Page 110 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

Which came first?

And then priority didn’t matter, as his nostrils flared at the acrid smell of fuel. An audible hiss added urgency, and then he saw the first lick of flame.

‘Leave it, mate! Save yourself! It’s going to explode!’ yelled a distant voice above the roar. ‘She’s probably gone anyway.’

She’s alive,he said inside his head, because he didn’t have time to waste in voicing his fury.

Leave her...?

That was not an option—less of an option than a world without Clemmie in it.

He closed off the line of thought. It was an action now and think later scenario, and he just had to hope and pray, as he gave up on opening the door and dragged Clemmie’s limp body through the smashed window, that he was not doing any damage to her.

As he pushed his way through the hedge, away from the car and onto the road, he saw a crowd had gathered around a figure sitting hunched on the road, near where the lorry had hit a tree.

Someone was yelling something that Joaquin couldn’t hear, but whatever it was had spurred the small group into action. Supporting the man between them, two members of the group began to move away.

Joaquin only noted this with the five percent of his brain that wasn’t focused on the pale, blood-streaked face of the woman he carried. Everything in his chest had contracted into an icy fist, but he pushed through the fear, knowing that this was not the time for emotion.

Her face was illuminated as the lorry went up in flames, lifting off the ground in an explosion that deafened him. The scene now looked like a war zone, but Joaquin just carried on running as there was a second explosion—presumably his car.

‘You can put her down, mate. We have it now.’

Joaquin carried on running, initially not registering the words or the presence of the two uniformed figures who were jogging along on either side of him.

Then, as consciousness of the hand on his shoulder registered, he slowed.

‘I can’t hear...’ he said, feeling as though he was speaking into an echo chamber.

‘It’ll pass.’

The paramedic nodded to the stretcher that had appeared beside them and Joaquin released Clemmie to the care of the professionals. He stood there feeling helpless, and more terrified than he had ever felt in his life.

‘Let’s get a line in...her SATS are good.’

They allowed him to go in the air ambulance with her, where he sat back, feeling comforted by the cool efficiency and thumbs-up signals of the emergency staff.

Clemmie felt herself rising through layer upon and layer of clinging grey cotton wool. She reached the surface and the noise hit her. She knew that something had happened—something bad that she didn’t really want to remember. The pain was something to focus on, not remembering. And then she saw Joaquin and it all came back.

He was getting married! And he didn’t trust her—he had lied.

She groaned.

‘Clemmie, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.’ He turned away. ‘She’s awake, she’s in pain—give her something.’

Clemmie closed her eyes—they felt too heavy to keep open. She felt a sudden rush, and the pain she had been clinging to receded.

She forced her eyes open again, unsure how long they’d been closed.

‘It’s stuck, Joaquin. I’m so sorry. They might have to amputate... No, I’m joking.’ She really didn’t feel like joking. ‘Don’t let them take my finger.’

‘She’s passed out!’ Joaquin yelled accusingly as he felt panic ripping through him.

‘Her SATS are fine—don’t worry.’

‘Don’t worry’in these circumstances had to be the most insane thing he had ever heard.

The flight might have lasted five minutes or five hours. It had been surreal. And the sensation continued now, as they entered the hospital. He kept up with the trolley until suddenly double doors opened and then closed in his face. Clemmie was whisked away into the white corridor distance.

---