“See?” I hold the phone out to Axel’s dad. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. I have no way to…”
The phone clatters to the ground as it’s slapped out of my hand. “I told you, boy, I’d rather have cash than his jerseys.”
“Axel never agreed to give you money.” I press my back against the door, which only puts a couple of inches between us.
“It’s not him I’m talkin’ to.”
“I don’t have any cash.” I shake my head back and forth to emphasize my words.
His eyes narrow into slits as he leans forward. “Bullshit,” he snarls, as drops of spit flings across my face. “I saw how often you opened that little register. Let’s take a walk inside and have a peek at that drawer.”
“It’s not there. We take it to the night drop at the bank every night.”
“You think I haven’t been watching this place for days now? I know you don’t take anything to the bank until the next day. Give me the cash.”
“I told you—"
I sense the hand coming toward my face too late to move out of the way, and even though I brace at the last second, pain explodes on my cheek when his fist makes contact. My head whips to the side as I absorb the punch, making the ground seem to sway. The dizziness lasts for only a second, but just as I’m balling my hand into a fist to fight back I’m hit with another blow. And another. Then darkness surrounds me.
***
The figure in front of me is blurry around the edges, making it hard to recognize, although I feel like I should. I shut my eyes briefly before opening them again, shedding the fuzziness with each blink until the leanly muscled frame comes into focus. “Axel?”
He spins around to face me, eyes wide with…hope?
Taking my hand in his he sits in the chair next to the bed as a man in a white lab coat comes forward, studying my face intently.
“Thank God you’re awake. I was so worried.” Axel raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers as his eyes lift to the man hovering next to me. “It’s a good sign that he’s awake already, right?”
“Concussions are tricky.” I flinch as the man shines a bright light in my eyes. “How are you feeling, Lennon? Can you talk?”
“Con…consuss…” I try to clear my throat, noticing for the first time how dry it is.
Axel reaches for a cup on the bedside table and holds a straw to my lips.
“You have a grade three concussion.” I close my eyes briefly to stave off the nausea as I turn to look at the man who must be my doctor. “We did an MRI and determined you didn’t have any internal bleeding, but you’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for the better part of the last twenty-four hours, and you’ve got a nasty lump on the back of your head. Fortunately, Axel got you here pretty quickly so we could manage the swelling.”
Slowly I angle my head so I can see Axel, blinking as I try to make sense of the doctor’s words. “I don’t remember getting on the plane.”
“What plane, Lennon?” Axel strokes the side of my cheek.
“The one to Texas.” I sigh heavily.Why does talking make it hard to breathe?
“Texas?” His brows pull together slightly. “You were coming to see me?”
“Why else would I go to Texas?” I close my eyes to block the glare from the fluorescent lights.
“We aren’t in Texas, babe. We’re in Colorado.”
“We’re supposed to be in Texas,” I whisper as the darkness takes me again.
***
My pillow smells faintly of diesel. And soap. And why is it so firm?
I try to roll over only to realize my entire body is pressed against the same hard mass that’s cradling my head.Axel.
My startled breath draws his attention, and his hand gently brushes the hair from my face. “Hi.” His lips are tender on my forehead.
