She nods, then with a wry smile she says, “You’re hovering.”
“Yes.”
“Do you hover over everyone you rescue?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
“Yes.”
I don’t waste our time pretending otherwise.
“Why?”
A dozen answers spring to mind, every single one true.
Because I’ve been half in love with you since Gloria said your name. Because when you smiled at the visitor center, I forgot how to form complete sentences.
Because seeing you collapse took ten years off my life.
Instead, I say, “You almost died.”
She watches me for a beat.
Then quieter—
“You saved my life.”
The ambulance hits a sharp turn causing the stretcher to shift with the motion.
I brace one hand against the mattress beside her hip to steady it. My face ends up inches from hers. The scent of wildflowers and sunscreen steals my breath.
Her breath catches and for a second all I can see are freckles. The urge to kiss her hits me so hard it nearly knocks me stupid.
Lola looks up from her phone.
“Twenty minutes out.”
I don’t move. Neither does Clover.
Twenty minutes has never felt so damn long.
Clover
By the time the nurse wheels me toward the ER exit, all I can smell is antiseptic and stale hospital sheets. My throat feels scraped raw every time I swallow, and my body is heavy with exhaustion. My discharge papers crinkle in my lap beneath my fingers while the automatic doors slide open with a mechanical hiss.
Cool evening air brushes my face and there he is.
Simon leans against a black pickup truck parked crooked beneath the yellow glow of the parking lot lights. One boot crossed over the other with a paper coffee cup resting in one calloused hand.
The mountain sunset behind him paints the sky in streaks of peach and lavender. It catches in his dirty-blonde hair and glints off the silver buckle at his waist.
He looks up, sees me, and straightens immediately. He sets the coffee on the hood of the truck with a dull thump causing the liquid to spill over the sides. A laugh escapes me before I canstop it, but it pulls at my throat enough to sting, so it dissolves into a cough.
Simon is beside me in seconds.
“Easy,” he orders, his carefree tone slipping into that same sternness I overheard when he spoke into his radio.
