2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
B eing stuck outside in bleachers with dozens of sweaty people on a blistering August evening was the last place Carson wanted to be, especially today.
The crowd cheered as the batter hit the ball into the outfield, then sprinted past first base and second before sliding into third. Carson choked down a grumble when the trio of young women beside her whooped and giggled at the City of Prescott’s firefighters and police officers on the field. Trying to dispel the ringing from their shrill laughs, Carson shoved her pinky finger in her ear and wiggled it around.
It didn’t matter, though, because Raegan was hollering just as loud as the badge chasers on her other side.
“That’s my man right there!” Raegan belted, cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. On the field, Hunter flashed a smile up at them while dusting the dirt off his black-and-red uniform. She blew him a kiss, then planted herself back in her seat, her wavy golden bob bouncing. “Damn, he looks so fine in that uniform. I’m going to make him keep it on later tonight.”
Carson rolled her eyes, then shifted in her seat trying to bring blood flow back into her legs. Her backside needed a break, and her skin needed . . . more pain. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. ”
Raegan peeled her eyes away from the tournament. “Do you need me to go with you?”
“No. I’ll be right back.”
Shuffling past a sea of legs and feet with apologies, even receiving a few irritated grunts in return, Carson managed to make her way down the stands and onto the concrete path toward the mediocre facilities. A roar erupted from the bleachers as the announcer called a home run for—as Hunter had proudly helped name his softball team—the Super Soakers. Carson could imagine the groans coming from their competitors, the Boys in Blue.
Rushing into the bathroom she shut the door behind her, muting the game. After checking that the stalls were empty, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The cacophony of the stands still echoed in her ears.
“One more hour and it’s over. You’re doing this for Raegan. Luke would want you to be out having fun today,” she whispered.
Wanting to inspect the bandages on her ribs, she lifted her shirt. Only a little blood had seeped through. There was a reason she always wore black.
Then her eyes darted around the bathroom, yearning for something sharp. Just to get her through the rest of the night—to get her through another year. Nothing behind stall door one. Two. Three. She let her fingers slide across the corner of the sink, the hand dryer, the trash can. Dull. Round. Useless.
Carson harrumphed. The pain would have to wait until she got home. After allowing herself another minute of silence, she stepped back outside, ready to brave the crowd again.
The setting sun waved its final goodbye as it disappeared below the Arizona horizon, leaving traces of cotton candy-colored clouds. The field lights flickered and buzzed, and a small breeze teased the promise of an evening thunderstorm. In anticipation, Carson pulled her sleeves over her hands and crossed her arms, holding them tight to her body.
As she walked along the building’s brick wall, one of the doors came flying open. The heavy metal smashed into her skull with a sickening thud. Her head snapped back, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground.
Black—
A buzzing reverberated in Carson’s ears, making the pain in her head intensify. She was twisting her neck to find the source when the vibration stopped, followed by another sound she couldn’t distinguish. Bending metal?
Then a blinding light hit her eyelids. Cringing, she blinked a few times. The light, she realized, was coming from the sun.
Squinting, Carson looked through a shattered windshield at a semi-truck stalled in the middle of the intersection, its front crumpled. Bystanders stood huddled on the side of the road. Lights—reds, yellows, blues—spun atop a fleet of emergency vehicles.
A blanket-covered mound lay in the rain-soaked road. She knew who was under that blanket.
Carson screamed—
She was back on the concrete, stars pulsating in her vision. Groaning, she reached up to touch her throbbing head and found a hot, sticky substance. A voice as deep as the sea cursed somewhere near her. Then a pair of ocean-blue eyes appeared just above her, inducing a fleeting moment of déjà vu. So familiar . . .
“Are you okay?” the voice asked.
“Ow,” she mumbled, trying to sit up, but large hands held her shoulders down.
“Don’t get up. You’re bleeding. ”
She rolled her head to look at the person talking to her. Like Hunter, he wore a black-and-red softball uniform. He knelt beside her body, one hand on her shoulder to pin her down while the other rifled through a duffle bag. While he was turned away, Carson noticed a silhouette of flying ducks displayed on his hat, turned backward on his head. Black hair stuck out from under it. His hand reappeared with a white rag and pressed it to her forehead, his dark eyebrows furrowed with concentration. Under thick stubble, a frown touched his lips. His eyes were serious. Too serious.
Damn. How much blood was there?
Those serious and still-familiar eyes glanced down, full of concern, and locked with hers.
“I am so sorry,” the man said.
“Don’t be,” Carson said, a little annoyed at herself. “I wasn’t paying attention.” It was she who shouldn’t have been walking so close to the door’s swinging radius.
Peeling back the cloth, he grimaced. “Yeah, I got you pretty good. You may need stitches.”
“Well, that sucks,” she muttered. “Can I sit up now?”
“Let me help you.” The man grabbed her hand and placed it on the towel, letting her take over. “Keep pressure on that,” he instructed before sliding his arm under her back and hoisting her to a sitting position.
Carson sat for only a second before getting to her feet.
“What are you doing?” he asked, seeming surprised.
“I need to go find my friend and let her know I’m going ho—” That was when the earth tilted to the side, causing Carson’s legs to buckle.
“Oh-kay.” The man caught her around her waist.
Confirming her legs were stable, Carson tried to push him away. It was like struggling against a brick wall .
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to go home and lay down.” She needed to get away from the noise and the crowd. Away from the smack of the leather ball against the aluminum softball bat. Away from those infuriating girls who swooned over the first responders on the field at every annual tournament. Away from her dead husband laying in the middle of the road—
“Um, no, you need to go to the hospital.” The stranger kept his hold on Carson’s half-limp body.
“I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped. After the accident, she had vowed never to step foot in a hospital again.
“If you say so,” he said, letting go of her waist. Carson didn’t realize how much weight he had been holding, because as soon as he released her she started to drop back to the ground. Before she could crumble, he was supporting her again.
“That’s what I thought,” the man said.
Carson shot him a glare from beneath the towel. Partly because of his smart-ass remark, partly because she realized she needed his assistance. She envisioned herself crawling up the bleachers, searching for Raegan. How insane she would look to everyone.
A chuckle rumbled in his chest at her expression. “Come on. I’ll take you.” Before she could protest, he bent down, scooped her up, and began walking with her cradled in his arms. The sharp movement pulled at her scabbed ribs, making her gasp.
“How’s the pain?”
“Bearable,” she said through gritted teeth. The rocking was making her regret the concession stand nachos she had earlier, now churning in her stomach. I swear if I throw up one more time today . . . “Just feel like I’m going to puke. ”
“Damn. I might have given you a concussion.”
“That would be my luck,” she grumbled. It didn’t help that the game continued to boom around her, making her brain pulse against her skull. Though she was surprised how the pain didn’t bring the attraction she was looking for earlier.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked.
“Huh?” She tilted her head back to look up at him.
“You said you needed to tell your friend you’re leaving. Who’s your friend?” he repeated while keeping pace, his voice never faltering from the exertion of carrying her and his duffle bag.
“Oh, uh, her name is Raegan. She’s in the bleachers.”
“Raegan Olson? Hunter’s wife?”
“Yeah . . . how did you—” Then it clicked. His uniform matched the Super Soakers, which could only make him one of the firefighters. He must work with Hunter.
The firefighter stopped walking, and to Carson’s surprise, they were in the parking lot standing next to a large, red truck. Keeping her eyes closed for most of the trip, she had figured he was taking her back to the stands. Without any effort, he opened the door, barely shifting her weight.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Like I said, taking you to urgent care,” he retorted, lifting her into the passenger seat with ease.
“ Like I said , I’m fine. I need to find Raegan. She’s probably wondering where the heck I am.” Carson grabbed the handle and tried to slide off the seat, but he blocked her.
“Relax. I’ll call Hunter, and he’ll let her know,” he said.
“Can’t you or one of your buddies just glue it here instead?”
“Maybe if we were in the middle of the jungle with no access to a medical facility.”
Carson bit the inside of her cheek, her tongue sliding over the years’ worth of bite marks. Urgent care technically wasn’t a hospital, so she didn’t have to worry about breaking her vow. Annoyingly, her head continued to throb like a heartbeat where the door had smashed into her forehead. She was officially over an already shitty day. And whether she liked it or not, if a firefighter thought she needed to see a doctor, there was a very good chance she needed to see a doctor.
The firefighter, who was still standing in her way, watched her carefully as she mulled over her situation. Concern was still evident in his face. Every few seconds his eyes flitted to the rag pressed to her forehead. First responder mode, she thought, itching to address her injury.
Her hesitation gave him enough assurance to push her legs back to face the dashboard. This time, she didn’t resist.
Letting her head rest against the seat, she closed her eyes. The seatbelt zipped as he pulled it from the slot and clicked it into the lock. The pressure of the strap against her lap and chest felt nice, but a frown pulled her lips down when the door slammed. Why did everything have to be so loud?
The truck’s cab smelled old and dusty, like driving down a dirt road toward a grandparent’s house. Or at least that’s how Carson imagined it, having never met hers. The saddle-blanket seats’ coarse fibers poked at her exposed thighs as she adjusted to get comfortable.
When the driver’s door opened, her eyelids lifted. The stranger was sliding into the truck, a phone with a STLHD Gear sticker on its case held to his ear.
“Hey, Hunter, it’s Jax. I know I was up next, but I left my duffle bag in the locker room and ran to grab it. Something happened, and now I’m taking your friend”—he leaned over to her—“what’s your name? ”
“Carson.”
“I’m taking Carson to urgent care.” Jax waited for Hunter’s response. “I slammed a door into her head. She’s got a nice laceration and may even have a concussion, but I haven’t checked.” Another pause. “She says she’s fine, but I’m still taking her. Anyway, let Raegan know that’s where she went. Text me if she wants to meet us at the urgent care.”