Page 83 of Scoring Grey

“Remember what you insinuated about your father at the hospital? How you weren’t sure he didn’t look the other way on your mother’s health…” She squeezes her eyes closed. “You were right to suspect your dad, but I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to look at me the same, knowing my mother helped him.”

Bright lights illuminate the car, and we both turn toward the front window.

“Cal, look out,” she screeches as another car careens to swerve and misses a downed tree in the middle of the road. I slam my foot on the brakes, but the car doesn’t respond. “Cal!” she screams in terror.

“The brakes aren’t working,” I bellow as I turn hard to avoid hitting the tree head-on. “Hold on,” I shout as I try to keep the car from spinning out of control, but the snowpack on the side of the road is frozen—the car tailspins as I try to correct it. The fear in her eyes connects with mine right before there’s a searing pain in my chest that knocks the wind out of my lungs, and everything fades in and out as I struggle to find my breath and open my eyes.

My whole body hurts like I just took the most brutal fucking hit of my career as my mind battles my body’s desire to dissociate and cope. My head lulls from side to side. “Eloise,” I force out, trying to move more than just my neck. My heart starts pounding when I don’t hear a response, and I breathe heavily out of my nose. “Eloise,” I grind out louder but still nothing. Fuck. I dig deep. I bend my body to my will, and finally, my fingers move. I clench and flex, clench and flex as I continue to move my head from side to side until, finally, I’m able to open my eyes. My vision is blurry, and I blink rapidly to get them to focus. That’s when I see her. In the passenger seat, slumped against a broken window with blood running down her temple, is my whole world.

“No, no, no.” I reach for her arm and shake it. “Eloise, Eloise, baby, can you hear me?” My hand drifts to hers, and it’s ice cold. “Fuck! You’re not leaving me. You promised you wouldn’t leave,” I say, pulling her sleeve up and searching her wrist for a pulse. I try to settle my shaking hands, my fear and adrenaline working against me. “Damn it,” I breathe through my nose, taking long, slow breaths while I frantically move my index and middle fingers, probing for a heartbeat. Finally, I find a beat. I wait to see if I’ll feel another, to ensure it’s not my mind playing tricks on me, willing something to exist that’s not there. I feel another and reach for my door handle. I have to get her out of the car. I need to get her flat. If she’s knocked out, her sitting position isn’t helping to get the blood flow to her brain.

As soon as I open the door, Dash is there. “Cal?” he asks, surprised to find that I’m the vehicle’s driver.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Can you call nine-one-one?” I ask as I stand a little too quick, and a dizzy spell has me grasping the door.

“I called the second I saw your car spin out. They’re on their way. The weight of the ice must have brought that tree down, and with no lights on these back roads, you don’t see it until you’re on it.”

“Eloise is hurt. I need to get her out,” I say as I round the car.

“Eloise is with you? Why aren’t you at the gala?”

I wave my hand. “I’ll explain later. She hit her head, and she’s not responding. I need to get her, Dash,” I try to keep my panic at bay.

“Shit,” we curse in unison when we see her door pinned against the tree I slid into.

I rake my hands through my hair. The car is smashed up but mainly on her side. “Let me see if I can back up.” I rush back into the driver’s seat. Seeing her limp body again kills me slowly. “Eloise, I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this better, I promise. Just don’t leave me, blondie.” The wheels spin when I put the car in reverse and slowly step on the gas. “Come on.” I pound on the dash, pressing the pedal into the floor harder.

“Stop,” Dash calls out. “I have an idea,” he says, removing his coat before shoving it behind my right rear wheel. “Go again,” he calls out.

I apply gas lightly, hoping the fabric of his coat catches, and the second I feel it grip, I push hard. “Yes,” I cheer as though that small win is the most significant victory of my entire life, and maybe it is because I don’t see how saving the girl I love is anything but the ultimate win. She’s my whole life. I can’t lose her.

When I round the car to open her door, the guardian angel my mother sent in the form of Dash Westin says, “I’ll open the door slowly. You catch her.”

I nod. “Yeah, good plan.” When he goes to open it, we both let out a sigh of relief when it gives and opens. Her unconscious body falls into my arms, and the way her neck flops to one side has me swallowing down the contents of my stomach. That’s not good. “You’re not going to die on me. This isn’t how our story ends, Eloise Grey, do you hear me?” I grind through clenched teeth as I lay her flat on the ground before hastily removing my jacket and delicately placing it under her head.

“Fuck,” Dash says, the fear in his tone palpable. “Did you check for a pulse?”

“I thought I felt one in the car,” I say as I bring my hand to the side of her neck for a better reading. Sirens can finally be heard in the background, but they don’t bring me peace. I need them to fix her. I’m not loading her on a stretcher any other way. I refuse to accept the alternative. “Shit.” My eyes get glassy.

“You’re not doing it right. Your fingers are too high.” Dash drops to his knees beside me. “You were too close to her ear. You need to be right here.” He moves my fingers. “Just below the jaw, next to her windpipe.”

I anxiously hold my breath, unable to stomach what comes next, and then I feel it. “It’s beating.” Elation floods into my tone. “It’s fucking beating.”

“Thank God.” He grabs her hand. “Lou, can you hear us?” Running his thumb over the back, he says, “If you can hear us, move your fingers.”

“She’s so cold,” I say when I grab her other hand. I lean down and cradle her face, careful not to move her neck, and breathe against her ear. “I know I hurt you. I know I’ve messed up and maybe I don’t deserve you, but you’re going to wake up and give me those words, blondie.” I gently kiss the side of her face.

“Cal, look,” Dash exclaims. I turn to him and their joined hands, where I see her thumb is steadily tapping against his. “She’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, Lou. The ambulance is coming.”

The lights of the ambulance pull our eyes toward the truck that’s now sitting on the other side of the downed tree. They’re not going to be able to get around it. “Dash, go tell them we’re over here. Tell them we need a stretcher.”

He kisses the top of her hand. “On it. Hang in there, Eloise.”

“You’re going to be okay,” I say as I brush back the bloody hairs stuck to the side of her forehead, getting a better look at her injury. That’s when I see what caused all the blood. There’s a shard of glass lodged into the side of her temple. My hand shakes as I search my pockets for my phone to take a better look. Bringing the light to the side of her head, I can’t tell how deep the glass is wedged in there, and while my first instinct is to pull it out and make it better, I know I can’t. I can’t risk it.

I move the light to her face to examine her other injuries, and when I do, I catch sight of her eyes fluttering closed.

“Bright,” she croaks.

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