Page 60 of To Belong Together
Fifteen minutes later, some of the biggest snowflakes she’d ever seen plopped against the windshield. Stiff as he looked, John would need a massage when this was over.
She caught herself rubbing her fingers together, imagining making the offer to give him one. That would probably be getting too carried away. She stilled her hands. “It’s like driving into a flock of seagulls.”
The attempt to lighten the mood fell on deaf ears.
She ought to try massaging his neck. No other cars drove near them. It wouldn’t be the most dangerous moment to try something, except the danger inside the car loomed high. He’d been nothing but a friend all day. An unwelcome advance would spell the end of whatever this was, and she’d felt more comfortable with him today than she’d felt hanging out with anyone since Dad in the garage.
Between splatters on the windshield, red brake lights glowed about a quarter of a mile ahead. As she drew a breath to repeat the offer to stay over in Fox Valley, their car wrenched left, too suddenly to be a lane change. She grabbed the armrest as the vehicle spun.
After rotating three-quarters of the way around, they came to a stop in the center of the northbound highway lanes, the nose of the car pointed at the cement wall that made up the median.
All in one piece. No collision. Thank God.
They were sideways in a lane, though. She peered to the south, the direction traffic would come from. Headlights loomed in the gray distance, but they had time.
Instead of resuming their course down the freeway, John pulled forward and onto the shoulder. There, he parked abruptly before he crossed his wrists, the cast under the good one, on the top of the steering wheel and rested his head.
Had he been injured in the spinout? If he’d hit his head on the window, he could’ve earned a new or worsened concussion.
“Are you okay?” She lay her hand on his shoulder and felt him inhale. “Are you hurt?”
The traffic reached them and slushed past.
John lifted his head and breathed into one fist while pressing the other hand to the center of his chest.
“What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer, but at least he was still breathing. And he’d gotten them onto the shoulder, so he wasn’t completely impaired.
She wanted to pepper him with questions, but if something was seriously wrong, she had to get him to help. Besides, with others as likely to lose control as they had, sitting on the shoulder could spell disaster.
She stepped outside and onto the gravel-littered cement of the shoulder. She waited at the back bumper, shivering as snow splattered on her cheek and forehead until every car in sight had passed.
She hurried to John’s door and opened it. “Come on. I’m getting us out of here.”
He rubbed his face but didn’t unbuckle. Erin reached across him and pressed the button. She angled the seatbelt around his cast, then put a hand under his arm. He followed her lead more easily than she’d expected, and she walked him to the passenger side.
“Buckle in.” She paused long enough to see him start to obey, then jumped in the driver’s seat. As soon as she had an opening, she shifted into gear and hit the gas.
John measuredhis breaths in and out, each one unsteady, but his chest hurt less than it had. Right after the spin, he’d thought his heart would explode. Did he need to see a doctor? Kate would be livid if he missed the rehearsal, because if the concussion hadn’t earned him sympathy, heart problems surely wouldn’t.
Erin took the closest exit and parked in the first lot she came to, one belonging to a three-story office building. The workday appeared to be in full swing, judging by the number of cars that were getting coated by the precipitation.
John slouched in his seat, hands and legs shaking less when he didn’t try to move them. This was not how he’d wanted his day with Erin to end.
She left the car running and rested her hand on his shoulder. “That brought back your accident, didn’t it?”
No. During the wreck, he’d recognized the danger without the overwhelming sense of doom that had flooded him this time. As the car spun, he’d known life was over. His brain had been damaged in the first accident and wouldn’t survive more trauma.
But they were parked now. Safe. Only he was worse for wear.
His breathing improved, but why couldn’t he stop shaking? “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I’ve never seen a panic attack, but if I had to guess …”
Panic? The whole thing was in his head?
It’d felt so physical.
