Page 41 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

with a bit of grease on her cheeks. I wanted to kiss her, but that

thought quickly faded when I saw her crying. Now, I know things can

be different. If we can help each other heal, then who knows…

Maybe there is healing here bigger than even I can imagine.

That thought is ripped away from me suddenly, seeing a puddle of oil

coming out of an engine that looks to have fallen through the frame

of the lifted car. The body seems lighter now, almost flimsy while I

shake it slightly just to see the engine is actually on the ground.

The oil on the floor comes into view more, and the burgundy color

becomes brighter and more crimson as I approach it. Walking

around the car, I see pale ankles first, then Leah’s blonde hair ruined

with black dust and red blood.

I dive to the floor and wrestle her in my arms, surprised the engine

didn’t crush her by the looks of how close she is to the metal ball of

an engine that it has become. She whines in my arms, hissing a

breath when her shoulder brushes my forearm and leaves a streak of

red behind.

“Dammit,” I grunt, rushing towards my car at once. I set her down in

the backseat, knowing my phone signal wouldn’t do shit out here,

and slam the door shut once she’s comfortably laid down on her side.

I should stop the bleeding, but instead, I drive recklessly around the

gravel road until I hit the concrete. “It’s okay, Leah. You’ll be alright.”

She moans her reply, the sound pained and frustrated while I hurry

to get her to the hospital. The large white building comes into view,

and I can’t help but give a sigh of relief when I pull up against the

lobby doors and get out at the same time as the medical staff. At first,

they seem upset at my reckless driving, which is understandable, but

the minute I open the back door, the energy shifts.

There are nurses everywhere, scattered as they pull Leah out of the

backseat and onto a gurney. I brush her hair off her face, a splotch of

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