Page 85 of Mismatched

But as I speak, a light catches my attention in the rearview mirror. No, it’s two. A pair of headlights approaching in the dark. I pump the brake to get their attention, because they’re coming so fast, and I know there’s ice, and?—

My hand flies to my midsection.

“They’re not going to stop.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Please.” I clench my fists, begging the police officer in front of me. “I just need to get back to my wife.”

“I’m trying to make sure I understand what happened?—”

“Sir, can I take a look at that cut on your face?”

I turn my attention from the police officer and her endless questions to a paramedic approaching with a look of sympathy. “How is she?” I ask. “Is she okay?”

He glances over his shoulder at the ambulance where Lydia was taken forever ago. She was up and walking when they got here, said somehow she didn’t feel hurt—thank God—but she was scared. They closed the doors to give her privacy at some point, but the longer she’s in there, the harder my heart pounds.

“My partner’s with her, don’t worry. She seems remarkably well, all things considered.” He glances at the two wrecked cars in the intersection, then reaches out and swabs my forehead with something that fucking stings.

At that moment, the back of the ambulance opens up and the female paramedic sticks her head out, waving us over. When we get there, they mutter back and forth to each other, but my eyes are glued to Lydia, lying on a gurney looking pale and no less afraid.

“Anton,” she says when she sees me, a tear spilling down her cheek. I scan her again, looking for any new sign of pain or injury. Apart from looking disheveled, she somehow has fewer scrapes than me, but she’s clutching her hands to her stomach and the look on her face?—

“Hey. D-does something hurt?” I want to climb inside to be with her, but the other paramedic is moving around now, grabbing supplies, and I realize she’s prepping her arm to put in an IV. My eyes widen, but I’m afraid of getting in the way, so I grab my wife’s foot at the end of the gurney and squeeze.

“I—I don’t know,” Lydia says, still scared and confused. “They want to take me to the hospital.”

The paramedic next to me nods, sticking something to my forehead. When he’s satisfied with that, he starts packing up to leave. “She has some mild vaginal bleeding,” he says in a low voice. “Not a lot, and she says there’s no pain, which is good. But we want to take her to Denver Health to get checked out.”

“Bleeding.” I let out a breath. More like a gasp. “Is the baby?—”

“They’ll be able to tell a lot more about what’s going on at the hospital,” he says, managing to sound both rushed and incredibly reassuring. “She doesn’t seem otherwise hurt, so it might be nothing.”

I nod stiffly. My shoulders won’t release. “Can I—I’ll go with her?”

The police officer comes over, clearing her throat. “Sir, I’m going to need your insurance info for when the tow truck gets here. And if you don’t mind, I do have a few more questions before I can complete my report.”

The paramedic gives me a compassionate nod. “I know this is stressful, but do you have another ride? We’d like to get her there as soon as possible.”

I glare at the officer, but Lydia’s pale, dazed expression makes me shut up and put on a brave face. “My brother’s on his way.” I keep my tone as even and confident as I can, but as I watch them place an oxygen mask over my wife’s face, it feels like my chest is coming apart. “Don’t worry, Lydia. I—I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

And then they’re closing the doors between us, and the ambulance turns its lights on, and they’re driving away, siren blaring through the night.

The police officer turns to me and opens her mouth.

“Excuse me.” I pull out my phone and turn away. Dial a number I’ve had forever and never called. She picks up on the fifth ring, sounding groggy.

“Hello?”

“Caprice.” My voice breaks. “Lydia—look, there was an accident, she?—”

“What?” she says, instantly awake. “Is she okay? What did you—where is she?”

My voice is shaking now. “They took her to Denver Health. Can you—I’m still here with the police?—”

Through the receiver, I hear a clatter, then some swearing, but she comes back and says, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Then hangs up without another word. I don’t even care, I’m just grateful Lydia won’t be alone.

“Okay, so I was able to get a statement from the other driver,” the officer says, going down her checklist when I finish. “Now I just need?—”

---