25. Harper
25
HARPER
“Ouch!” I shouted. “Son of a bitch! I’d still like to use that arm!”
“Ma’am, calm down,” the paramedic said as he loaded me in the ambulance. I was jostled around way more than any human should be who had just been in a near-death accident. Staying calm was out of the question.
“You calm down. I’ll be realistic!”
Oliver sighed as he sat down beside me, taking my right hand in his. “Squirt, you’ve gotta let them do their jobs.”
I pulled on his hand, dragging him closer to me. “I’ve seen this episode.”
“What episode?”
“You know, the one where the girl dies.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Harper?—”
“No, I’m not going crazy. They’re going to inject me with some kind of poison and say I died of natural causes. Don’t let them inject me with anything,” I hissed.
The doors closed, locking me in the back. I knew I was losing it, but how could it be helped? All of these movies I’d seen and stories I’d read about were swirling through my mind at a hundred miles an hour. I was doing everything in my power to ignore the pain and concentrate on anything else. And that happened to be recounting all the details of any horrible thing I’d ever heard or read.
“Can you give her some morphine?” the traitor asked.
“Not yet. The doctors need to be able to evaluate her pain.”
“It hurts fucking everywhere,” I snapped, eyeing him as much as I could with a collar around my neck. I turned back to Oliver, tugging on his hand again. “I read this article about this awesome surgeon in Indiana. She was in an accident and had rebar go through her chest.”
“You didn’t have rebar go through your chest.”
“I know that, but it was just like that Final Fantasy movie.”
He pinched his brows in confusion. “What?”
“You know, the movie where Fate comes back to kill everyone.”
“Harper, that was Final Destination .”
“It’s coming for me,” I whispered. “I was supposed to die in that car and now Fate is coming to get me.”
“Seriously,” my brother muttered to the paramedic. “Anything. Just knock her the fuck out.”
“Are you listening to me?”
“Unfortunately,” he grumbled.
“If they take my arm, make sure they bury it with Goldie.”
“Who’s Goldie?” he asked in confusion.
“My goldfish!” I nearly screamed. Fuck, why wasn’t he listening to me? “Ouch!” I screamed as the paramedic stuck a needle in my arm. “That fucking hurt!” Then my eyes shifted back to Oliver. “Don’t let them take my arm.”
“I thought you wanted it buried next to Goldie?”
“Screw him! I’m keeping my arm.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of the surgeon sawing it off. “It’s my favorite hand.”
“You’re a righty.”
“I know, but it’s the one I use to put on mascara.”
“You don’t wear mascara, squirt.”
I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to stop the tears. “No, but I could. If they take my arm, I won’t be able to use it.”
My brother leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. “You’re going batshit crazy, and if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to take your arm.”
“You always were a bastard,” I grumbled. “You’re supposed to come to my rescue. Not belittle me for being scared.”
“Is that what I was doing?” he asked sarcastically.
“Nobody puts Harper in a corner,” a deep voice said.
My eyes shifted to the left and I stared in awe at the man who just came to my rescue. “Dwayne Johnson,” I murmured.
He looked down at me and winked. “You hang in there, Harper. I’ll take care of you.”
I smiled at him as the pain in my arm receded considerably. “I knew you would. You’re so amazing.”
“People tell me that all the time.”
“It’s because of those muscles,” I sighed. “You’re so handsome. And amazing. And your movies are the best.”
“Thank you. I do them myself.”
I giggled at the joke. “If my arm wasn’t holy right now, I’d feel your biceps. And then I’d run my tongue down them just to taste your skin. I bet you taste amazing.”
“That’s just the drugs talking.”
“No, seriously. I licked this other guy. He tasted amazing too.”
He leaned forward and stuck out his tongue, running it up my cheek. “When we get out of here, maybe there’s something else I’ll let you?—”
“Harper, Jesus Christ, not everyone needs to hear your fantasies,” Oliver grumbled.
I shifted my eyes to the left and sighed. “Nope, not Dwayne Johnson.”
The paramedic chuckled. “I didn’t even give you anything yet.”
“Nobody ever does. I just have a great imagination.”
“Well, hang in there. We’re almost to the hospital and we’ll get you some drugs.”
“I would love that.” Then eyed Oliver. “How’s that goldfish looking?”
He sighed and bent over, rubbing his hand over his face. “Fine, I’ll get you the goldfish. ”
“Maybe two?”
“Whatever.”
“And I’ll need a cat.”
“That’s taking it too far,” Oliver argued.
I let out a long-suffering sigh, then moved my eyes toward my arm. “It would make me feel better.”
He chuckled, shaking his head at me. “We’ll talk about it when you’re out of surgery.”
I let a huge smile take over my face as I settled in for the rest of the ride. I was getting a fucking goldfish.