“What happened, Oz?” She’s brushing my hair away from my face. It’s loose around my shoulders, and I hate it.
I pull it back with one hand, grimacing as that motion shoots pain through me, harsh despite the medicine. “I got cut off on the I-40. This ass**le in a Corvette. He didn’t even look as he got on the freeway. He was f**king texting. Never even saw me. A semi was on the other side, so I couldn’t avoid him, and there was another semi behind me. Hit the shoulder, tire went out from beneath me. I couldn’t—there wasn’t anything else I could do but put it down.” I blink against the tightness in my throat as I recall the accident.
Flashes of memory hit me like lightning. The driver of the Corvette, face lit by the glow of his phone. The semi behind me, so close, blaring its horn and trying to swerve. I don’t even know if anyone stopped to help, to see if we were okay. I don’t remember seeing anyone, but my memory is hazy. All I remember is pain, and Kylie bleeding and trying to breathe, and my bike in the distance, tire spinning.
I blink again, and try to shake the images away.
Fuck.
“I couldn’t do anything, Mom. It was an accident. I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to happen. I tried to stop it, tried to keep her safe.” My throat hurts, burns, and my eyes are hot and heavy.
Mom’s arms go around me. “I know, sweetie. It was an accident. I know. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”
“I need to see her.” I glance up at the nurse, Marie. “I need to see her, please.”
“Of course.” Marie moves behind me, pushes me through the door and down the hallway, around several corners.
Mom trails a step behind and to my left, sneakers squeaking on the floor. The hallway echoes with the distorted voice of someone paging someone else. Other nurses pass by going the opposite way, emerge from doors, charts in hand, converse behind desks, tap at keyboards.
Then we’re pushing through a doorway, into a dimly lit room identical to mine. A bed, a chair, a monitor turned off, no leads connected. Kylie is sitting up in bed, talking to Colt, who sits in the chair, drawn close to her bed. They both glance at me, and Colt straightens from leaning toward Kylie, stands up, moves toward me.
I’m scared. I wish I could stand up, but I’m dizzy and lightheaded, and it still hurts. “Colt…Mr. Calloway.” I glance past him at Kylie, and all I want is to go to her.
But Colt is standing in front of me, looming over me. His blue eyes, so much like Kylie’s, are tight, narrow, concerned. “Oz. You okay?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I will be.” I blink up at him. “I—I’m sorry. I’m so—so sorry. It happened so fast. So f**king fast. I tried, but there was nothing—nothing I could—”
A heavy hand touches my shoulder, rests there. “I know, Oz. It was an accident. Kylie told me what happened. You did everything you could. No one blames you.” He squeezed my shoulder and let go. “You’re both alive, and that’s all that matters.”
I blame me, I don’t say.
“Oz.” Kylie’s voice breaks through the tense silence. “Come over here, Oz.” She glances at her dad, the nurse, Mom. “Can we have a few minutes?”
Marie rolls me as close to Kylie’s bed as I can get, and then they all leave, closing the door.
I reach out with my free hand and take hers. “Kylie. God, baby. I’m so sorry. I should never have—I almost got you killed.” I look at her, and my eyes burn again. “I’m so sorry, Kylie. So sorry.”
She reaches out with both hands, puts her fingers over my lips. “It wasn’t your fault, Oz. It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could.” She swallowed hard. “It was so scary, Oz. You were—there was blood everywhere. I thought you were going to die. I thought—I thought you were going to bleed to death. There was just so much f**king blood, and—and I couldn’t breathe—” She stops, blinks, wipes at her eyes. “But you’re okay, and I’m okay. We’re okay, right? Everything’s okay.”
I try so f**king hard to keep my eyes clear, but the pain-relieving medication does something to me, and although it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, the thickness and the heat in my throat, the burning, the residual fear in her lovely azure eyes and the way she’s tense and stiff and clearly in pain…it conspires against me, and I just can’t stop the tear from sliding down my face. Fucking crying like a sissy, but I can’t help it, and Kylie’s hand wipes across my face.
“No, Oz. You can’t do that. It’s all okay.” She blinks and wipes my face again, runs her thumb across my lips. “Accidents happen, and we’re okay.”
“Yeah, we’re okay.” I breathe hard, shove it down, stop it, blink hard and blink hard and blink hard, squeeze my eyes shut, swallow the lump, breathe deep and steady myself. “I was just so scared I’d gotten you killed. They took you, and I didn’t know what happened to you.”
“I’ve got two broken ribs, and a couple more are bruised. Some cuts and scratches. A few stitches on my left leg. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.” She looks me over, and worry fills her eyes. “That chair—you’re not—you’re not…Oz…please tell me you’re not—” She can’t even say it.
I shake my head and move both of my legs for her, wiggle my toes. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m just…it hurts, and I had some drugs for the pain, which is making me a little lightheaded. I’m fine.”
Marie comes in right then. “You both need to rest.”
“One more minute,” I say, and Marie nods, closes the door. I lean in, kiss Kylie on the lips. It’s soft and slow and sweet, and I want to get lost in her kiss, but I can’t.
She hisses and has to straighten. “Holy shit…ow. God, it hurts.” She tries to shift, trying to get more comfortable. “I’m not gonna lie, Oz. It f**king hurts so bad. Every breath, every little motion. It all hurts.”
“I’m so sorry, Ky. If I could take it from you, hurt for you, I would.”
She smiles at me, faint, tired, tight. “I know, Oz. I know.” She takes my hand and tangles our fingers together. Her eyes meet mine, burn bright and sincere. “I love you.”
That sound, her voice speaking those words to me, it erases everything else. I lean in, rest my cheek gently against her arm. “I love you, too, Kylie. So much.”