Page 12 of Nothing to Fear

Particles clung to her nostrils, burned her throat, and filled her lungs. She coughed and raked in a glorious breath of fresh air.

Gideon’s long legs stretched quickly, carrying her to his car. In his powerful arms, warm and solid, a blanket of calm covered her, dampening her chaotic thoughts save one.

She was safe with him.

He opened the passenger’s door and set her inside, but she didn’t want him to let go. Not yet.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Everything had unraveled in minutes. Trying to slow the car, the parking lot. Gideon helping. She still couldn’t make sense of it.

Gideon crouched in front of Willow and examined her, smoothing his big hands over her face and her hair. He tilted her chin up. “Did you hit your head? You might have a concussion.”

Staring into his wide eyes, now darkened to the blue-gray of a stormy sky in this light, her breathing slowed and her bunched muscles uncoiled. He looked shaken, off beat from his normal steady cadence.

“Willow? Are you all right?”

I’m okay. How bizarre since she’d almost died. “Everything is fuzzy, but I didn’t hit my head. I don’t think I have a concussion.”

“You can get it from whiplash. A doctor should check you.”

Before she voiced objections, a sheriff’s car pulled into the lot, lights flashing, siren muted. Gideon patted her knee and left her side. He spoke to the officer, pointing to her car, waving his hands in the air as if explaining everything that’d happened.

What exactly had happened?

This morning, nothing was wrong with her brakes. She’d had the car checked recently, never pushed the service due date. Yet she’d nearly been killed.

The officer approached, pad and pen in hand. His stern face looked hard enough to crack stone. His narrowing gaze scrutinized her from head to toe. She tensed, gaze falling to the asphalt, and roped an arm around her stomach to steady herself.

“Ma’am, I’m Deputy Martin. Your boyfriend was telling me what happened.”

She glanced at Gideon. Why didn’t he correct him? She looked up at the cop but avoided his probing eyes, choosing to stare at his cleft chin. “Gideon isn’t my boyfriend. He’s a coworker.”

“Oh, not the impression I got.” He scribbled on his pad. “Ma’am, I need to see your driver’s license.”

Scanning for her purse, she noticed she was tapping her fingers on the seat. The habit soothed her whenever she was tense or overly tired, but it tended to make others uncomfortable. She clenched her hand a moment and fished her wallet from the purse draped around her.

She took out her license, and the white Asperger Network card she kept in case of emergencies such as this slipped onto the ground.

Her jaw dropped. The words rising in her throat clumped together. The card was designed to help ease communication with first responders, but she didn’t want Gideon to see it.

The deputy bypassed the license trembling in her hand, bent down, and picked up the card. He went to hand it to her but glanced a little too long. The words To Law Enforcement and First Responders written on the front must’ve captured his attention because he pulled the card back. That side only gave personal details like her name, date of birth, and emergency contacts—her dad and sister Laurel. Willow would’ve preferred never to list Laurel as any sort of contact, but her other sister, Ivy, lived abroad.

The officer turned the card over. Gideon glanced at it from the side.

She held her breath. No, no. Please don’t read it. Her skin grew tight as shrink-wrap.

Gideon would never look at her the same. Today was the first day he’d even bothered to look at all. Now each word he read incinerated any chance she might’ve had to ashes.

Because of my Autism Spectrum Disorder, I may:

• Panic if yelled at and lash out if touched or physically restrained.

• Misinterpret things you tell me or ask me to do.

• Not be able to answer your questions.

• Tend to interpret statements literally.