side is jammed into the cliff wall and I have to scramble over the seats to follow him out. I’m shaky, but I can move and nothing feels broken.
The world is very far away, though.
I feel as if I’m trapped inside a fishbowl, that everything around me is happening on the other side of thick, insulated glass.
Liam finds two orange triangles and places one behind the car, the other just around the bend. A white van approaches, pulls up. Two young guys working at the show grounds. I pick out the words, “bitchin’ wreck” and “way to go impressive, man”, but they’re decent enough to ensure we’re all okay and they offer us a ride back.
Liam’s arm goes around my shoulders and stays there. I cling to him, to the comfort he offers, but I don’t feel the warmth or security.
Everything is disconnected, distorted on the other side of my glass bowl.
Roman strides up to us as we stumble from the back of the van. His face turns the same stone-cold grey as his eyes when Liam starts to explain. He waves aside Liam’s rush of apologetic words, his gaze on me.
“Keegan, are you okay?” He reaches for me, then changes his mind when he sees how tightly I’m clinging to Liam. His arms fold. “Are you hurt?”
My mind seems to be operating on a different time scale. The conversation moves on while I’m still formulating my response to Roman.
“I think she’s in shock,” Liam says. “But not hurt.”
“There’s an ER unit in the town,” Roman says.
“We’re fine,” Liam protests.
Roman insists. He takes us in the Land Rover while Connor stays behind to sort out the Lamborghini.
The prognosis for Liam is mild concussion. The doctor instructs him return if he experiences any nausea. I’m prescribed sedatives and the suggestion to try and sleep the shock off.
Roman’s face remains ashen grey throughout, his jaw stone hard. He doesn’t try to touch me, comfort me, converse with me, but he watches me like a hawk. I can’t decide if he wants to claw my eyes out or scoop me up into his arms and fly away.
I think the shock is actually beginning to wear off by the time we arrive back at Kleighnorm. The layer of glass between me and the world seems thinner. The gap between my time zone and everyone else’s seems to be narrowing.
But Roman isn’t the least bit interested. He orders Liam to see me to my bedroom and a few minutes later he follows, bringing up a tray.
“We skipped lunch,” he says, placing the tray on the low table in the corner. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry.”
I prop myself a little higher on the bed, but don’t even glance at the plate. My stomach is too unsettled to eat. “Later, perhaps.”
Liam goes to investigate. “Lettuce. Ham.” He groans. “Freshly baked. The roll is still hot, Kee.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him with a small laugh.
He doesn’t hesitate. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Roman comes to sit on the bed beside me, holding out a glass of water and two sedatives in an open palm.
“Even if you’re feeling better, Keegan, just have the one dose, okay?” His expression has lost none of its ashen hardness, but his tone is gentle, caring.
Keegan. My name is a caress on his lips. I think maybe he’s been calling me by my name the whole day, since the accident, but I can’t be sure. I do know this is the first time I’ve noticed the way Keegan rumbles over his warm accent.
I scrape the pills from his palm and swallow them down with a sip of water.
“I’m tempted to take a couple myself,” he adds with a strained smile, “after the shock you gave me.”
He’s not talking about the car, but now that I’m finding my wits, I’m horrified. “I’m so sorry about your beautiful car.”
“A car’s easily replaced.” He takes the glass back, but doesn’t stand. His eyes sink into me. “I’m sorry you were put in danger, truly sorry. I haven’t had the Lam long and it’s been sitting at the show these last two weeks.
The world is very far away, though.
I feel as if I’m trapped inside a fishbowl, that everything around me is happening on the other side of thick, insulated glass.
Liam finds two orange triangles and places one behind the car, the other just around the bend. A white van approaches, pulls up. Two young guys working at the show grounds. I pick out the words, “bitchin’ wreck” and “way to go impressive, man”, but they’re decent enough to ensure we’re all okay and they offer us a ride back.
Liam’s arm goes around my shoulders and stays there. I cling to him, to the comfort he offers, but I don’t feel the warmth or security.
Everything is disconnected, distorted on the other side of my glass bowl.
Roman strides up to us as we stumble from the back of the van. His face turns the same stone-cold grey as his eyes when Liam starts to explain. He waves aside Liam’s rush of apologetic words, his gaze on me.
“Keegan, are you okay?” He reaches for me, then changes his mind when he sees how tightly I’m clinging to Liam. His arms fold. “Are you hurt?”
My mind seems to be operating on a different time scale. The conversation moves on while I’m still formulating my response to Roman.
“I think she’s in shock,” Liam says. “But not hurt.”
“There’s an ER unit in the town,” Roman says.
“We’re fine,” Liam protests.
Roman insists. He takes us in the Land Rover while Connor stays behind to sort out the Lamborghini.
The prognosis for Liam is mild concussion. The doctor instructs him return if he experiences any nausea. I’m prescribed sedatives and the suggestion to try and sleep the shock off.
Roman’s face remains ashen grey throughout, his jaw stone hard. He doesn’t try to touch me, comfort me, converse with me, but he watches me like a hawk. I can’t decide if he wants to claw my eyes out or scoop me up into his arms and fly away.
I think the shock is actually beginning to wear off by the time we arrive back at Kleighnorm. The layer of glass between me and the world seems thinner. The gap between my time zone and everyone else’s seems to be narrowing.
But Roman isn’t the least bit interested. He orders Liam to see me to my bedroom and a few minutes later he follows, bringing up a tray.
“We skipped lunch,” he says, placing the tray on the low table in the corner. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry.”
I prop myself a little higher on the bed, but don’t even glance at the plate. My stomach is too unsettled to eat. “Later, perhaps.”
Liam goes to investigate. “Lettuce. Ham.” He groans. “Freshly baked. The roll is still hot, Kee.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him with a small laugh.
He doesn’t hesitate. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Roman comes to sit on the bed beside me, holding out a glass of water and two sedatives in an open palm.
“Even if you’re feeling better, Keegan, just have the one dose, okay?” His expression has lost none of its ashen hardness, but his tone is gentle, caring.
Keegan. My name is a caress on his lips. I think maybe he’s been calling me by my name the whole day, since the accident, but I can’t be sure. I do know this is the first time I’ve noticed the way Keegan rumbles over his warm accent.
I scrape the pills from his palm and swallow them down with a sip of water.
“I’m tempted to take a couple myself,” he adds with a strained smile, “after the shock you gave me.”
He’s not talking about the car, but now that I’m finding my wits, I’m horrified. “I’m so sorry about your beautiful car.”
“A car’s easily replaced.” He takes the glass back, but doesn’t stand. His eyes sink into me. “I’m sorry you were put in danger, truly sorry. I haven’t had the Lam long and it’s been sitting at the show these last two weeks.
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