Page 5 of Just a Little Crush
Oh god, oh no. It’s not a person, it’s my phone. Somewhere my audiobook is still playing. I try to look around for it, but my neck hurts too much to look far. It must have gotten thrown about in the crash.
I reach down blindly and manage to release my seatbelt, which gives me a little more breathing room, but shifting any further is impossible with the roof bearing down on me. My wrist twinges when I try to push open my door, and besides, it’s blocked by a branch, leaves poking inside, filling whatever space they can. I try to push them out to make more space, but I scratch my arm on a conker shell, and tears spring to my eyes. This is so bad, I’m trapped. Properly trapped. My chest feels tight. I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I need to calm down. I need help. Where is my phone?
Think Bec, think.
OK. This could be worse. I’m OK. I’m alive. I’m not hurt, not bad, I don’t think. Just sore. I will be OK. I just need to hang tight and someone will come.Breath Rebecca. Reframe. Turn that negative into a positive.
I can do this. I am merely a woman having a pause during her working day, listening to her book.
Focus on the words Rebecca. Focus on those sweet, spicy words. Someone will come.
I snort at the innuendo. There is something almost funny about this. Me, trapped here, completely helpless in the company of a smutty romance. Thank god I put one on or I’d be panicking much more in silence.
I think of my shop, of Alyssa getting back and the Saturday staff wondering where I am. Will they know how to close up without me? I think of my parents, no doubt enjoying a boozy lunch in the sunshine somewhere. I think of Rennie. I’ve no idea what he’s doing today, but I bet he looks damn good doing it.
And just like that, I’m back to imagining it’s me and Rennie in this book.Bec and Rennie up against a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G.
What is wrong with me? I must be the only person on this planet who would get horny in a car accident.Oh god. Please, someone come find me soon.
4
Rennie
It’sonlyamatterof time before the call we’ve all been expecting comes in. A tree down, blocking a country road, a car crushed underneath. The caller can’t get close enough to see how many people are involved.
The location is right between us and the nearest crew, but they’ve been called to a warehouse fire, so we’re on the road in under a minute.
We’re almost there when it occurs to me that this is the back road up to the Fenwick estate. Didn’t Bec say she’d booked a wedding here today? The thought is a seed that grows rapidly, roots spreading out across my stomach, vines winding up through my chest, tightening their grip until I can barely breathe.
I know it before I see it. The car. Bec’s car.
I try to get out of the cab before we’ve even come to a stop. “Get out of my way.” I barge past my crew and I’m storming towards her, jumping over fallen debris to get close. We’ve come from the opposite side to whoever called this in, and from here the rear driver side of her car is mostly visible, but the front is now half the height under the weight of a gigantic oak.
“Bec, Bec!” I duck under a limb of the tree and tear away at the branches and leaves covering her window until I find her slumped forward with her head in her hands.
“Bec, oh god, oh sweetheart, are you OK?” She slowly turns her gaze towards me and starts screaming.
“Ahhh oh god oh no. Noooo.” She starts mumbling and ranting, and I can’t make out a word. Loud moans fill the car.
“Are you hurt? Stay still, just tell me where it hurts.”
“Siri! Siri! Stop now. La la la la la. OK Google. Shut down.Shut. Down. Phone. Now!”
“Is she OK?” Leon asks over my shoulder.
“She’s babbling, I think she has a concussion.”
“Ambulance is on the way. Do you think she’ll need to be sedated?”
“Noooo,” she screams. “No needles. NO!” Fear fills her eyes, she tries to get out of the car and starts screaming again. Shit, I’d forgotten how afraid of them she is. We shouldn’t have let her hear us.
I crouch beside her door and reach in to cup her face. “Bec, listen to me. You need to stop shouting and be still for a second. Just look at me, look into my eyes and breathe.”
There’s not a lot of space between us, most of it filled with my helmet, but when our eyes lock she stops screaming. Then I hear a man’s voice.
“I’m gonna do bad dirty things to you, you little whore.”
It’s a gruff, American, male voice. What the hell? Who is that?
