The horrifying scene played out frame by agonizing frame.
Natalie twisted to avoid the vehicle, and before impact, her arms flew out, then up over her head, and her eyes, goddamn, they squeezed shut as if bracing for impact. Then she was out of sight.
Her handbag hit the windshield, blowing apart, its contents erupting like confetti.
No squealing tires. No crunch of metal. No sickening thud. The SUV sped off.
By the time I reached her, Natalie lay twisted on the pavement, hair tangled around her face, a pool of blood under her head.
I fell to my knees at her side, desperate to hold her, screaming for help. I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911.
A male voice answered. I couldn’t form a coherent word.
People surrounded us.
A man dropped to his knees near her head.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” I shoved him away. “I don’t know if she was hit or not.”
The 911 operator continued talking. I shoved my phone into the guy’s hand. “Give them the address.”
My vision blurred, heat prickling my eyes. I crawled over her body, shielding, assessing. “Baby. Natalie. Sweetheart.”
Her chest rose and fell.
“I’m here. I’m right here. Don’t try to move.” If I lost her, I’d rip everyone in that goddamn town to shreds.
“Please, baby. Please be okay. I love you. I love you so goddamn much. Please be okay,” I pleaded, my knees, my hands, stained with her blood.
“What the fuck happened?” the man at my side asked.
I watched her chest for signs of distress. Her breaths were steady.
“Oh, God!” A woman screamed, “Is that Natalie?”
Natalie’s chest continued to rise and fall. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
“Good girl. Keep breathing. Please be okay.”
“Cole?” A moan escaped her lips.
A sob escaped mine.
I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m right here. Don’t try to move. Wait for the ambulance.”
“My head hurts,” she mumbled, her speech slurred.
“You’re bleeding a little bit. Don’t move.”
“What happened?”
“Some fucker tried to run you down.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her voice weak.
Light as I could manage, I brushed hair off her face, away from her eyes and mouth. Her lips were bloody, and my stomach revolted at what that could mean.
“You’re gonna be fine, though. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
“Cole?” She coughed, more blood trickling from her mouth.
I pinched my eyes tight, fighting the emotion, then met her sleepy gaze. “Yeah, baby?”
“Will you marry me?”
Never in my life had I cried in public. Rarely in private. But there on the dirty ground, surrounded by complete strangers, I cried and half laughed at her ridiculous timing.
“It’s not funny. I’m serious. Will you marry me?” She smiled a morbid, bloody smile.
Sirens wailed.
Her lids fluttered shut, then lifted slow. “I’m tired.”
“Try to stay awake, please? I need you to do that for me.”
“You’re crying.” She gagged, then turned her head to spit blood.
I could only nod.
Her lids fell again and didn’t open.
“Cole. Son.” My body shook, and I bolted upright, blinking the room into focus.
Natalie lay in the same spot, eyes closed, monitors whirring. Her mother stood over the bed, her father stood over me, a hand on my shoulder, his eyes dark, sunken.
“You made it.” My dry throat cracked.
“Thanks for calling.” He stepped back and cleared his throat.
I pushed to stand, and the moment I was upright, Charles pulled me into a tight embrace. “Thank God you were here for her.”
“Thank God is right,” Linda whispered.
“Any word from the police?” Charles asked.
“Not yet. But the security cameras caught everything. They’re trying to pull a license plate number.”
Linda squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Doctors said she’ll be fine. Six stitches on the back of her head. No concussion, by some miracle. Twisted ankle. Bit her tongue pretty hard.”
I laughed. Fucking twisted ankle saved her life.
Charles and Linda looked at me like I was crazy.
I explained. “If she hadn’t caught her heel in that damn crack, that Cadillac would’ve hit her.”
“Fate,” Linda whispered, eyes welling.
I scrubbed at my facial hair. “They wanna keep her for twenty-four hours, keep an eye on her.”
“That’s good.” Charles studied my rumpled, soiled clothes. “Why don’t you go clean up. Come back after you get some rest and a good meal in you.”
Hell no. I wasn’t leaving her side.
“We won’t let her out of our sight, Son. I promise.” His patriarchal tone left no room for argument.
“Yeah,” I conceded. “I’ll do that.”
“You staying at her place?”
Fuck. “Yeah. No worries, I can check into a hotel.”
“Don’t be silly,” Linda said, waving her hand at me. “You have a key?”
If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a twinkle in her eyes.
“She gave me her spare this morning.”
I kissed Natalie’s pale cheek and said my goodbyes. Darkness greeted me when I stepped outside. My cell said it was 1:27 AM. God, I needed sleep. The drive to Natalie’s place passed in a blur. On autopilot, I showered, shaved, choked down a sandwich.
Will you marry me?
I laughed.
Crazy woman.
For the first time, I took time to study her place. The kitchen was clean, tidy. Simple. White granite counters. Stainless steel appliances. Turquoise tea kettle on the stove. Bright floral curtains on the window, a bright yellow dishtowel hanging on a hook near the sink.
Her living room was much the same. White walls, bright orange couch. Splashes of yellows and greens in the throw blankets, pillows, and artwork. A wall-to-wall window boasted a priceless view of the lake.
The hallway leading to the bedrooms held framed photos of her family, candids of her and Lacey. At least ten of baby Leon. And holy shit, photos of me, too. Some blown up and framed. A few looked as if they’d been printed from home and tacked to the wall. Most of them taken when I wasn’t looking. Some of me sleeping. One of me through the window of CFC, mid spar with Ellis.
Yeah. She was mine. But I’d been hers from day one.
I forced my feet forward when I wanted to fall to
