Page 2 of Close to My Heart

“Five minutes without ice?” I tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“I’ll be right there.”

Before I could say anything, the line went dead. My heart surged at the idea that Wes was on his way. I didn’t want to be alone in this, but at the same time, I didn’t want him or one of his brothers to get hurt. They were involved in either law enforcement or firefighting, so they were versed in bad road conditions and rescue efforts.

Wes would be fine. He wouldn’t come out if he didn’t think he could make it.

My car slid again, and I brought my attention back to the road. I just had to go a few more feet, then a few more after that.

Just then lights flashed in the rearview mirror, and a truck driving way too fast came around the corner and swerved around me. Panicked, I jerked the wheel to the right, and my small car flew off the road, going airborne for one long second, then landed with a hard thud.

My head bumped into the steering wheel, my knee into the steering column, before my body flew back against the seat.

When the car stopped moving, I was almost afraid to breathe. I slowly opened my eyes, my entire body felt like it had been shaken up.

The airbags hadn’t deployed. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

All I could think about was how much I needed Wes to be here. I felt coolness on my forehead. I reached up, feeling a cut.

My knee hurt. But I was okay. I was off the side of the road. I hadn’t hit anything else like a tree. It could have been worse.

I just hoped no other vehicles would go by and crash into me.

It couldn’t have been long when lights flashed in my eyes. I hoped it was Wes.

The truck made a U-turn and parked alongside my vehicle, partially blocking the roadway. The passenger side door of the truck opened, and someone ran toward me.

I heard my name being shouted. But I felt a little dizzy and woozy. I wondered if I had a concussion.

The door ripped open, and the cold air made me shiver.

“How is she?” Jameson asked as he seemingly shoved Wes out of the way.

“Can we move her? Can we get her out of here?” Wes asked, his voice trembling.

I’d never heard him be anything other than completely put together and calm. Except for when his mother died.

“Should be able to,” Jameson said evenly. “How’s your head, Sutton?”

The pain was worse now. It felt like someone was using an ice pick on my head, and my neck ached. I touched my forehead. “It hurts.”

“Anything else get hurt when you slid off the road?” Jameson’s voice was soothing.

My hand drifted lower. “My knee.”

“Okay. I’m going to look at you. If everything’s good, I’ll carry you to my truck. Then we’ll take you home and treat you there.”

Home. To the Calloway’s house. The place that made me feel warm and content, accepted and loved. There had never been any pressure or expectation at the Calloway house. I was accepted as is, and it was an amazing feeling.

“What about my car?” I didn’t like the idea of leaving it here.

“We’ll call a tow for it. It will be fine.” Jameson’s fingers lightly probed my forehead, my scalp, then my knee. Then he traveled to other parts of my body, and I felt too exhausted to ask what he was doing.

“I’m going to unbuckle your seatbelt and carry you to my truck.” Every word was said slowly, but I knew Jameson was focused on me and the road, listening for any signs that another vehicle was close by.

I merely nodded, and Jameson released the buckle. Before I could register what was happening, Wes was there. “I’ve got her.”

“Be careful. We don’t know what other injuries she could have.” Jameson’s voice sounded so far away.

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