James screeched to a halt, the truck’s brakes squealing in protest. He leaped out of the vehicle into the rain, his heart beating a frantic rhythm, a tribal drum of fear.
The man in the car that hit Ellie was slumped over the steering wheel, the deflated airbag hanging like a blanket in his lap. One look at the car told James that guy wasn’t going anywhere. Fishing his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed 911 and raced toward Ellie.
She hung suspended by her seatbelt, unconscious, blood dripping from her head. Her arms dangled, and she remained unresponsive as James counted his heartbeats until the paramedics arrived.
One arm was clearly fractured. She had a minor gash on the back of her head and a pretty major gash at her temple. James rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital and answered every question the paramedics asked.
“She’s pregnant,” he said when they asked for pertinent medical history.
“Does she plan on keeping the baby?” The EMT paused, a hypodermic needle millimeters from piercing her skin.
James didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The EMT sighed and put the needle away. “We should be thankful she’s unconscious right now. She’s gonna be in a lot of pain when she wakes up.”
“Why? Can’t she have anything for the pain?”
He shook his head. “Nothing stronger than ibuprofen.”
When they arrived at the hospital, they rolled Ellie away on a stretcher, rattling off her vital signs amidst a flurry of medical jargon that had James’ heart in his throat.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, he prayed as he settled into an uncomfortable chair, readying himself for the wait.
However long it took.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ellie
Ellie woke in blips of consciousness, but every time her eyes blinked open, they felt like sandpaper, harsh and gritty. She tried to swallow, to wet her dry tongue so she could speak, but the effort felt monumental and the world spun until her eyes invariably fluttered closed again.
There were so many questions.
And so much pain.
She remembered the storm. She remembered running to her car. She remembered the hollow feeling of despair in her chest as she drove away. Her heart had been broken—but she couldn’t remember why.
Her memories were there—just out of reach—but trying to access them was like holding water in her hand, the more she struggled, the faster they slipped away.
She needed time.
Time to rest and time to heal.
Someone came to her bedside, their gentle hands on her face, smoothing back her hair. “It’s okay, sweet Ellie,” said a voice. “It’s all going to be okay.”
She tried to murmur her agreement but slipped back into the dark waters of unconsciousness before her lips could form the words.
When Ellie woke again the next afternoon, she found James asleep in the chair beside her, his head resting on the edge of her hospital bed, his fingers twining hers on the arm that wasn’t throbbing in pain. Seeing him brought that hollow feeling back to her chest, but without the fog of confusion she had before.
She’d told him about the baby. And he hadn’t taken it well.
Yet there he was, by her side.
Why?
Ellie struggled to sit up, desperate to understand where she was and get her bearings on what happened. But she couldn’t bring herself to let go of James’ hand.
With one arm occupied and the other in traction and aching, the raspy sound of her groans as she squirmed herself up in bed woke James from his dream.
Through bleary eyes he smiled wide when he saw her awake. “Oh, my sweet Ellie, I thought I’d lost you.”
Her mind raced with questions. “What are you…? How did I…?
“Shh.” James carefully placed his finger to her lips. “There’s no need to worry about any of that. The only thing you need to focus on now is healing, my love.”
The next few days were hell. She couldn’t have anything stronger than ibuprofen because of the baby and she writhed in pain as a result. Her arm and head were an agony she wasn’t sure she could endure. She couldn’t think over the pain. Couldn’t hear the well-wishes people stopped in to offer.
Through it all, James sat at her side. He didn’t speak—other than to ask what she needed. He didn’t expect anything of her; he just wiped the sweat from her brow and reminded her that it would all be okay. And eventually it was. The pain receded, finally subsiding enough that she could think in a straight line again.
But that brought a different kind of pain, because she didn’t know what it meant that he was there with her. Didn’t know if it was guilt that had kept him in her corner. And most importantly, she didn’t know if she’d been forgiven for her lie.
Fear that his presence was still part of the fairy tale crept up until she couldn’t take a full breath.
James slept in a cot they wheeled into her room. He ate at the cafeteria and always brought back treats that he fed to Ellie with the patience of a saint. He brought a brush for her hair and laughed at himself when he realized you didn’t brush curly hair. He brushed her teeth. He helped her to the bathroom. He was everything she needed. Still. And more.
When he was confident Ellie was ready, he explained what happened that fateful night. How regret had taken hold almost immediately and drove him to follow her. His teeth clenched as he described watching Ben ram her. And how the cops pulled him from his car, raving and wild, a frenzied animal spewing threats on Ellie’s life. He explained how Ben went to the hospital in handcuffs while he rode in the ambulance with her.
On the day Ellie was released, James helped her into his truck and leaned
