Chapter 6
six
Present Day
What the eff just happened?
Cold presses through my coat into my spine, the pavement unyielding beneath me. I try to shift and a sharp burst of pain cuts through my head. A literal vortex of pain. My breath is shallow and uneven. My body’s forgotten how to do anything right.
A sharp wail of a siren drills into my skull, swinging away and coming back louder.
Threading through voices, footsteps, and a car door slamming.
I force my eyes open. Light smears across my vision, settling long enough for me to realize a shape is moving toward me.
When he gets closer, I realize it’s the man from the market.
Quilted jacket. Dark hair. His face looks different now, tight with focus, eyes scanning past me before dropping back.
He calls out to someone, one arm raised, then drops beside me so quickly the movement jolts my vision again.
“Hope?” His voice is steady despite everything rushing around us. His hand finds mine without hesitation. “It’ll be okay.”
My name coming out of a stranger’s mouth throws me. “How do you know—”
“I’ve seen you play.” He shifts so I can see him. “Until the ambulance arrives, keep your eyes open if you can.”
Panic immediately pushes through the pain.
“No hospital.” My words come out slower than I intend. “I can’t pay for—” My thoughts slip. I try again. “I can’t afford a big medical bill.”
His grip tightens just enough to hold my attention. “Don’t worry about anything. You don’t have to deal with anything right now.”
I try to push myself up anyway. My arms don’t hold. The ground tilts and slams back into place as I fall against the pavement again. Air leaves my lungs in a rush I can’t control.
“Hope, please stay still.” One hand braces my shoulder to keep me down. “You took a hard hit.”
The siren cuts closer and fills the space around us before sputtering out. Within moments, people move at the edges of my vision. Boots. Hands. Bright strips of reflective fabric. Everything overlaps, too fast to follow. My thoughts don’t line up, I lose it before it forms.
The only clear thing to hold on to is his hand around mine. Warm. Steady. Real.
He stays by my side until the last second when the paramedics reach us, stepping out of their path. I lose sight of him and my fingers tighten around empty air. His absence hurts more than the pain.
Moments later, he drops into place beside me again. “Hope, my name’s Alek.”
Alek.
His eyes hold mine, sharp and certain. “I’m gonna stay with you.”
Hands move around me. A light shines directly in my face. Someone asks questions I can’t answer fast enough.
“Her name’s Hope Kristiansen.” I hear Alek’s voice cut through the noise. “She’s my wife.”
His words make me freeze.
Wife.
I turn my head toward him, ignoring the resulting pain to figure out what the hell’s going on. He doesn’t look away.
“She’s on my insurance,” he adds.
There’s no hesitation. No shift in his expression. He says it with utter and total confidence.
Except, I know it’s not true.
The correction sits on my tongue and goes nowhere.
The paramedics slide something rigid beneath and the movement sends a sharp wave through my head, strong enough to pull a sound out of me before I can stop it. Straps tighten across my chest, pinning me in place.
My hand moves again. He catches it without looking.
I hold on for dear life.
They lift me, the ground dropping away in a blur of motion. Light streaks overhead as they carry me toward the ambulance. Night air chills my face, cutting through the haze for a second. Enough to make me aware of how exposed I am. People stand back, watching. Faces I don’t recognize.
I’m so alone. I don’t have anyone in this world to comfort me.
Until Alek climbs in after me and the doors slam shut, sealing off the street, the Market, and the place where I was assaulted.
Inside, the space seems smaller. Brighter. Controlled.
The vehicle lurches forward, and the motion sends another spike through my head. I close my eyes for a second, then open them again when dark threatens to pull me under.
Someone asks my name. I answer, correctly I think. Then more questions follow. Date. Location. Pain level. I try to respond. Words come out wrong or not at all.
Alek stays where he is, his hand never leaving mine, even when the vehicle hits uneven pavement. Everything else shifts. Light. Sound. Movement. Throughout, his grip stays constant.
The city moves past in flashes through the rear window. Red lights blur. White lights streak. Buildings break apart and come back together between blinks. My thoughts come in pieces now, harder to catch.
Money. Hospital. What happens next.
I picture the stack of bills on my table. Rent due. Missing work tonight and all of my earnings from today gone. The idea of adding another expense tightens something deep in my chest.
I try to speak. “Cost—”
Alek leans closer. “Please don’t worry about it.”
Easy for him. I let it go anyway because I don’t have anything else to hold on to.
The noise presses in harder. Motion. Light. Questions I can’t quite follow. Everything pulls inward, narrowing down until there’s no room left for anything except the one thing that hasn’t shifted since he knelt beside me.
His hand.
So, I focus on the one thing giving me comfort. Skin against skin. Heat against the cold still clinging to me. I tighten my grip once, not sure if I mean to.
He doesn’t pull away.
The steadiness of it cuts through everything else.
Who is this Alek person? All I know is he was at the market and knows my name. A stranger said I was his wife and made it sound real enough for everyone else to believe it.
None of it lines up. None of it fits.
My eyes close.
This time I don’t fight it.
The last thing I register is his hand still wrapped around mine, holding steady while everything else slips out of reach.