Page 128 of Tulips and Lost Time

“We have picked names,” I insert. “Jess isn’t one of them.”

“He’s cranky today, huh?” She verbally rolls her eyes as I bring the car to a stop and wait while the lights allow traffic to go. “Luc used to be fun. He was good entertainment. Now he’s a dad and such a drag.”

“I just wanna buy some shit for a fence,” I groan. “Then I want to go home and spend time with my wife. Remind me again why you’re calling and sucking my energy away?”

The lights turn yellow as two remaining cars cross, then red, though there’s no one on that side to pull up to the line. Finally, our light turns green, so I take my foot off the brake and place it on the gas instead.

“I’m just checking in on my best friend,” Jess grumbles. “I feel we’ve already covered the fact that she was mine before she was yours. My best friend, right now, is practically crowning with a couple of Lenaghan babies. I’m entitled to ask about it.”

“One of the babies is breech anyway.” Kari rubs her belly again. “I won’t be pushing, no matter when this all goes down. We’re getting as close to forty weeks as we can, and then the theater is waiting for me when we get there.”

“What if you?—”

I look to my right for reasons I can’t truly explain. No noise called me that way. No apparent movement. Nothing but Kari and her two hands, one holding the phone, and the other stroking her belly. This town is tiny. It’s rare for a trip from one side to the other to take more than ten minutes. Traffic jams don’t exist, and car accidents are few and far between.

There are simply not enough of them on the road at one time.

But the universe decided today would be that day. A rusty, old, piece of shit truck doesn’t even glint in the sunlight. The paint is too peeled. The hood, too rusty and dented. The front light is already busted, and the bumper hangs on only with duct tape and hopes and dreams.

I guess maybe I expect the driver to stop. We’re in the intersection. We have the right of way. So my heart doesn’t completely register panic until the massive front grille crosses the solid white lines. Instantly, with my heart in my throat and the air caught in my lungs, I slam my foot on the gas to floor it out of the way as the truck barrels closer.

Kari hisses at my sudden speed. Her phone flies out of her hand and her eyes swing to me. The world moves in slow motion, her perfect, wild curls flying in the air, then it moves again as she follows my gaze and looks out the window on her right.

She releases a peeling scream.

But it’s too fucking late.

The world is moving slow, but the truck is defying the laws of speed. His bumper slams into Kari’s door, T-boning our car and sending us skidding across the intersection until we slam into another. A truck on either side, both larger, harder steel than our little sedan.

“Fuck!” My head raps against the side window, my vision blurring as we come to a sudden stop, the stench of burning rubber filling the car and Kari’s scream… silenced.

“Hello?” Jess’s frantic cry pulses throughout the car. “Luc!”

“Shit.” Stars float in my vision as the car continues to rock. As horns bleat and already, sirens squeal. “Kari?”

“Luc!” Jess shouts out from somewhere far away. The phone. Dropped. “Luc! Are you okay?”

I peel my eyes open and drag them to my right. My head throbs and my jaw aches. But I don’t know hurt until I find Kari, dazed and bleeding. Blinking and groaning. “Kari! Oh shit.” I startle in my seat and try to jump toward her, catching myself on my seatbelt and crying out in frustration. “Kari! Babe.”

“Luc?” Jess calls. “What the hell happened?”

“Call an ambulance!” I unsnap my seatbelt and lunge over the seats. “Kari! Wake up, baby. Wake up.”

“The babies.” Her words are slurred, her face, covered in blood and nicks from glass I hadn’t even noticed shattered. “Luc, the babies?—”

“They’re okay. Just relax for a second and let me check you over.” I press my fingers to her neck, but my eyes go down. It’s an automatic response. I don’t even think about it. So when I catch bright red blood smeared over the seat and soaking through her pants, my heart fucking stops. “Oh no. Oh god. Oh no.” I shove out of the car and sprint around to Kari’s side, thankful the truck skidded off to the right and isn’t blocking her door. My head swims, and if not for holding on to my car, I might stumble too far to the right and miss my landing.

But I find her door, yanking the handle and opening it wide. People scream, somewhere far, far away. Others cry. Others, still, run out of shops and into the street with their hands to their mouths and tears in their eyes.

These are scenes I’ve witnessed a million times over the years. But never, in the history of ever, was I the one in the middle.

“Somebody call an ambulance!” I unsnap Kari’s seatbelt and catch her when she slumps. All of my training says not to move her. Spinal injuries could mean she never walks again. But leaving her inside the car, bleeding and barely responsive, typically fucking equals dead. “Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on.” Tears blur my vision and burn my eyes, but I hook my arms under hers and drag her out, damn near falling to my knees when I find not just blood stains on the seats. But a fucking puddle. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

Rage burns in my veins as I pull her out and still, people just fucking watch. The driver of the truck stumbles out of his cab. The driver of the other truck, the one we hit, tries to open his door. But he’s trapped inside, the steel crumpled on one side and folded against the traffic light pole on the other.

“Luc!” A familiar voice roars in my peripherals. A panicked gasp. Then Alex sprints to where I try to pull Kari out carefully. He instantly grabs her legs, his face pale as a ghost, but he’s a first responder too. He’s been to tragic situations a million times. “What the fuck happened?”

“Red truck hit us.” I gently place Kari on the road and look up, appreciative as a wad of towels slap my shoulder and land on the road. Katrina, a local waitress down at the diner, gulps as I bundle the fabric and place it under Kari’s head. Then I skid around to her other end and pull her shorts down. “I need something.” My stomach heaves. Anxiety swirls and makes me sick. My head thuds and still, my eyes blur as I desperately look to Alex.

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