Page 66 of Capture My Heart

She closed her laptop and set it aside. Frustration bubbled inside her. She rose to pace.

Air, that’s what she needed. Oh sure, a magical eight ball would be nice, but she doubted the old toy would give her the answers she needed. Pocketing her keys, Amy slipped on her Crocs and locked the door behind her.

Downstairs, the gym was quiet. A few people worked out. She nodded at Trey stocking towels by the front desk. He could be a good sounding board. Nah, she needed air, not a brainstorm session.

She spied Tommy through the glass door, broom in hand. He was always good for a distraction. The hot morning sun baked the concrete sending waves of heat through her.

“Glad we got our run in early.” She squinted up at the bright blue sky.

“Hey Sis. Can you hand me that dustpan?” He had pieces of a broken beer bottle in front of him.

“Sure.” She bent down to grab it when the squeal of tires cut the morning calm.

“What the—?” She looked up in time to see the gray Honda jump the curb.

“Tommy!” She was in motion. The dustpan slipped from her fingers and in two steps, she fisted the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards.

Not quick enough. The bumper grazed his side and propelled then both back against the brick wall.

Oh no, no, no! She cradled him in her arms as they slumped to the ground.

She barely noticed his one-hundred and eighty pounds pressing her into the concrete. She was just thankful he wasn’t roadkill. She squeezed him tighter.

“What the fuck?” Trey burst through the doors. “What just happened?”

He reached down and helped them both up.

“Call it in. Late model Gray Honda, hit-and-run.”

She turned to Tommy. “Did you get the license plate?”

“No, I was looking down.”

She turned to Trey. “Did you see anything?”

He dropped the phone from his ear. “No, I ran outside when I heard the commotion. A unit is on the way. Tommy, what happened?”

“I don’t know. I was sweeping up the broken bottle like you asked then next thing I know, tires squealed and I’m flying backwards.” Tommy brushed off his shorts and grabbed the dustpan.

Trey took the broom. “I’ll get the broken bottle.”

Amy shoved her trembling hands in her pockets. Not quick enough.

Trey’s eyes locked with hers. “Take Tommy inside. Make sure he’s alright.”

He leaned in, face to face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I wasn’t hit. Tommy was.” Seeing the car jump the curb straight at her brother… an icy chill chased away the July heat.

Trey dropped his voice so only she could hear. “Was it intentional?”

“Yes.” The driver had on a black hoodie. Who wears a hoodie in July? Not a sane person when it’s already seventy-eight degrees out.

He didn’t have to say more. She could read all the questions on his face. But now wasn’t the time. Not with her still shaking and Tommy—crap, Tommy.

She turned and pulled Tommy into a bear hug and checked him for broken bones. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a skinned knee. Are you okay?”