Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“I think that might be the driver’s blood?” Since I’m unsure, I sound that way. “But I’ll make sure we pass on our details.”
He nods, pleased by my maturity before he does all the necessary checks so he can move the patient onto a stretcher and load her into the back of the first responder truck.
“Where are you taking her?”
Once he has the portable equipment switched out for wired ones, he asks, “Do you know her?”
Hair falls in front of my eye when I shake my head. “But I’d like to check on her.”
He smiles like I gave him the key to the kingdom. “We will take her to St. Mary’s. Tell them you saved her life. It should see you spared the ‘only family’ spiel.”
“Thanks, I will.” I return his smile before stepping back so a first responder can join him in the cab and his partner can climb into the driver’s seat.
I watch their departure until the lights are mere flickers in the distance and the adrenaline surging through my veins almost becomes too much to bear. There’s a thrill associated with every tragedy that keeps your legs moving despite their request to collapse. It’s usually closely followed by remorse.
Although, as my eyes stray across the carnage still unveiling itself, I wonder if I have experienced my emotions the wrong way around. Even with both motorists’ lungs still accepting air, the mood is somber and dark.
Even more so when I spot Cash’s stalk back to his frat house.
“Cash.”
My feet don’t budge an inch when my elbow is seized in a firm grip, and I’m held back. “You should probably give him a minute.” Kamil looks even more remorseful now than he did when he spotted the female passenger several feet behind me. “This will be hitting a little too close to home for him.” My brows barely taper, but they must spell out my confusion. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready.” He stops, scrunches up his face, then continues, “Or maybe he won’t. He doesn’t expose that side of himself very often.” The harshness of his tone seems nowhere near as impacting when he murmurs, “Although he may for you.” He shrugs as if silently deliberating with himself before saying, “But I’d still suggest giving him some time. His head space isn’t good right now.”
“How long do you think he’ll need?”
Again, he shrugs. “A week. A month. Who knows?”
“He doesn’t have a week, Kamil. Not if he wants to play.” I asked Professor Ren why Cash was so desperate for me to tutor him. At first, she made out it was because he loves numbers as much as me. It took one side-eye for her to cave.
If Cash doesn’t pass his next test, he can’t play at all this season. If ever again.
It is as simple and as heartbreaking as that.
“I know. I just…” Kamil strays his eyes in the direction Cash just walked before breathing out slowly. “Just give him some time, Einstein. He’ll come out soon.”
It kills me, but I jerk up my chin.
Chapter 13
McKayla
With my adrenaline still high and my curiosity eased within an hour of the crash victims arriving at the hospital, I toss off my bedding, then slip out of bed.
Both the driver and the passenger will survive their injuries, although the driver will need extensive dental work to replace the teeth he lost during ‘impact.’
Since it was only Kamil, Cash’s frat brothers, and me who witnessed Cash’s beat down at the crash site, the first responders assumed the driver’s bloody mouth was caused by him head-butting the windshield his girlfriend flew out of when they collided with the tree.
In a way, they were lucky. If they weren’t so heavily intoxicated, they would have fought the bone-crushing pull of the accident more, and their injuries could have been far worse.
That’s why drunk drivers rarely die in traffic incidents. Their sluggish movements follow the twists and turns of the wreckage. They don’t fight against them as someone with a normal blood- alcohol level would.
It takes me searching my side of the dorm from top to bottom before I recall the last place I saw my backpack. I left it on Cash’s bedroom floor.
It could remain there until the morning, but with it barely hitting nine and my impatience as perverse as my wish to make sure Cash is okay, I throw a jacket over the outfit I placed on after showering for almost thirty minutes before trudging out the door.
As I cross the grassed lawn at the front of my dormitory, I tug my jacket in close. It isn’t cold. I just can’t drum out my mother’s warnings about maintaining my safety while walking through the campus.
It is unfortunate that we’re no longer in a time where you can wander freely and not have to wonder if your outfit is too risqué for men who should know better than to judge a woman on the clothes she’s wearing.