Page 4 of Beyond the Blue Horizon
“Hey, buddy.” It was impossible to keep it light and easy with the dread that barreled through, my words gritting against the thickness that held the air. “Your mommy is right here. She’s okay. You’re okay.”
At least, I hoped to God they were.
From where I stood, I couldn’t see any visible injuries on the child, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t suffering something internally.
“Does anything hurt, little man?” Tried to inject lightness into the question, hoping not to freak the kid out any more than he already was.
His head swished erratically in his seat, and he pressed his chest up against the restraints. “I not hurt. I want my mommy!”
I could feel the woman finally break through the haze. No doubt, her son’s pleas drove her to coherency. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy is right here. We just had a little accident. It’s okay.”
“O-kay.” He drew it out on this little cry, though his fear was tempered by her voice.
The woman shifted to peer at the older woman in the passenger seat who looked to be maybe in her early seventies. Just as confused as the driver, her gray hair sticking up all over the place as she tried to process what had happened.
“Are you okay, Nelly?” The words heaved from the driver.
The older woman inhaled a steadying breath.
“I think so. Might have scared the pants off me, but it doesn’t feel like any of these old bones are out of sorts any more than they normally are.”
The driver nodded, then started to fumble around to unbuckle.
“Think you should stay right there until we get someone out here to check you all out,” I warned.
“I’m fine,” she wheezed, ignoring my instruction.
“You have a nasty gash.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Before I could convince her otherwise, she was on her knees, turning around, and crawling through the narrow gap between the seats.
My guts clenched in uncontrollable greed as the dome light overhead illuminated the striking contours of her face.
Fuck me.
This woman was stunning.
The kind of exquisite that could cut through every roughed layer of a hardened man.
Crack him wide open and make him believe there might be a chance of beautiful things.
Too bad I had the propensity of destroying the beautiful.
That didn’t seem to sway the urge at all because my fingers itched to reach out and explore.
Wanting to drag them through her long hair that was so white it was nearly the color of the snow.
Trace them along a face that was a painting of perfection. Defined but soft on the edges.
Cheeks flushed from the adrenaline.
Lips plump and pink.
But maybe what was really stealing my breath was her fierce determination as she fought her way to her son.
Blood gushing from that cut and tenacity dripping from her veins.
