Page 39 of One Short Summer

“Perfect. And thanks so much for coming to see me. I’m sure you’re both exhausted from the drive.” She scans both of our faces, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows at whatever she sees.

The sooner we get out of here, the better.

Somehow, I have a feeling our poker faces aren’t the best right now. “Of course we had to come here first. But you’re right, a nice hot shower and maybe a nap sound pretty good to me right now.”

“Well, what are you waiting for then? It’s almost dinnertime for me anyway, which means I’ll kick everyone out soon. I don’t need anyone stealing my food.” She chuckles before sobering up again, reaching out to grab Monica’s hand and then mine. When she squeezes mine, her eyes are shiny, and the corners of her mouth tilt up the smallest fraction. “Even though you really didn’t have to, thanks so much for coming back for me. It means a lot.”

I squeeze her hand. “Don’t even mention it. Let me know if you need any help before they let you leave tomorrow. Otherwise, we’ll see you at Mom’s, okay?”

“Of course, thank you. I guess it’s good I still live at home, seeing I’ll need all the help I can get.”

We both chuckle; the fact she’s the only one who hasn’t moved out yet a running joke in our family.

“Mom will take good care of you.” I bend down to give her forehead a quick kiss before leaving her bedside.

Monica and I are in sync, saying goodbye to everyone in record time. Not even five minutes later, we’re out of the room and on the way back to the car.

We coordinate well, even without words.

Always have.

The parking garage is illuminated by bright fluorescent lights, a cloudy sky looming outside the building, entirely fitting my mood.

We’re almost at my car when a truck pulls out of a spot close by, not slowing down despite us walking right there. I pull Monica out of the way when it looks like she might get hit.

“Hey!” My yell echoes around the concrete structure, my heart wildly beating in my chest.

The driver must have finally noticed us since the brake lights flash red right in front of our faces. Without as much as an apology or even a wave, the truck rushes out of the garage like it just caught on fire. What a jerk.

I turn to Monica, who’s trembling all over. “You okay?”

She nods with her eyes wide open, but doesn’t say a word, her gaze still stuck to the spot where the truck just disappeared.

Without thinking, I pull her into my arms instinctively. My hands brush over her hair before rubbing her back. Holding her. Reassuring her. Breathing her in.

After a few minutes, she finally stops shaking.

Her hands come up to my chest before wiping at her face. “I thought he was gonna hit me, the same way it happened with my accident last year. I completely froze.”

That must be slightly traumatizing to have something similar happen again.

The thought of her getting hurt in any capacity spears me right through the heart. I pull her closer, squeezing her as a tiny sob escapes her mouth. “Hey, hey. Shh. It’s all good, I got you.” She melts into me, and my stomach clenches almost painfully. I hate seeing her like this. Truly hate it. “Let’s get you home.”

She nods but won’t let go of me as we walk the rest of the way to the car. Our walk is a weird shuffle, but I couldn’t care less.

This moment has thrown all previous worries I had about us out the window and made one thing crystal clear. If this woman wants me, she can have me, in whatever way she’d like.

The way she almost got hit by the truck—the sheer thought of her getting hurt, or worse, losing her—incited something within me, making me realize I’d regret it until the end of time if I didn’t have her when I had the chance.

Any time with her is better than none at all. I’ll just deal with the consequences later on.

But first things first. I need to get her home and make sure she calms down. I don’t ever want to see her this shaken up and scared again.

* * *

Where the hell is she?

“Monica?”

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