“Are you laughing at me?”
“No, no, Jacobs. I’m laughing at myself. I should have known better.” I bent down, picked up a penny from the floorboard, and tossed it into the ashtray. Running my hand over my short, dark hair, I noticed the tension in her expression hadn’t eased. “You’re just too uptight.”
“I guess you’ll never know,” she said as her whisper-quiet car pulled out to cross the intersection.
I reached out, already seeing what she would see just a half-second later, but that would be too late. The light had already turned red. She stiffened her hands on the wheel, watching helplessly as the tractor-trailer approached her driver side at forty miles per hour. Her expression turned to horror as the sound of metal twisting and cracking under impact filled the air.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my bones felt like they could snap under the pressure. I watched as glass exploded and the crumbled remains of her Prius launched toward me. The semi’s brakes whined in protest and Jacobs’ name ripped from my chest in a warning that had come too late. It was all too late.
I was used to saving people after tragedy struck, but it was easy to remove yourself from their pain when you didn’t have to witness the shock and horror of the event.
The last words Jacobs had spoken to me tumbled over and over in my subconscious as I scrambled to back my car away from the wreckage barreling toward me.
I resigned to my fate as my car propelled backward, my neck slamming against the headrest. When the semi finally came to a stop, the world stilled. The silence was more deafening than the horrific accident. It took me a few tries to open my door. Using my shoulder, I shoved my way out, rushing over to Jacobs’ mangled Prius. The sound of stones under my boots turned to broken glass. I was going to save her. I was going to save us both.
I sat in the waiting room down the hall from her room, biting at my thumbnail, my knee bobbing up and down. Nurses, doctors, and family members passed by without acknowledgment, oblivious that my entire world had shifted on its axis. Everything had changed.
“Josh,” Quinn said, appearing above me. He sat in the chair next to me and patted my shoulder. “You okay?”
I didn’t answer, staring at the floor.
“It’s going to be all right. Just hang in there, buddy.”
“She was there. She was right there, and then she wasn’t,” I said finally.
Quinn watched me, waiting for me to continue.
“I’ve been trying to get her attention since the first time I brought her a patient. She was finally talking to me, and … I can’t explain it.”
“That had to have been hard to see. It’s a miracle you’re okay.”
I cringed. “Even at the stoplight, when she was talking to me, I was thinking of ways to get her into bed.” I shook my head, disgusted. “Avery has been this un-gettable get, you know? She’s sitting there, smiling, finally acknowledging I exist, and my mind defaults back to the same douchebag shit.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Josh.” Quinn shrugged. “Avery’s a beautiful woman. All the guys at the station talk about her. She’s confident, feisty, and those eyes …”
I glowered at him.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Everyone knows you’ve had a thing for her, too. I’m just saying that just because taking her home crossed your mind, that doesn’t mean that’s all it would have been.”
I didn’t want a would have or should have. My story had no more room for regret, yet I had watched it take physical form right in front of me.
I grazed my nose with my knuckle. “This is my fault.”
Quinn shifted in his seat. “Don’t go there, Josh. You can’t take the blame for this one.”
“I was there. If I hadn’t been talking to her … I’ve told you that when people get too close—”