far.
“Call me if you need anything.” Hank paused, tugging on his ear. “Anything at all.”
“As long as he’s not on shift,” Tox said.
“Hey, I’m on shift now,” said Hank. “I’ll make the guys get in the rig with me, even if you just need ice cream.”
There it was again, Grace noticed. That pretty pink coloring. Yeah, there was so much she needed to talk to her sister about.
Samantha yawned.
But the time for talk wasn’t now. “Okay, boys,” she said, shooing them like chickens with her hands. “Out, out. She needs rest.”
Tox rubbed his neck and frowned. “You’re right. We’re out of here. Feel better.”
Grace kissed Samantha’s cheek and told her she’d see her first thing in the morning. “You’re all right here? Because I’ll stay if you’re not.”
“No, I just want to sleep. I’m halfway there already.” Sam yawned again and waggled her fingers at them as they left. From the doorway, Grace blew her a kiss, just like their mother always had.
Sam smiled sleepily and caught it, pressing it to her cheek.
In the hallway, Grace wobbled.
“Whoops, sit down for a minute,” said Tox, grabbing at her upper arm.
She shook him off. “I’m fine. I just …” She just what? Just realized how close she had come to losing her last remaining blood relation? The person she loved the most? “No, I want to go home.”
Hank was already striding down the hallway toward another firefighter, raising his hand in a wave.
Tox nodded, keeping his hand at her elbow. “Good. I think it’s time. Let’s go.”
For a moment, just for a second, Grace had forgotten their date, and the fact that technically, they were still on it. “Your truck. I
t’s still at the pier.” They’d ridden to the hospital, both of them, in the back of the ambulance.
“Crap. Hang on.”
Ten minutes later, Grace had taken a ride on the engine. It was completely different from the ride in the ambulance—the engine was utilitarian inside. She sat in an empty jumpseat, and they’d put a headset over her ears so she could hear them talking to each other over the roar of the engine. The four men chatted about something shift-related that she didn’t follow, something about the mandations imminent on B-shift. She tuned them out and looked out the small window next to her, watching the world stare at the fire engine as they passed by. It felt like being a celebrity, the way people waved at them. Also over the headset, she heard a woman’s voice say something about a medical on Turk Street.
She pushed the button they’d shown her to talk. “Don’t you all have to go to the medical before they drop us off?”
Hank, sitting in the jumpseat opposite her, laughed. “That’s for Engine 3. If we’d been dispatched on that, you would be holding on for dear life, what with Luke driving today. And you’d be thanking your stars that Tox was back there with you. He’s the worst driver of all of us.”
“Hey!” Tox said and thumped Hank on the arm with a closed fist. Hank flipped him off.
Grace felt something jolt through her—she was sitting next to Tox. In a fire engine. Her sister was alive, alive, alive, and she would be fine. She looked out at the line of the ocean, where the water met the sky miles away, and the expanse of it, the whitecapped beauty, made her laugh out loud with joy. “Can you turn the siren on?”
Hank shook his head. “Wish I could, but it’s not allowed unless we’re running a code three call.”
Tox put his hand to his headphone. “What’s that? Did dispatch just send us to a car fire?”
Grace hadn’t heard anything in her ears.
“Hit it, Luke.”
In the driver’s seat, Luke whooped and the siren matched him. The engine roared as it sped up. If Grace peered carefully around the huge driver’s seat she was hidden behind, she could see cars in front of them, pulling obediently over. She laughed again, and next to her, Tox’s grin looked like it must be hurting his head, he was smiling so hard.
