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“I was handling it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Did anyone else in there try some ‘banter’ with you?”
Knowing a bunch of people would lose their jobs if I told him what happened, I instead replied, “No.”
Dane put his face close to mine. “I want their names.”
“Nobody said—”
“Don’t lie to me, Vienna. I want every name, and I want to know everything they said. You can tell me about it in the car.” Dane took my hand and began to lead me across the wide road. “Is this going to become a thing now?”
I frowned. “What?”
“You not coming straight home from work.”
“No more than you returning to o-Verve or attending late dinner meetings has become a thing, I’m sure,” I said primly. As we reached the center of the road, I dropped my purse. “Shit.” I bent down and grabbed it.
Hearing an engine rev up and tires screeching, I looked to see a pair of blinding headlights speeding through a red light while swaying almost drunkenly. The jeep collided with another car, sending it skidding along the road … toward us.
I froze for what felt like endless seconds as an old memory hit me hard. But I snapped out of it when Dane began yanking me toward the curb.
I could hear the car still skidding toward us. I could smell the burn of rubber chafing the ground. It slowed to a halt just as we reached the sidewalk. It was right then that my heel caught on something and I tripped.
Only Dane’s grip on my hand stopped me from falling flat on my face on the sidewalk. Stumbling, I reflexively threw out my free hand to help brace myself, hissing as my palm scraped along the ground.
Dane helped me stand upright and looked me over, his face hard. “You okay?”
My heart pounding, I blinked at him. “I’m fine. You?”
He gave a curt nod.
I looked at the two cars and took in the crumpled metal and ghost-white faces of the passengers that were jerkily sliding out of both vehicles. None looked badly hurt, but one had a vicious cut above their eye.
Dane slid an arm around my waist. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You sure you’re okay? You’re pale.”
I licked my lips. “Yeah, I’m good. I … I was hit by a car when I was nine and, yeah, the past and present kind of fused for a second, but I’m okay.”
He led me to the car, assured Sam we were both fine, and ushered me onto the rear passenger seat. Sliding in beside me, he took my hand in his, and I flinched. Frowning, he looked at my palm.
“It’s just a graze from where I tried to steady myself when I almost fell.” It stung like a bitch.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, feeling slightly chilled. It was only then I realized I was shaking a little.
Dane’s arm came around me, warm and strong. He gently drew me to him and tucked me into his side. “Settle,” he said, smoothing his hand up and down my arm. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose.”
“I know, it’s just the adrenaline. You’ll be all right.”
I shamelessly burrowed into him. “At least all the passengers were okay.”
“Hmm. You were hit by a car when you were nine?”
I nodded.
“How badly were you hurt?”
“I had a broken leg, a skull fracture, and some bruises. I didn’t really feel the pain until I got to the hospital. I was in shock.” I could still remember how numb and disconnected I’d felt. Could remember how everything around me had seemed so distant. The driver and bystanders had talked to me gently, but I hadn’t really been able to absorb their words.
“I kept telling the driver—man, the guy was a mess—that I was okay to walk home,” I added. “What’s weird is that it all happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to feel scared. And yet, I had nightmares for months after.”
His arm tightened around me. “I’m pretty sure anyone would have.”
Silence fell between us. I stayed snuggled into Dane, letting his body heat chase away the chill in my bones. At one point, he dug out his cell phone. I rolled my eyes. We’d almost been hit by a car and he was casually answering work emails. Typical.
We soon arrived at the estate. By then, my heartbeat had steadied, and the full-on body shakes had faded to a faint tremor in my hands.
Inside the house, Dane gently guided me into the kitchen and lifted me onto a stool at the island. “Be still.” He examined the smarting graze on my palm. “It’s not deep, and there’s no gravel in it.”
“It doesn’t hurt badly.”
“It might when the adrenaline fully bleeds out of your system.”
“You should ice those knuckles.” They were red and a little swollen from the punch he’d delivered to Jeff’s jaw.
