Chapter 22
“Poppy! Poppy, can you hear me?!”
A voice, shrill and underwater, ricocheted through her skull.
Poppy couldn’t understand where it was coming from or where she was.
The world condensed into a pinpoint of a searing white circle, then spread out in blurred rings.
A heaviness pressed down on her, and her chest fluttered with panic as a voice repeated her name.
Each new shout clattered into the last, like an echo chamber lined with breakable glass.
She tried to say something, but her lips were stuck together, her tongue was too big to fit in her mouth. The name, her name, Poppy, was a thread she could follow, but nothing about the circumstances made sense.
Had she fallen asleep?
Was she meant to be somewhere?
A dim, mortifying certainty dawned, she was late.
She’d missed something important. A wedding. She was supposed to be at a wedding, that’s why she was getting yelled at.
With effort, she managed to pry her heavy lids apart. When she did, she recognized the face hovering above her. It was a nice face. A handsome face. It was an AJ face. He was staring at her. And he was mad.
Why was he staring down at her?
Why was he saying her name over and over?
Had she overslept?
Her thoughts were all jumbling together.
Panic rose inside of her.
“Can you hear me? Poppy, can you hear me?”
She managed to croak, “You’re yelling, of course I can hear you.” It sounded more like a frog than a human, but at least it shut him up for a millisecond.
AJ breathed out a sigh of relief, and the scope of her vision expanded. Instead of a coned tunnel with his face in the center, she saw the dark inky sky dotted with bright shining stars behind one side of his head and the copper patina of her porch’s overhang on the other.
It was then she realized she was splayed on the ground outside her ADU, cold seeping into her back, the night air sharp with pine and the faint musk of woodfire smoke.
Memories returned all at once, the ride home, the splitting headache, the dizziness, and then…
nothing except this, AJ calling her name.
She tried to sit up, almost made it, but a wave of nausea swelled and slammed her back down.
“No, don’t move,” AJ commanded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.
Who carries handkerchiefs?
He pressed it to her forehead as delicately as if she were made of spun glass. “Can you hold it there?”
She knew he was asking if she felt well enough to hold it, but for some reason she wanted to snap back at him, “I’m not three.” Instead, she placed her hand over the cloth and applied pressure. As she did, she noticed his hands moving. He was holding his phone.
“What are you doing?!”
“Calling an ambulance. Your head is bleeding.”
“Do not call an ambulance. I’m fine.”
She sat up despite his warning to prove her point.
When she did, she felt the side of her face get wet.
She lifted her hand and pressed it to her forehead.
When she pulled it back, her fingers were covered in blood.
She looked down and saw that she must have hit her head on the corner of the cement planter box.
She shifted the handkerchief and applied more pressure.
“I’m calling,” he stated defiantly.
“No.” She swatted the phone out of his hand, and it landed on the grass.
His eyes met hers, and he looked at her as if to say, Are you three? AJ reached over and picked up his phone.
“I’m so sorry,” she immediately apologized. “Just help me up.” Using his arm as leverage, she pushed herself to a standing position. As soon as she was on her feet, she saw the blood pooled on the ground. It was a significant amount.
“If you won’t let me call an ambulance, I’m taking you to urgent care.”
“Hope Falls doesn’t have urgent care,” she explained. “Well, it does, but it’s my brother, and since it’s his wedding night, I’m not going to bother him.”
“Where’s the nearest emergency room?”
She tried to remember. The answer was somewhere in the back of her brain, but her thoughts kept getting stuck on the sensation of blood pooling at her temple. “It’s Pine Ridge ER, but I’m fine.”
AJ’s lips flattened into a thin, uncompromising line. “Either I drive you or I call an ambulance.”
Poppy could see that he wasn’t going to let this go.
“Fine, you can drive, but I have to change out of this dress.”
She watched as his jaw tensed, and she could see he wanted to say, “No, we have to go now,” but instead, he took her keys, opened her door, and assisted her into the house.
When they got to the bedroom door, he stopped just outside. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She entered and flipped on the light. It was so bright, causing her to wince.
In doing so, she lowered her hand from her head, and blood immediately began to flow again, so she quickly replaced it.
Maybe it was a good idea she was getting it checked out.
As she reapplied the pressure to the wound, she began counting the beats of her own heart, then reached for her phone to check the time.
Just past midnight. She tried to tally the minutes since her last clear memory, but they slid around like spilled water.
She took a breath, then another. The pain in her head was dull but insistent, like a neighbor pounding on the wall.
She stood staring at the mirror, and two words sprang to mind.
Hot. Mess. Her dress was stained red. Her hair was piled on top of her head like a bird’s nest. There were dark circles beneath her eyes from mascara and eyeliner that had run.
Her lipstick had worn off hours ago. She looked like a zombie.
Keeping one hand pressed firmly to her head, she twisted her other arm behind her back.
Her fingertips grazed the tip of the zipper.
She contorted her body, desperately attempting to grab onto the silver tab so that she could tug it down, but after ten to fifteen futile seconds, she knew it was impossible.
“AJ ca—”
She hadn’t even gotten the second word out before the door flung open and he was inside the room. His eyes scanned her up and down, his ocular assessment was filled with genuine worry. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just…” She turned around, her hand still trying to grasp at the zipper. “…I can’t reach it.”
Her back was to him, but she could see his reflection in the mirror, and what she saw was visible relief when he exhaled. His obvious concern made her feel all sorts of emotions she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.
Poppy was so used to being alone and figuring things out on her own.
As an only child of a single mom who worked several jobs, she’d mastered the art of self-reliance early.
Forgotten lunch? She’d improvise by eating scraps kids didn’t finish.
Missed the bus? She’d walk five miles in hand-me-down sneakers.
Any time she got sick or scraped up at school, she’d had to tough it out in the nurse’s office, waiting for the day to end so she could drag herself home.
There was no cavalry, never had been. Even the idea of being rescued was faintly embarrassing.
Having someone rush in, clearly wanting, and needing to help her, was disconcerting but also…nice.
Without speaking, AJ closed the gap between them and reached for the zipper.
His hands were calm and steady, and the heat of his palm as it settled between her shoulder blades made her shiver.
He slid the zipper down with one slow, measured pull, careful not to jostle her too much.
The gesture was so simple and so kind that for a second, she wanted to cry.
The dress slid down her legs, and he steadied her as she stepped out of the puddle of fabric at her feet.
“Which drawer are your sweats—”
“Middle right,” she instructed.
He opened it, one hand still on her arm supporting her. “Grey, blue, or black?”
“Black.”
After pulling them out, he turned back to her, and she rested her free hand on his shoulder as she stepped into them.
He then asked what shirt she’d like. They managed to get that on with a game of pass-the-baton hold-the-handkerchief-to-the-head-wound.
He kept pressure on it while she slid her arm through the sleeve.
He grabbed the matching zip-up hoodie for her, then told her to sit on the bed while he put on her socks and tennis shoes.
On the way out he also grabbed some snacks from her cupboards and two waters for her without her needing to ask.
Within five minutes, they were back in his SUV.
The drive to Pine Ridge ER happened in a bubble, with cold mountain air outside the SUV, the heater chugging at Poppy’s feet, and AJ’s silent focus on the winding, midnight-black roadway between towns.
A mild headache throbbed at her temples, she could already feel the blood drying sticky in her hair.
She was acutely aware of her own body, the warmth of AJ’s handkerchief cinched to her scalp, the band of her zippered hoodie pressing tight to her neck, and the clammy aftertaste of adrenaline and embarrassment.
She was equally aware of AJ checking the rearview, stealing side glances at her, and keeping one hand always near her in the center console, as if she might topple over at any moment.
At the halfway point, she got a text. She pulled out her phone and saw it was from her mom.
Mom: Just got home safe and sound.
Poppy liked the text and responded with, “Me too.”
“Everything okay?” AJ inquired.
“Just my mom letting me know she’s home.”
“Is she going to meet us there?”
“No,” she snapped. The single syllable cracked the air, and she winced, both at the headache and at herself, she wasn’t sure which throbbed more.