Page 80 of Mistlefoe
I gasp—that’s all I can do as I watch Conor take a step back to look up. But the movement causes whatever he’s been pulling to come loose, and as it slides down it sends more junk tumbling.
“Conor!”
He puts an arm up but that’s not enough. The piece of booth knocks a big box over and it falls on Conor’s head.
The same head he once told me was a ticking bomb.
And down he goes.
CHAPTER 27
CONOR
Groaning is the only thing I can do for a hot moment.
I don’t know what hurts more, if my freaking head or the shoulder I landed on. I hear my name over and over, and it only registers that it’s from Sierra when I feel her hands on my chest, on my face, on my arm.
“Conor, please tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I slur, turning over to my back. I try opening my eyes and the white overhead light stabs them in a way that tears another pained noise out of my throat.
“Open your eyes, tell me how many fingers you see.”
I squeeze them instead. “The light?—”
“Conor, please!” The desperation in her voice forces me to try.
This time her head is right above mine and the light doesn’t stab my head anymore, but part of her face is blurry and the one thing that’s clear to me is that there are tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” I lift my hand towards her face, but she traps it in hers.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You’re the one who got hurt! Do you see my fingers?”
“Two,” I rasp the word out.
“Any dancing lights?”
I squint. “Kinda?” There are some popping flashes here and there, nothing worse than the throbbing on my temple.
“That’s it, we’re going to the hospital.”
“I’m fine, I just need a second to get my bearings.”
“No.” Her voice is harsh and brokers no argument. “We’re going. Can you move?”
I tighten my jaw to not make a single peep as I haul myself up to sitting. I stretch out my hands behind me to balance myself, and one of them falls over a familiar object. My glasses. I feel like I sway slightly as I lift them up for inspection. They’re fine, just like I am.
As I put on my glasses, I say, “Sierra, it’s not so bad. My bell’s just a bit rung but I’ll be fine in a moment and then we can get the booths.”
“Booths my ass, we’re going to get you checked out by a professional.” She grabs both of my arms and makes a brave attempt at pushing me to my feet, except I have at least fifty pounds and about a foot on her.
Sighing, I slightly turn on my side to pull myself up. It takes a lot more effort than it should, but no one would be fully functional after almost getting conked out.
Once I’m on my feet, Sierra slides my arm around her shoulder and walks me out of the warehouse. The more steps we take, the clearer my head starts to get, which would be a great sign if it wasn’t for my noggin throbbing like a toothache.
We stop by the receptionist and Sierra’s the one who speaks. “I’m so sorry, I’m afraid my partner just had an accident in the warehouse and I’ll take him to get checked out. May I please have the CEO’s card so I can call her back?”
“I’m okay, she’s just being overly cautious,” I say.
