Page 31 of His Secret Obsession

The light turns green, and I hold my breath as the semi-truck passes by me without incident. With every mile I drive down the road, the condition of the roads continues to deteriorate. The muscles in my shoulders remain rigid as the road becomes covered in a thin layer of white. I keep my tires within the tracksof those who have traveled before me, but I can still feel the way they struggle to maintain traction along the slick surface.

But I’m so close. Only a few more minutes, and—

The backend of the car fishtails as it slides over a patch of ice, and my heartrate skyrockets. A rush of adrenaline seizes my brain as panic consumes me, and I jerk the wheel. When I overcorrect, my car begins sliding toward the side of the road. I squeak out a startled cry as my feet pump the brakes, a novice move, but my brain is practically bleating at me.

My car skids into the ditch, the front end hitting the embankment with athud. I’m jerked forward, but my seat belt stops me from hitting the steering wheel.

Fuck.

“I’m safe,” I whisper. “Safe.”

But the terror seizing my brain won’t let up. My breaths begin to saw in and out of my lungs as I wrap shaking arms around myself. A lump forms in my throat, my eyelids blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. But even through blurry vision, all I can see is white.

White—just like that day.

And I see the oozing, dripping red that isn’t really there.

It was everywhere, warm and sticky on my skin. It was on their skin too, matted in their hair and soaking into their seats.

Slamming my eyes shut, I try to block out the images. But the icy, cold fear squeezing my chest is unrelenting. I force myself to chant the words that were once whispered in my ears. I vaguely remember gentle hands pulling me out of the wreckage of the car and whispering soothing words to me as I went in and out of consciousness. I never saw their face, but I remember the hand gripping mine and the feeling of safety as the stranger whispered in my ear.

“You’re going to live today—fight to live. You have so much life ahead of you. Don’t you dare give up.”

“I’m going to live today.” The words come out as nothing more than strangled gasps said over frantic wheezing. But I repeat the words, hoping that I’ll start to believe them.

Jax

Despite years of service with the local fire department, nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Maddie’s car in a ditch. I’ve seen and experienced a lot, yet it’s different when it’s someone you know. A cold numbness sweeps over my limbs as I maneuver my truck onto the side of the road. I yank my seatbelt off like it’s personally offended me and jump out of the idling vehicle. My muscles tense as I mentally brace myself for all the different scenarios I may find.

Images flash through my mind of different vehicles and all the various wrecks I’ve been called to over the years. Some ofwhich were in weather similar to this. Images of grisly injuries, frightened people trapped within mangled vehicles, and bodies that don’t move. A weak, petite hand trying to grip my own.

Not my Maddie. Not her—never her.

“Maddie!” I’m yelling her name as I sprint down the small embankment, only vaguely aware of the ankle-deep snow soaking through my socks. I jerk the car door open, and a rush of relief sweeps through me when I see that she appears conscious and relatively unharmed. But her breathing is coming in short, shallow pants and she has a white-knuckled grip on her seatbelt. Her terror-filled eyes don’t appear to be focused on anything in particular and, with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize she must be stuck in old memories.

While she’s never talked to me about the wreck that killed her parents, I know she was in the backseat that day. Luke once mentioned that she still has occasional nightmares about it. From a quick glance around, it looks like she did nothing more than slide off the road and get herself stuck in this ditch. But the trauma of her past has her panic riding her hard.

I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and I hate it.

“Maddie. Look at me, baby.” Crouching down, I press my forehead to hers so she has nowhere else to look but at me. Her skin is pale and clammy. “I know what you’re feeling is scary right now, but I’m here and I promise you are in no danger.” I tuck a stray lock of her silky, soft hair behind her ear as she stares up at me. “You’re with me now, and you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Jax,” she pants, her lower lip trembling. “My parents—” She pauses when her voice cracks, her eyebrows furrowing. I wonder if she even knows what she’s trying to say. “There was ice on the road…”

Jesus. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out.

“We’re going to concentrate on breathing.” Despite my inner turmoil, my voice is steady and firm. That’s what she needs from me right now. “Stay in the present with me, Maddie. Just breathe.” I thread my hand around the back of her head, weaving my trembling fingers through her hair. “Breathe with me,” I whisper. I inhale a heavy, calming breath before making an exaggerated show of exhaling slowly.

Maddie mimics me so I do it again. My eyes never leave hers as we breath in each other’s air, over and over. Eventually, her breathing becomes more controlled. The death grip on her seatbelt loosens, and she clutches the front of my shirt instead.

“That’s it,” I praise her. “You’re being such a good girl for me, Maddie.”

Her breath catches at my phrase, her eyelids fluttering as she relaxes a little more against me. Something threatens to stir inside me at her response, but I ignore it. Instead, I let some of my training take over. The need to get her home where she can be safe and warm nips at my heels, and I won’t relax until I can make that happen.

“Does anything hurt?” My hands sweep down her neck, palpating as I watch for any sign of pain.

“No.”

I press two fingers to her wrist, silently taking her pulse before moving on. Peering into her eyes, I gauge her pupils before palpating across her chest and abdomen. Maddie stares up at me, her expression now calm, if not a little dazed. A small, pent-up breath escapes me when she shows no reaction. No flinching, no sharp gasps, nothing to indicate that she’s hurt.

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