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Things after that stayed clear, and she held memories of the club’s interior finally brightening as last call was shouted across the room. She’d booked them a car from an app on her phone, and one rideshare later, a still-grinning Karen had been dropped at the door of her apartment building, the vehicle smoothly pulling away from the curb and into traffic as Mya waved goodbye.
Mya was yanked from her memories when she moved slightly and a section of her arm made itself known, stinging from the contact with the bedding. She lifted her arm and stared at the broad scrape, also noticing bruises crossing her chest from shoulder to hip, the line of blue and purple partially obscured by the tattoo-lined arm still tucked firmly around her body.
That’s a seat belt bruise.
Ignoring that information and closing her eyes, Mya tried to recapture the thread of what had happened last night.
During the ride, still about a block from her small bungalow home, there’d been a sound. In retrospect, she recognized it as sliding tires on pavement. Then the car jolted violently and abruptly lifted to one side, rolling quickly until everything was upside down before coming to a sudden stop. A post appeared like magic right in front of Mya’s face, the force of the collision against the structure crushing the door in towards where she sat and smashing the glass, shards spraying directly at her face. She’d thrown her arms up to ward off the shiny shrapnel. Then everything went black.
She’d come to hanging upside down, and confused, she’d stayed in that position for a moment before scrabbling for the button to release the belt holding her in place. Somewhere nearby, there was a shout.
That’s where things went dim again. She remembered striking her head hard against the inside of the car when she fell, and had vaguely heard groaning from the front seat, likely the college student who’d been driving the car. But she didn’t think she’d passed out again.
Memories of bright lights and loud siren sounds meshed in a painful cacophony that again bounced around inside her brain.
The door opposite where she’d lay crumpled had been wrenched open with a squeal of tortured metal, and then arms had reached through the opening. People in uniforms were crowding the space, each issuing a different command. Through all the confusion in her head, it was the tone of a single familiar voice that triggered a new memory, overriding the multiple voices and telling her to stay still, that they’d get her out. For an instant, she’d been a child again, following the back tire of her best friend’s bike as they rode through the woods on a deer trail.
She’d shaken that off and, ignoring all their suggestions, had rolled to a low crouch and duckwalked her way to the open door. That single voice had spoken again, chiding her to be careful, to watch her head, to take it slow, and when she’d made it to the street and stood upright, the face matching the voice hadn’t been what she’d expected.
Growing up as Mya had out in the country, kids couldn’t be picky about who their friends were. Anyone living within a mile or so was typically considered viable playmates regardless of age differences, and most friendships made in this way lasted decades. Those were the kind of friends where months or years could pass without a visit, and still conversations would be free and easy the instant contact was renewed.
Kade Martinez had lived one road over, and after the first time they’d met, there’d soon been a beaten path through the pastures and woods between their houses. Mya had been as comfortable at Kade’s house as she had her own. More comfortable, maybe. They’d been besties.
The familiar and reassuring voice had belonged to him. Here. Thousands of miles away from where they’d both grown up. And now, just at the moment when she needed comfort and steadiness in the worst way, he’d appeared as if summoned from thin air.
Mya now lay on the soft mattress, held in place against the large male body behind her, and tried to remember the last time she’d seen Kade. High school definitely, and most probably the day of their graduation.
She hadn’t told any of her classmates her plans, knowing they’d leak the info to someone, and then her parents would find out. Or worse, Kade might. Either could have been catastrophic.
Her parents had made their expectations clear. She should start working full-time immediately, with her paychecks being signed over as her part-time job wages had been. And Kade? Well, it had just been better that way. A clean break.
The day after their graduating class had walked the stage, shaking hands with school officials and confidently moving tassels from one side to the other, Mya had shoved her already packed bags into the small pickup truck bought in her name, and driven away, headed for a summer semester of classes in a university on the other edge of the country. Her grades and interests earning her a full-ride scholarship to a place no one would suspect she’d known about, much less applied to.
That long drive had been full of doubt and worry, but then, from the first moment she’d seen the ocean, its uneven roiling surface lined with waves riding into the coastline and up the sands, the sound of birds and wind and life—she’d been hooked. It was as different from home as it could be, and she’d loved it.
No shouting, no lifted fists—just the serenity of the water.
By the time she’d been ready for post-graduate work, her match for a residency program had shifted her barely a little farther down the coast from those first years. Eventually, she’d decided she liked the new city well enough to accept a position in a practice that wound up being just a few blocks down the street from her little rental house.
Now, here she was, three thousand-odd miles away and two decades later, apparently fully embedded in one of the best fantasies her teenaged self could have ever imagined.
In bed with Kade Martinez. Who’d have thought?
As she’d stood next to the mangled car, staring up into hazel eyes she’d once tried to count all the amber flecks in, the man—Kade—had lost his composure for only a moment before a smooth and confident professional persona had clicked into place.
For that barest moment, she’d seen raw pain and banked anger cross his features, those plush lips she’d imagined kissing a thousand times flexing into a straight white line. The beard was new, and Mya found she didn’t mind it at all, as the trimmed evidence of his maturity framed his face well. With his tattooed hand under her elbow, she’d allowed Kade to steer her to the back of an ambulance, taking a seat on the bumper at his quiet request.
The pounding in her temples renewed suddenly, and Mya groaned softly, letting the memory flow away for now.
At the sound, the man behind her stirred, his arm tightening around her ribs for a second, fingers curling against her skin.
Kade Martinez was in her bed.
Surreal.
Kade, who’d turned down her stumbling invitation to their senior prom, and took the football quarterback instead.
Kade, who she’d loved since before she’d even understood what the emotion twisting through her chest meant.
