Page 41 of Near Miss

It’s probably dramatic, but everything feels different now. Like that girl altered my brain chemistry in that empty closet. Reached down with her hands that save lives, curled her fingers around my heart, and whispered that it should come back to life.

She looks different—shoulders straight, all that exposed skin alight under the moon.

We’re just walking down the street to where I parked the truck, but she’s got this pensive look on her face, silk of her dress fluttering around her legs, and she looks a bit like she should be wading into the water of a moonlit beach somewhere, thinking about burning the world down. I palm my jaw, glancing sideways at Greer. “Are you okay, to be in the truck? To drive home?”

She wraps her arms around herself against the night air. I’d take my suit jacket off and put it around her, but I doubt that would play well.

She tips her chin up, seemingly eyeing the stars in the sky before she stops in front of the truck. Her eyes cut to me, and she nods. “It was a long time ago. I get in cars and drive all the time. They don’t scare me.”

I don’t say anything until we’re both in the truck, and I’m driving down the street. “What happened?”

“Just your run-of-the-mill car accident on a bridge that ended with us in the water. I was with my dad and my sister.”

She says it like it’s nothing, and I take my eyes off the road to look at her. She’s turned away from me, plaque discarded on the floor in front of her, purse in her lap and arms still crossed over her chest. “How old were you?”

“I was seventeen. Stella was fifteen.”

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “Was everyone okay?”

“Eventually,” she says softly, and I glance away from the empty city streets again. Her forehead rests against the window, eyes tracking all the buildings we pass, and the streetlights casting shadows across the sharp edges of her face.

“But it still bothers you?”

I see her shrug one shoulder from the corner of my eye. “Sometimes.”

“Is that what happened the day outside the hospital? With the Gatorade commercial?” I ask, and I think she nods.

“Yes. There were sirens and a car backfired...” Her voice trails off, and I think that’s all she’s going to say, but she keeps talking. “It’s a lot better than it used to be. But sometimes, when I’m not expecting it, my nervous system reacts before my mind can tell it to stop. That it’s just a noise. That I’m not in a car. That I’m not sinking.”

I see her shift in her seat, and I think, maybe I’m starting to understand her a bit more. “The car accident—is that why you became a surgeon?”

Greer turns, cocking her head and studying me. “Something like that.”

I nod, even though I know it’s just another half-truth, offering her a small smile that she returns before she looks back out the window.

We don’t say anything for the rest of the drive. I’d usually try to fill the silence, to distract her, and if she was someone elsewho gave her smiles and laughter away more freely, maybe I’d grin at her and try for one of those.

But I don’t think she needs me to, and I think I like being quiet with her.

Her street is empty, fewer houses with lights shining than the last time I dropped her off. But her porch light is on.

The curtain doesn’t move when I park the truck out front, so I can’t imagine her sister is in there. She seems like the type to wait all night, watching with another FaceTime call at the ready.

I think about Greer—nothing under that dress—and if I was a worse person, I think I’d ask if I could come inside.

But even though she says she’s fine, her cheeks are softer than usual, lips parted at the Cupid’s bow I’d love nothing more than to kiss, and all of her tired.

She unbuckles her seat belt, slides her purse back onto the crook of her elbow, and turns to me. “Well, thank you for coming. I’m sorry you spent more time in a closet with me than you did clearing your good name, but Samir stands to make some money if you perform this season.”

I glance down at her mouth. “I’m really not complaining.” She snaps her fingers and gives me a flat look, but she seems amused, a tiny lift at the corner of her lips. I grin at her and shrug. “Thank you, for all your help. Regular season starts next week so I guess this is it, for now.”

Greer studies me for a second before her eyebrows rise. “Call me, if you ever have another business proposal.”

If it was anyone else saying that to me, I’d think it was an invitation to ask her out. But she’s not anyone else. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. “Hey, it’s a long season. I’m sure I’ll miss something important at some point and come crawling back to you, tail between my legs.”

She tilts her head, lips tugging to the side as she shrugs, turning and opening the door. One hand grabs her dress as shehops down from the bed of the truck. She turns back to me. “Maybe. But I doubt it. You don’t strike me as the type to miss more than once. Good night, Beckett.”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond, shutting the door. I don’t think I have anything to say, so I watch her walk away, but I notice the plaque still on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

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