Page 127 of Chasing Headlines
“I've tried to have patience for you being younger than me.”
He’s trying to have patience with me?I wasn't sure if he actually had a second head on top of that thick neck of his, or maybe my brain was finally leaking out of the widening crack in my skull.
His hands gripped my shoulders. A dimmer version of the world came back into focus.
“I'm going to get Hilda. You sit. And if I see Liv, I'll suggest she sit on your lap to help you stay put.”
For some reason, I sat. And then I guess my highly suggestible cracked brain decided to consider having Milline in my lap. But I didn't want her sitting with that nice ass of hers settled against the front of my jeans. No, she should definitely sit with those long legs straddling my waist, and?—
I shook the image of those eyes alight with desire, and that smart mouth pressed against mine . . .
Light pierced my brain matter like something stabbing me through the eye. I clutched my head and tried to press the pieces of my skull back together. My knees protested as soon as they hit the floor. I gasped for breath.Turn it off. Whatever it is. I can't see . . .
I slumped further, my body heavy, lights blinding. A soft voice, a gasp and then her face. She kept me upright. Her arms around me, my body not under my control. My head weighed too much to lift.
“Hilda, please. What can we do?”
“Take him to the hospital.”
A weak protest didn't make it past my lips. I hated hospitals.Please don't take me there.
Her eyes met mine. “I'm sorry.”
A gentle hum pulled me from a dark place. The world rumbled. I sat up. In a seat. With glass under my head. It vibrated and jarred my brain from sleep. A groan tore from my lips as I tried to steady the world around me.
Milline sat beside me. In a car. I frowned.Hers?What the hell was going on? Where was she taking me?
“We'll be there in about three more minutes.”
“Where?”
“Emergency care. You have a concussion.”
I swallowed and closed my eyes. The world inside the blackness was cold. It reminded me of the emptiness that swallowed my mother's life whole.
Her hand on my cheek. I covered it with mine. A soft, glassy look in her eyes. “I remember when your tiny fists could barely fit around my finger.”
Don't go there. Don't think. It hurts.
“You'll be. A good man, Breslin. Don't get lost in . . . your dreams.”
What did that even mean? I couldn't tell if she was lucid, then. Or dreaming, herself.
The car pulled to a stop. I opened the door, but couldn't get out of the seat. She leaned over me, unbuckling me from the restraint. A floral scent wafted into my consciousness. I shivered, but her warmth caught me around the ribs. I tried to stand, and she steadied me. The car door clicked shut.
And then we moved. She matched my stride, I leaned too much, but she didn't even miss a beat. The world blurred and changed when I opened my eyes. Strips and stripes of theevening faded as the splitting headache, the swollen lump on my forehead . . . finally subsided.
Her holding ice on my temple. Answering questions I didn't have answers to. Sitting beside me whenever I could wedge my eyes open.
Doctors in and out, tests of my reflexes. Follow the light . . .
At some point, Coach Eberhardt showed up. By then my brain felt a little less like it was going to remain a throbbing, smushy pin cushion covering the outside of my skull. I was a bit more alert and comprehending my circumstances.Not that I want to. Can I go back to being clueless?
I, an underaged college student, had gotten drunk . . . in a bar. Headbutted a mechanical bull like the biggest moron on two big dumb feet. The fact that I was serving probation under local sheriff oversight further demonstrated what an imbecile I've been. And probably why Deputy Reegan was standing in the corner of my hospital room.
How long have I been like this? Sleepwalking through a dimly lit hallway, directionless? Drifting . . .
“What were you thinking, Olivia? You should have taken him straight here, two days ago.” Coach's voice filtered through the cracked open doorway.