Page 24 of Pieces of Me

“Hey!” Maggie calls, walking toward us with the first-aid kit we keep in the office. “You must’ve had some night, huh?”

I sure did.

I glance at Jamie, but she doesn’t respond, too busy looking at the wreckage.

Maggie’s gaze flicks to mine quickly before focusing on Jamie again. She stops right beside me when she says, her words for Jamie, “Holden said you have quite a gnarly gash on your head, so I’m just going to check it out real quick.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Jamie mumbles.

“Maybe not, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Really, it’s—”

“Just let her look at it,” I groan. “I will not be responsible for any brain trauma you may have developed because you’re too stubborn to—”

“Holden!” Maggie snaps. I roll my eyes at her, too, though I’m not sure she can see it through the glare she’s throwing my way.

I lower the tailgate and motion for Jamie to sit. She doesn’t. And since I’m out of eye-rolls and—according to Maggie—not able to speak my thoughts, I grasp Jamie’s waist—ignoring her protest—and effortlessly pick her up and sit her ass down. “Be good,” I say, smirking, then force my hands deep in my pockets to avoid the temptation of touching her again. Man, those curves are something else.

I leave them there and join my dad and Henry, the local mechanic. “Son,” Dad greets with a nod.

I return his gesture, say, “Pops.” Then I ask Henry, “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Henry spends the next few minutes showing me the damage to the vehicle: busted windshield, body damage, but—according to him—it’s the driver-side tire and axle that took the worst hit. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it or if it needs replacing.” Henry mainly deals with farming equipment, the occasional older vehicle, but I don’t know that he’s ever worked on an RV before.

“How did she even get out?” Dad asks, scratching at his temple.

Henry points to the semi-open driver’s window facing the ditch. “I think she crawled out.”

“That tiny space?” Dad says.

“Sheisprettytiny,” I murmur. In fact, I’d forgotten just how tiny she was until she was standing right in front of me.

“Is it salvageable?” Jamie asks, and my eyes shift to her. The dried blood is gone from her forehead, replaced with bruising I hadn’t noticed, along with a few butterfly bandages.

Henry throws her a pitiful smile. “I can get it out of the ditch for you, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to have a look at it. I don’t have a suitable car lift in my garage. So I’ll have to make a few calls and see who has. Even if I did, my lot’s full at the moment, so…”

“So… like, a few days?”

“Hopefully,” Henry answers.

Jamie nods. “So, okay.” She seems to be running through all future scenarios in her mind. “I’ll just need to find somewhere to stay for a few days. Any suggestions?”

Henry nods. “There’s a bed-and-breakfast over in Justice.”

Maggie returns from putting the first aid kit back in their truck. “That place closed a few months ago. Bed bugs and termites.”

“Gross,” I whisper.

“There’s always the local hostel,” Henry suggests.

“No!” Dad’s quick to insist, and everyone looks at him, wide-eyed. Even Jamie. “Sorry, I’m not letting you stay there. Only summer hands and drifters stay there, and please don’t take this wrong—I’m not saying that they’ll do anything—but an attractive young girl like yourself… I, personally, wouldn’t be comfortable.”

I can’t even remember the last time Dad strung a sentence together that used that many words.

“I’m a bit of a drifter myself,” Jamie says. “I’ll be fine.”

“He’s right, Jamie,” Maggie chimes in. “You can stay with us for a couple of days. Just until they know what’s going on.”

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