Page 60 of Canvas of Lies
Something damp dripped down my cheek, but I couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears. The world still twirled outside the stillness of the vehicle, spinning for several minutes until the waves of dizziness dissipated. At that point, I realized my head was pressed against the window and tried to sit back against the seat—it took every remaining ounce of strength just to lift my head.
When I wiped the back of my hand against my cheekbone, the streak of blood on my skin cut through the fog.
“Nico!”
I managed to blink him into focus only to see the airbag deflating in front of him. His eyes were closed, his body still as death, just as it had been that day in the forest. My seatbelt locked when I tried to reach over to check for a pulse, then I saw his chest lift and fall with a breath and went limp with relief.
Harsh gasps burst from my lips until I slapped a hand over my mouth to quiet them. Eventually, my panic waned a little, enough for me to realize we couldn’t just sit here and wait for the SUV to return.
“Phone. Phone,” I muttered, wrestling with the belt buckle.
I needed to call for help. That goal filled my mind and blocked out everything else, even the throbbing pain in my cheekbone.
My fingers were sluggish, but once I managed to free myself from the seatbelt, I bent down to find the phone that had fallen by my feet. The screen was blessedly intact, though it took me several shaky attempts to unlock the device. I hit redial on the previous 911 call and almost cried when the same operator spoke.
“We need help,” I gasped around the tears that clogged my throat. “Please, I think he’s hurt. Someone just ran us off the road. We need help.”
The calm voice on the other end assured me they had officers on their way already and encouraged me to stay on the line. When I was ready to break down completely upon seeing the ashen tint to Nico’s normally golden skin, the operator walked me through checking the pulse in his throat. It was strong andsteady under my fingertips, soothing me until the sound of sirens grew close.
“They’re coming,” I whispered. “I’m going to hang up now. Thank you. Thank you.”
Nico shifted in his seat with a groan. “Kat?”
“Oh, thank god. We’re okay, Nico.”
“We’re okay,” he repeated.
He winced when he lifted his head, but his fingers laced with mine and gave a squeeze. Though I had no idea how bad I looked, the blood on my face caught his attention. In the glow of the flashing lights coming up behind us, he reached over and cupped my chin in his hand. After a moment of searching, he located the tiny cut on my cheekbone, rubbing his thumb gently below the wound.
“You’re bleeding. Why do you always end up bleeding when you’re with me?”
I gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll survive. You’re the one who was unconscious.”
“I’m okay,” Nico said softly. As he watched, my eyes fluttered closed and a single tear rolled down my uninjured cheek. “We’re both okay.”
Two police cars and an ambulance pulled up alongside the wrecked vehicle. With my phone still clutched in one blood-smeared hand and Nico gripping the other, I gave in to the waves of relief that stole through my veins.
The darkness tugged me down, down, and the last thing I saw was a female EMT with bright red hair peering through the web of cracks in the passenger window.
Withnoideahowmuch time had passed, I reluctantly opened my eyes, only to squeeze them shut again under the bright lights of a hospital room. For a brief second, I wondered if I could slip away into the peaceful darkness again, then my lids flew wide and I sat up so quickly the room spun.
“Easy there, easy,” a man in navy scrubs said gently.
“How long was I out? Where’s Nico?” I demanded.
I waited only until my vision steadied before trying to swing my legs over the side of the bed. It wasn’t a hospital room after all, just a curtained section of a larger area.
“Is this the emergency room?”
“Yes, at Eastman Memorial.”
I grimaced. There was no hospital in Spruce Hill, so the ambulance had brought us into the city. “And Nico?”
“Your friend will be just fine, Ms. Willoughby. I believe they’re getting his discharge paperwork ready. I’m Dr. Thorne, and you’ve only been out for a few minutes. The ambulance just brought you both in. You were only unconscious for the duration of the ride.”
The doctor eased me back onto the bed and checked my pupils with a tiny flashlight. I squinted against the brightness, but he smiled reassuringly.
“No signs of a concussion, which is a good thing. How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?”
