Colliding Hearts (Rainbow Redemption)

Prologue

It starts with darkness.

A deep, pulsing darkness, like the very bowels of the earth have swallowed me whole.

My eyes are open, I’m sure, but I can’t see anything but blackness.

There’s something wet on my face. I try to lift my hand to touch it, but my arm won’t cooperate. Everything feels distant, like my body belongs to someone else.

I’m in the front seat of my car, but the metal is twisted, pinning me back against the seat. Something sharp digs into my hip, probably part of the door that’s apparently decided to relocate itself into my personal space.

Then there’s an unfamiliar voice, speaking to me with an urgency I’ve never heard before.

“Stay with me, mate, stay with me.” The guy’s voice is low and reassuring. It’s a deep voice, full of layers like a decadent chocolate cake.

Rich, comforting, and slightly addictive.

I want to respond, ask who he is and where I am, but the words won’t come.

And I’m struggling to obey the voice’s instructions because every part of me wants to surrender to the darkness that’s edging closer.

“That’s it, just keep breathing,” the voice says, low and reassuring.

“Can do…breathing,” I manage, the words thick and strange in my mouth. Something’s wrong with my face. The right side won’t move properly.

I sense rather than see him lean closer. “What’s that, mate? Say it again for me?”

“Still…breathing.” Even two words exhaust me. A metallic flavor floods my mouth. It’s definitely not a new energy drink flavor.

“I need to check your eyes. I’m going to use my phone light for just a second. Try to look straight ahead.”

Sudden brightness stabs into my left eye. I can’t help flinching.

“Good reaction. Now the right.” The light moves. This time, the pain is sharper, radiating through my skull. “A bit sluggish on this side, but reactive. That’s good.”

The light disappears, and I’m blind again, spots dancing in the darkness. I didn’t even have a chance to get a glimpse of my rescuer.

“Can you tell me your name?” chocolate-cake voice asks.

I fumble in the haze of my brain. I do have a name. It’s located somewhere around here.

“F…” My mouth won’t form the sound properly, but I persevere. “Felix.”

“Good, Felix. That’s brilliant. I’m Jared. I’m going to help you, but I need you to keep talking to me. I’m going to ask you some questions. Don’t try to nod or shake your head—just say yes or no. Understand?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out more like “yuh.”

His hands are firm but gentle against my temple. “Can you feel this?”

“Yes.”

“How about this?” Something touches my shoulder.

“Yes.”

Then my other shoulder. “How about now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s really good, Felix.”

It’s like a bizarre game of heads, shoulders, knees, and toes. But I don’t have the energy to try and get that joke through my misbehaving mouth.

Something drips into my eye. It stings. I try to blink it away, but my eyelids feel weighed down with sandbags.

“Hot,” I manage. “Face…hot.”

“That’s the swelling, mate. You’re doing brilliantly.” He leans in closer, his hands moving carefully along my arms.

“Does anything hurt?”

The left side hurts, but the right is next level. “Right,” I gasp.

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Eleven.” I try for humor, but it comes out as a whimper, which may undo the effect.

His fingers find my wrist, pressing lightly. I can hear him counting under his breath. “Pulse is fast but strong. That’s good.” I sense his hand hovering near my face. “Felix, I saw some bleeding on your face. I’m going to apply pressure and padding to stop it, okay? This might hurt.”

Something soft presses against my right cheek and lightning shoots through my skull. An inhuman sound escapes me.

“I know, I know. I need to keep pressure on this for a bit.” His other hand stays on my wrist. “Felix, do you feel dizzy at all? Lightheaded?”

“Can’t tell. Everything’s…spinning anyway.”

“Thirsty?”

“Yeah.” Weird how I hadn’t noticed until he asked.

“Are you…? Are you…?” The fuzziness around the edge of my brain seems to be claiming my words, and the rest of my sentence gets lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

Luckily, Jared has mind-reading skills, along with his chocolate-cake voice, and can fill in the blanks of what I’m trying to ask.

“I’m a paramedic. You’ve been in a car accident.

“Where…?”

“You swerved off the road, and your car has gone off a cliff and down a tomo. They’ll need to get special machinery to get you out.

In the meantime, I’m going to stay here with you, and you’re going to stay awake talking to me.

Okay, mate? Can you do that for me? I need to preserve my phone battery so I can keep the line open with emergency services, so I can’t use the torch much, but I’m right here, okay? ”

My mind latches onto something he said.

“What’s a…tomo?”

“A vertical limestone cave.”

“Good to learn some…geology,” I manage to get out, my voice still sounding scratchy and unfamiliar.

Jared huffs out what almost sounds like a laugh.

“I need to check something. Can you smile for me?”

I try. The left side of my mouth moves. The right side…nothing.

“Okay, half a smile then. That’s all right.”

“So I…pass?”

There’s definitely laughter in his voice now. “Yes, you pass.”

The air tastes wrong—the metallic flavor of blood mixed with something chemical. Petrol?

“No fuel leak,” Jared says as if reading my mind. “That’s exhaust you’re smelling. It’ll clear. Just keep breathing normally for me.”

Cold is seeping in from somewhere. My fingers are going numb.

“Felix, you’re shivering.” I hear rustling, movement in the darkness. “I’m going to put my jacket over you, try not to move.”

Something warm and heavy drapes across my chest and arms. It smells like coffee and something woodsy—cedar maybe? The warmth is immediate, seeping into my frozen fingers.

“Better?”

“Mm.” Even that small sound takes effort.

“Felix, can you squeeze my hand?” His fingers wrap around mine—the left side. I try. “Brilliant. Now, the right?”

My right hand feels disconnected, like it’s floating somewhere beside me. I concentrate, willing my fingers to move.

“I’m…trying.”

“That’s okay. You’re doing great.” His voice stays calm, but I catch something underneath. “I need to check your breathing more closely. Just relax.”

His hand rests lightly on my chest. I feel him counting silently, the weight of his palm rising and falling. Then his fingers move to my neck, pressing gently under my jaw.

“Heart’s racing a bit. Let’s try to slow that down. Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose…hold…and out through your mouth.”

I try to follow, but my nose is clogged with what I’m pretty sure is blood. The breathing comes out ragged, wrong.

“Mouth breathing is fine,” he says quickly. “Whatever works.”

We breathe together in the darkness. In. Out. In. Out. His jacket smells like safety.

“Can you tell me what day it is, Felix?”

“The day…I decided…to become a crash-test dummy?” I rasp out.

Jared gives a startled laugh, and it seems to echo through the car.

My sense of humor seems to have survived the crash.

History might debate whether that is a good or a bad thing.

“Besides that day,” he says. “Do you know what day of the week it is?”

I think hard. Thoughts slip away like fish in dark water. There was…arguing. Carlos’s face, but it keeps sliding out of focus.

“Take your time,” Jared says. “No rush.”

Friday. Something about Friday. A suit. Drinks. The memories come in fragments, not sentences.

Carlos’s work drinks. That was Friday night—he was in his suit.

And he kept cutting me off every time I tried to speak.

His hand on my arm, forcefully steering me away from conversations with his colleagues, scowling whenever I spoke up, like I was just a well-dressed accessory, there for decoration and nothing else.

Frustration floods back, surprisingly clear. How Carlos certainly seems to value what my mouth does in other contexts, but not the speaking part.

We’d fought about it on Saturday morning at brunch. I’d stormed out to go for a drive to clear my head.

“Satur…” The word catches. I swallow, taste metal again. “Saturday. Was going for a drive because of a fight with…boyfriend.”

I try to straighten, but the metal pressing into my chest quickly reminds me I’m trapped. Pain flares down my left side.

“Easy, easy. Don’t move.” Jared’s hands are back on my head, steadying.

“Can’t die.” The words tumble out in pieces. “Last thing I said…called him a muppet.”

There’s a pause. I’m drifting, the darkness pulling at me.

“Felix? What about the muppet?” Jared’s voice pulls me back.

“Called by boyfriend a self-absorbed muppet. Said his eyebrows…” I lose the thread. What about eyebrows? “Perfect. Too perfect.”

“You called your boyfriend a self-absorbed muppet with too-perfect eyebrows?”

“Yes. He’ll think…his fault. That I crashed.” The thoughts are jumbled but urgent. “If I die, you need to tell him…”

I pause, trying to organize the words. “No. Don’t say sorry. He’s a…” What’s the word? “Fuckwit. Maybe tell him I’m sorry he’s a fuckwit.”

“You want me to tell your boyfriend you’re sorry he’s a fuckwit?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure if that’s going to go down as the most romantic last words ever said,” Jared replies.

“Sorry,” I mumble. The word comes out slurred. “You didn’t…sign up for this…”

He seems to get what I’m trying to say.

“It’s okay, lots of people treat paramedics as confessionals.”

“Same letter as…priest?” I’m proud I made a joke, even if half my face won’t cooperate with smiling.

He laughs, soft and close.

I could listen to his laugh all day. It’s got this rumbling quality, like distant thunder that promises rain but in a good way. Like a storm that’s going to water your garden, not flood your basement.

The sound makes me want to stay awake. Fight harder. But my eyelids are so heavy.

“Felix? No sleeping. Talk to me about something else. What do you do for a job?”

“Work in fashion. For a designer.”

“What’s your boss’s name?”

“Giselle.”

“Good. And your boyfriend?”