Page 6 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“All the more reason to get your head checked,” Ford points out.
“I don’t need the doctor to tell me I should take it easy for a day or two.”
“Sorry, but self-diagnosis is a no-go,” Kenny persists. “You could be more injured than you realize.”
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath. “But save the emergency vehicles for people really who need them. I can drive myself to the ER.”
“NO WAY!” Ford shakes his head, like he’s scolding me. “Driving after a head injury is totally unsafe. The fact that you’re even suggesting it proves you’re at least a little bit off.”
I blink up at him, chagrined.
What if Ford is right?My brain could be swelling right now, influencing my decision-making. And even on non-brain-injury days, I’m prone to bad choices.
Like falling for Sara Hathaway in the first place.
“Besides.” Ford shrugs. “We were running around the lake, so you don’t have a car here, remember? None of us does.”
“I do,” Sara says softly. “I drove a rental out from the city.”She leans over me, and a whisper of her perfume slams my brain even harder than that fire extinguisher. “This is all my fault,” she adds, her voice a little breathless. “I can take Three to the hospital.”
I cringe. “Absolutely not.”
Ford darts his gaze at me, a flash of amusement in his eyes, then he turns to Kenny. “Guess you better call the rig, then.”
“Don’t.” I clench my jaw, sending more pain spiraling through my cranium.
“We’re kinda out of other options,” Kenny insists.
“So what do you say, man?” Ford asks. His mouth slips sideways. “Life-saving vehicle, or Sara?”
Oof.What’s the bigger emergency?
I heave out a groan.“I pick Option C.”
Chapter Three
Sara
Newsflash, there is no Option C.
But ultimately Ford came up with a compromise: I’d drop all the men off at Ford’s. Then Ford and Three would drop Kenny off at his house. Then Ford could drive Three up to Northampton to drop Three off at the ER.
Yes, that’s a whole lot of dropping. But I’m used to that in Abieville.
Especially Three dropping me.
The good news? I didn’t actually have to drive Three to the hospital. Unnecessary time alone with him is the last thing I need. Plus Bristol would kill me if she found out I volunteered to do it.
So you’re probably wondering whyI decided to brave the snowy roads and follow Ford’s car all the way to Northampton anyway. The answer is guilt, plain and simple. Seeing Three all fogged-up and disoriented on the kitchen floor had me kind of queasy. He looked so vulnerable and blurry-eyed and shaggy-haired. And I was to blame for any potential injury he might’ve sustained.
Amto blame, I mean.
So I just had to make sure I didn’t mortally wound Three. One quick trip to the ER, and I’d be back to isolating myself at the lake house until Christmas Eve.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Joy to the world.
That’s what I hum to myself on the drive to Northampton. All the houses on the way are decked out with lights across the rooftops and wreaths on the front doors. Most of the windows have electric candles glowing in them. They don’t do that in the city, and I kinda love that about this place.
