Page 84 of Sparking Sara

Nora smiles at the thought. “I think I’d like that.”

She stands there without moving. I think she’s waiting for me to kiss her. I didn’t kiss her the last time we went out. If I don’t kiss her now, she’ll think I’m not interested. To prove to her that I am, I lean in and press my lips against hers. It’s not a passionate kiss. After all, we’re standing on a crowded sidewalk in New York City. It’s not a chaste kiss either. It’s somewhere in between.

She smiles up at me, clearly convinced, before she turns to enter her building.

As I watch her walk away, however, I’m not sure she’s the only one who needs convincing.

Chapter Twenty

The rig pulls up alongside the accident and I see the three mangled cars. An SUV is wedged up against a building. A Dodge Charger is T-boned into a telephone pole. And the third car, a minivan, is twenty feet away from the others, its front tires spinning around and around as they dangle off the end of the loading dock.

I shake my head, wondering how in the hell cars can end up like this when the speed limit is thirty-five miles per hour.

We hop out of the truck and someone from NYPD is running towards us. “High-speed chase,” he says. He motions to the two cars by the building. “Those two were involved, but the one over there”—he points to the minivan—“that one got caught up in it. Woman and two kids. I can’t get to them.”

I stare at the minivan, and the only thing I can think of is Sara when we were up on that bridge and I thought she was going over. I thoughtwewere going over.

“I want that one,” I tell J.D.

“You sure?” he asks.

“I’m positive.”

“Okay.” He turns to Squad 13. “Cash, secure the minivan. Andrews, do not attempt a rescue until the chains are in place.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” I say, grabbing some gear before running over to the edge of the dock.

I stand next to the minivan, trying to look inside. One side of the car is heavily scratched and dented, like it was hit hard before going off the road. The driver’s window is intact, but I can see a woman slumped over the decompressed airbag on the steering wheel. And I hear a child crying.

“It’s secure!” Brett yells. “But it’s wedged in there pretty good. We can’t pull it back without risking injury.”

“Got it,” I say, running around to the intact passenger side of the van. Luckily, the side door is unlocked, saving me precious time. I climb in, feeling my weight shift the vehicle. I freeze for just a moment. In that moment, I see my parents, trapped and helpless. Then I see Sara. Bleeding. Seizing. Dying. But then I see her opening her eyes and whispering to me. I see her getting out of bed and walking all by herself. I see her laughing as we play cards. I see her smiling as she paints on the canvas. I see her staring up into my eyes after we kiss.

“Hey, buddy,” I say to the child closest to me. He’s not the one who’s crying. He’s in shock. “Collar!” I yell behind me. Someone hands me one and I place it around his neck. Then I unbuckle him and feed him out to EMS so they can get him on a backboard.

“One more coming right behind him,” I say, making my way to the other child, a toddler strapped into a car seat. I cut the anchor and belt away from the seat and hand the entire seat out to Steve, who whisks the screaming girl off to the ambulance.

Then I crawl between the seats and make my way to the mother, knowing she’ll have to come out the back. I reach around and feel for a pulse. It’s strong.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

She starts to come around, moaning and disoriented. Then she must see what’s in front of her vehicle—the water. And she starts to panic.

“My leg!” she screams in her attempt to move.

I use my hands to hold her head in place. “Ma’am, please don’t move.”

I lean through the seats and try to assess her injuries. Her leg is broken. Looks like a compound fracture. And her head is bleeding.

The van shifts again and she screams.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m going to get you out.”

She doesn’t stop screaming. I reach over and lower her visor, opening the mirror and angling it so she can see me behind her. “Look at me,” I say. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

She calms down when her eyes meet mine. And I realize I have no idea what color her eyes are, because the only thing I see when I look in the mirror are Sara’s chocolate-brown ones. Then Sara’s eyes become my mom’s eyes looking back at me. Then my dad’s. And their eyes are smiling. And suddenly, I’m sure this is exactly where I was meant to be. At this accident. In this car. Saving this woman.

I don’t even notice when the car shifts again because I’m so focused on the task at hand.

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