Page 31 of Faker
“I can see that.”
The sunshine is blinding, and when I squint up at him, I can barely make out his face. He seems to notice and moves, blocking the glare with the back of his head. I get a better look at him and am surprised at the deep crease of concern in his forehead.
He brushes the gravel off my face. “Your hard hat slipped partway off when you fell, and you hit your head.” Worry fills his eyes. It’s the strangest sensation knowing that it’s meant for me.
I wiggle out of his grip for a moment, wobbling on my own. “Um, I...”
“Here. Sit down.”
He lowers me down to the ground, leaning my back against the wood beams of the house. I search my brain for words to speak, but I can’t seem to find any. It’s like an invisible blanket has covered all the words I want to use.
Blinking over and over is my only clarity. Then I notice that the entire Nuts & Bolts homebuilding crew has stopped working to stand around me. Seconds later, my ears register an angry tone. Tate’s angry tone.
“So no one thought it would be wise to make sure the worksite was cleared of debris?”
Slowly, I spin my head to look at everyone. They all have frightened, wide-eyed stares. I don’t fault them. Hostile Tate is scary.
Tate crouches down to me. When he speaks, his tone is now soft, an impressive flip from the anger he displayed just seconds ago. “You look like you have a concussion. You need to go to the hospital.”
I rub the left side of my head, which I now realize is faintly sore. “What are you, a doctor?”
“No, but I’m taking you to see one right now.”
“I can go on my own.”
“Like hell you can. I’ll take you.”
“Crap, Emmie, are you okay?” Jamie appears out of thin air on my right side.
I open my mouth to speak, but Tate beats me to it. “She fell off a ladder and hit her head. She’s clearly not okay.”
Lynn scurries over, and the three of them stand above me, converging in urgent tones. I try to focus so I can properly eavesdrop, but my head is a cloud. Nothing seems to make sense. I pull my phone from my outer thigh pocket and scroll through my texts. I can’t make sense of any of it. Slowly, panic sets in. Why can’t I read the words on my phone? Why can’t I process what everyone is saying around me?
I elbow Tate’s leg and hold my phone up at him. “I can’t read what this says.”
The horror in those three pairs of eyes is too much to take. Tears burn at my waterlines as I shed every bit of my professional facade. I don’t understand why or how, but I’m in a dire state, and I don’t care who sees me falling apart right now.
Not even a second later, I’m hauled up by Tate’s hands. Calloused, firm, warm hands. Hands I want to hold me forever. When I take a breath, the spice of his cologne mixed with the musk of his sweat fills my lungs. In all the chaos of this moment, it’s strangely soothing.
Jamie reaches for me, but Tate turns me away from him. “It’s fine. I’ve got her.” The tone he uses makes it sound like a warning. Jamie steps away, crossing his arms against his chest.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Lynn says.
“No way.” I may be out of it, but I know that if I step foot inside an ambulance, I’ll fully lose it. The fluorescent lights, being strapped to a gurney, paramedics poking and prodding at me.
“It’s fine. Your insurance will cover it,” Jamie says.
“No, just... no. No ambulance. I mean it.” The pain hardens my voice into a strange mix of terrified and no-nonsense.
“I’ll drive her to the hospital,” Tate says. “It’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance anyway.”
I nod my head in agreement. A car ride with Tate sounds infinitely better.
Lynn puts her phone back. “Let me grab her purse, and I’ll help you walk her to your car.”
Lynn is barely five feet two inches, and I don’t want to crush her as I wobble, so I lean most of my weight on Tate. Jamie offers to help along the way, but Tate snaps a refusal. The steady way Tate walks, he seems to support me with ease. The urge to retch hits, and I let out a single dry heave. Lynn asks if I need to stop, but I shake my head.
“This is definitely a concussion. She needs to see a doctor now.” Tate’s blunt words register just as his car comes into view. More bickering follows.
