“She’s okay,” I heard myself mumble, finally able to work my mouth. “She’s okay, but she lost her shoe.”
I don’t know how I ended up on the sidewalk, but I sat down hard on the cement. The cold, wet reality struck me and suddenly everything was loud and chaotic—the ambulance shot down the street, sirens wailing, flanked by police cars with bright lights that tore through the gray fog. People were talking; someone was crying; seabirds were squawking. Will was kneeling in front of me and I felt the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, his fingertips squeezing me gently.
“Sophie, Sophie,” he was saying.
I blinked, finally registering the concern in his wide hazel eyes.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Will nodded slowly, a wet, sandy-colored lock of hair flopping over his forehead. “She’ll survive, but she’s going to be pretty banged up.”
My heart started to thud again. The blood began to course through my veins again, and I felt a fist of anger burning low in my belly. I sprang up, fists clenched. “Who was it?”
“Who was what?” Will wanted to know.
“Who hit Kale? Did the police take him? Did they get his car?”
Will laid a tender hand on my shoulder and I winced when I saw his eyes cloud—a sure sign that something was coming that he didn’t want to say—and it was likely something I didn’t want to know.
“He took off, love.”
“Took off? He took off?”
“Bloke didn’t even stop.”
I felt the torrent of tears again, but this time they were bitter, angry. “He didn’t even stop?” It was a whisper and I felt my lower lip quiver pitifully. “How could someone do that?”
Will guided me back into the diner and into our booth. I slid in and stared down at my burger and fries, the grease from the patty congealing in a slick brown pool. I slid my plate aside and took a large gulp of ice water. “Who the hell would hit someone and just drive away? He had to know—he had to know that he hit”—I could barely form the word—“her.”
“Unfortunately, hit and runs are really common in this city. Pedestrians are walking into the street—”
“You’re blaming Kale?” I was incredulous.
“No!” Will held out his palm, stop sign style. “No. The only person I blame is the idiot who hit her.”
Will started pulling dollars bills from his billfold.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “God, I need to get out of here.”
“Do you want me to walk you back to work?”
I swung my head, trying my best to clear the hum of thoughts fogging my mind. “No. I want you to take me to the hospital. We have to make sure she’s going to be okay.”
Will sucked in a breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
My knee was bobbing uncontrollably as I sat in the waiting room and Will was talking to the emergency staff (a perk of being an EMT/fireman) to get information on Kale. By the time he came back, I was wringing my hands.
“Did you find out anything? Is she going to be okay? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” I felt like I needed to cry—wanted to cry—but every last bit of moisture had been used up.
Will sat next to me and put his hand on my knee. I stared at it, feeling my lip quiver.
“That’s not good,” I said, not taking my eyes off his hand.
Will’s gaze followed mine and he retracted his hand as though my knee had burned him. “No, love, it’s okay. Kale’s going to be fine. She’s got a few broken bones and she’s pretty bashed up, but she’s going to come through this okay.”
“Did the doctor say that?” I slid in my chair, turning to face Will. “Did they actually use the words she’s going to be okay?”
Will licked his lips, raking a hand through his hair. “Not those exact words. They’re still running some tests, but they’re pretty confident.”
I nodded, unable to form words. There was a nagging pain behind my eyes—something that told me I was missing something. When Will laid his arm across my shoulders, I slumped into him, half numb, half desperate, for some kind of comfort. A tremor started from the pit of my stomach and suddenly I was shivering, clenching my teeth to keep them from chattering. My fingers fumbled for my purse; I pawed around blindly.
“What do you need?”
“My phone. My phone, please.”
Will dug through my bag and handed me my phone; I mashed at the keypad.
“Nina?” he mouthed.
I shook my head, listening to the dial tone. “Alex.”
I watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob; he looked away, taking his arm from behind my shoulders and folding his hands in his lap. As I listened to the phone ring endlessly on Alex’s end, I blinked at Will, seemingly miles away now, and felt unbearably alone.