Page 70 of Driven to Love

He slowed down and stopped right next to it, half expecting to see an access road. But when he saw the broken branches, his gut tightened. Had he driven past? He slammed the shifter into reverse and backed up. His lights caught skid marks and shiny fragments on the road.

No! No! No! Addison? Did someone run her off the road?

When he was level with the opening, he nosed his truck so his lights shone down the hill, and there, reflecting in the LEDs, was a white Civic.

His throat dried up. Nash swallowed back the fear, slammed the truck into park, and darted from the vehicle. He slid down the hillside until he reached the back of her car. Please be okay.

“Addison! Addison, are you alright?” He reached the side. Through the glass of her driver’s window, he could see her still form. He tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Wake up, baby! Wake up!”

A faint groan came through the glass. Relief flooded his limbs. She’s alive.

“Hold on, Addison. Hold on. I’m coming.” He tried the back door. Locked. Nash rounded to the passenger side. A boulder blocked the door from opening. He grabbed a rock the size of a baseball and smashed it into the corner of the window. It shattered. Balling up his shirt, he knocked out the glass and crawled inside.

“Addison, baby. Can you hear me?” The urge to scoop her up and carry her to his truck was strong, but she could have unseen injuries. He called 911. Once the first responders were on their way, Nash texted Cade and Sawyer.

“Come on. Stay with me.” He held her face between his hands.

“Nash.” The word was weak, but he’d heard it as if she’d yelled it at the top of her lungs. Her head rolled to the side. Scrapes and bruises marked her beautiful face.

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He stroked a finger down her cheek.

She moaned. He barely heard it over the sirens in the distance.

“Addison, let me see those beautiful eyes.”

Her brows furrowed, then as if the skies opened to the heavens, those lush green eyes peeked through her dark lashes.

“Morning, beautiful. Hang in there. Help is on the way.” Nash kissed her forehead and exhaled. She was alive.

“I can go to my own house.” Addison scowled at Nash as he held the door open for her.

Davey carried Lucifer’s carrier into the house. “It’s no problem, Miss Addison. You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” Addison ran a hand over his hair, ruffling it, before turning a scowl to Nash.

Davey set the cat carrier down right next to Max’s crate. The pup started wiggling. He was bursting with excitement for his friend to come and play.

“You can let them out. Lucifer and Max are old buddies,” he said to his son, who opened the carrier door.

Max bolted out, but Lucifer cautiously stepped from the carrier.

Addison watched until she realized they would be fine. She eased herself down to sit on the couch.

“One more hour before you get your next pain pill,” Nash said.

She frowned. Her arm hurt worse than a bikini wax, and her head hadn’t pounded this much since that weekend in Cabo five years ago. After that trip, she swore off tequila shooters. Addison closed her eyes. In the hospital, they gave her pain medication and monitored her. Now her headache had dwindled to a dull roar. When they released her, they insisted she be monitored and couldn’t be alone for the next day. She argued, but Nash stepped in.

The doorbell rang. She glared at the door. After spending the night in the hospital, where they woke her every hour for something or other, all Addison wanted was a twelve-hour nap. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

Nash opened the door, and Detective Simon strolled in. “Miss Benedict. Looks like you’ve had quite the evening.”

“Detective? What brings you out here so early? I gave my statement to the officer at the hospital.”

“I had some follow-up questions, so I thought I’d make a house call.”

Addison would roll her eyes at that statement, but it would hurt too much. Instead, she raised a brow in Nash’s direction. The detective wouldn’t have known where she was if not for Nash.

“I’ll make this quick. You can tell me about your evening and the accident.” He pulled out a notebook and pen.