The sun has only just set, so the sky is painted a deep blue, littered with rain clouds. I’m sure that guy is her uncle, but I nudge Scarlett, urging her to look in my direction, just to make sure.
“That’s him,” she says, unclipping her seatbelt. I start to unclip mine. “You stay here. He probably wants to talk in the restaurant.”
“Scarlett, ifanythinghappens - and I mean,anything- let me know, okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “How? Do you want me to scream or tell you telepathically?”
“Scarlett,” I press. "This isn't a joke."
“I can handle myself, Branson.”
“I know. Just…Just be safe.”
She nods and with that, she slips out of the car, rounding it to my side where she stands, giving me a thumbs up. She’s suddenly too relaxed. I don't like it. She grins at me like this is such a normal thing. Unless she knows deep down that her uncle is a safe person to be around.
The thought of anything happening to her is too terrifying to risk not being protective right now. I know she’s strong. I know she’s resilient. I know she’s brave, but there’s a part of me that feels the need to be near her all the time, making sure she doesn’tget hurt.
That’s why my heart almost falls out my chest as she walks towards the sidewalk, and she trips over her shoelaces.
Immediately, I open the door, my heart pounding as I try to get to her. She didn’t fall into the road, thank goodness. But it was close. Too close. Cars still whizz past, no one stopping to check if she’s okay.
“You okay?” I pant when I get to her, clasping my hand over her elbow. She turns to me, and I can tell she’s pissed at me for not staying put.
“I’m fine, Branson. Jesus. Do you listen to anything I tell you?” She argues, bending down to tie her shoes. I sigh, knowing that she’s fine and I look back up across the road to where her uncle was standing.
Everything happens too fast.
Gio must have had the same thought to help Scarlett as she tripped over. A black car with frosted windows speeds down the street and I hear a crunch. A snap. I flinch.
It takes me a few seconds to register the screech of tires, the gasp that escapes my throat and the body on the floor. My heartbeat is all I hear as the rest of the world goes quiet.
Scarlett starts to stand, and my first instinct is to turn her around to face me, so her back is to the scene. I swear I throw up in my mouth a little, but I force myself to swallow. I’m being the brave one.
It’s still raining – a little lighter now – but there’s so much blood. Too much blood. It’s pooling out of his head, but I have to keep Scarlett as calm as possible. I have to keep her safe. She can’t see that. I tighten my grip on her shoulder, my nails digging into her.
It’s only been a matter of seconds, but it feels like it’s been hours.
“What the hell is going on, Branson?” she asks, oblivious. I swallow, looking down at her. I try to get the words out, but they don’t come. How are you supposed to tell someone that their uncle just got brutally hit by a car and is not standing up? Scarlett could easily turn her head to see, but I think she knows. “Did you hear that car? I swear some people don’t know how to drive. Nobody got hit, did they?” She rambles and I nod.
She nods back, her eyes twitching. Her mouth forms into a slight frown at my silence and her eyebrows soften a little. “It was Gio, wasn’t it?”
I nod.
That's all I can do.
I watch the exact moment she tries to turn around, but I tighten my grip on her shoulders and crash her into my chest, holding her there. She doesn’t need to see it. She can hear the gasps of onlookers, yet no one is fucking doing anything. I feel her starting to cry against my chest as I keep my eyes on the top of her head, unable to look at the scene.
It feels like a part of me is being ripped out of me as she cries. The sound comes straight from the back of her throat. Not like the way she cried at the museum. This is the sound of pure agony.
“I need to see him,” she sobs, trying to turn around again.
“Hey, look at me,” I demand, gripping onto her shoulders, my hands finding their way back to her face, holding tight. She blinks up at me, more and more tears streaming down her face. “Angel, I promise you, you don’t want to see him yet.”
She’s crying harder now. “He’s my family," she cries, trying to turnagainbut I grip onto her face, firmly urging her not to turn her head. She’s sobbing, holding onto my forearms, trying to get me to pull them away from her, but I don’t. She’s strong, but I’m stronger. “Let go of me,” she groans.
“Listen to me,” I say, my voice wavering. “Go to the car. Stand outside the passenger side and sit on the floor. Don’t turn around until I’ve got him out of the road, and I’ll bring him to you. Use my phone and call nine-one-one and ask for an ambulance. Tell them there’s been a hit and run. Can you do that for me?”
She nods her head so hard I’m sure she almost goes dizzy. She’s still trying to pry my hands from her face, but she has no luck. This is not the time for her to be stubborn. Can she not see that I’m trying to protect her? That I don’t want her to see what I can.
