“Oh yeah, it was our power-flower place to go back then? Those were the days,” the second lady with flowing silver hair and a flowery dress said. “I visited Ethel last week and told her how great a job Milo was doing running this place.”
I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I was definitely listening intently. Milo was not only working at the cafe, he was in charge of it? That would explain his odd hours and how much he was doing for it.
“Did you tell her it needs some renovations, though?” the pink-haired lady asked.
“Oh, shut it. The boy has enough on his plate. They made a great decision selling the place to him; such a good young man. Here he is.”
Milo was on his bike, getting closer to the cafe when he spotted me on the other side of the street. The wind was blowing his unruly hair back. I wanted to kiss his flushed cheeks and hug him so close, his lovely smell would stay on my shirt until I went back to work.
I lifted my hand in a wave. Then my smile dropped.
Milo was passing a car parked on the curb when the driver’s door sharply opened. In a blink, Milo hit the door with his bike and flew over it.
I could feel the thud he landed on the street with, deep in my bones.
It happened so fast, but my brain was registering it in slow motion, as if it needed the time to process.
“Milo!” A yell tore out of me, and I ran to him, having only half a mind to check the oncoming traffic before crossing. I dropped to my knees next to him. “Milo, talk to me.” I touched his arm gently.
He wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed.
The guy who opened the door stumbled out of the car. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see him. Oh shit. Did I kill him? What do I do now?”
“Call the ambulance.” I pressed two fingers to Milo’s throat, feeling his pulse. “He’s alive.” I scanned his body. His arms and legs were at normal angles, and no blood was anywhere on or around him apart from scratches on his exposed skin.
“I’m fine.” Milo’s quiet voice was a balm to my soul. “Just bumped a bit.” He attempted to lift himself, but I put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving.
I exhaled a breath of relief that I didn’t really feel. He could be bleeding internally. He probably had a concussion. Fuck.
“Stay still, just in case. The ambulance is coming.” I glanced at the guy, now talking frantically on the phone, but also nodding at me. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Please be okay.
What was wrong with my chest? Was I having a heart attack? This was not the time to panic. Get a fucking grip, Rangecroft.
“Don’t go.” Milo reached for me.
I squeezed his hand, which looked tiny in mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Author's notes:
I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you!
Milo
I woke up with a gasp. These were not my sheets. And definitely not the fancy hotel Rowan was staying at.
Rowan…
Holding my hand. When I lay on the street.
And now.
I squeezed my fingers around a big, hairy palm. “Rowan?”
“Oh gods, Milo, you’re awake. How are you feeling? What hurts?” His hushed voice was close.
I groaned. My head swam in a dull way. “Too much—”
