Brakes squealed growing louder and louder. A high-pitched scraping noise tore through the night. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.
I managed to lift my head just in time to see a speeding truck become airborne and flip over onto the driver’s side with a loud crunch. Metal scraped against the pavement. Orange sparks popped from underneath the truck as it skidded and scraped its way across the pavement.
Directly toward me.
My eyes shot open. I was disoriented when I found myself in the same room where I’d discovered Preppy was alive. Same pink walls. Same Barbie clock on the wall. Of course, I knew now it was Max’s room.
I pulled back the covers, noticing that I was only wearing an oversized button-down shirt and panties.
Why am I here?
I searched my brain for the reason why I was in King and Ray’s daughter's room but kept coming up blank. I attempted to stretch my arms over my head with no such luck. Soreness and aches stopped me before I was even able to lift them past my chest.
The fabric of my shirt brushed up against my thigh, and I hissed in pain. I lifted the hem to see a big bandage covering most of my upper thigh all the way to my butt cheek.
Suddenly, my newfound consciousness was flooded with memories from the night before. The room began to spin. A sour taste in the back of my mouth I couldn’t seem to swallow down.
There was a reason my dream seemed so real.
It wasn’t a dream.
With realization came recognition. The truck. The driver. A weight formed on my chest, crushing me under the possibility that I might have lost him.
Again.
“Nooooooo! Preppy! Noooooooo!” I screamed, feeling my heart breaking bit by bit at just the thought of what could have happened. I jumped to my feet and darted to the door. It opened before I could turn the knob. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen appeared. The man I thought I’d never see again.
Relief was slow to register. I was still in a state of total panic when I looked Preppy up and down. He was shirtless, cuts and scrapes over his shoulder and left side of his chest. His suspenders were off his shoulders, hanging from his pants on both sides of his thighs. I looked him over from his disheveled hair to his bare feet. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles sat underneath.
I reached out my hand, half expecting it to go right through him as if he were an apparition. When the warmth of his hand enveloped mine, I closed my eyes tightly and sighed.
“Looking for me, Doc?” Preppy asked. And although his words were said with a small trace of humor, his eyes showed only concern as he looked me over for the third time since he’d opened the door. Preppy wagged his eyebrows then winced. He smoothed a finger over the white butterfly stitch covering a three-inch cut above his right eye.
Relief flooded through me. My knees buckled. Preppy caught me by the shoulders before I could fall, holding me close to his chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, and although I tried, I couldn’t find the right words to express to him what I was feeling. I didn’t know what I was feeling. All I knew was that I never wanted to let go. “Are you okay?” I asked frantically. “Is Bo okay? Where’s Bo?”
Preppy pulled away slightly and tilted my chin up so that my gaze met his amber eyes. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. I’m fine. Bo’s fine. Ray and Thia took all the kids to the beach for the day. Bear’s got a couple of his guys looking out for them just to be safe.” He placed my hand on his bare chest almost as if he was confirming to me that he really was there. Then he mirrored me, placing his own hand on my chest over my shirt. That’s when I realized why Preppy was bare chested. I was wearing his shirt.
Preppy took a step toward me without releasing me so he could push us into the room. He shut the door behind us.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the words because we stood there silently for several minutes just feeling each other's hearts beating. “How are you feeling?” Preppy finally asked, guiding me back to the bed. I sat down when I felt the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Preppy towered over me, looking me up and down for injuries. “Did...were you hurt? Did anyone hurt you?” he ground out.
“No. Nothing permanent anyway. Nothing is broken that I know of. I’m fine, just a little sore,” I said. “Although this doesn’t feel all that pleasant.” I lifted Preppy’s shirt and peeled the corner off of the bandage on my upper thigh, revealing the gnarly road rash beneath.
“Keep it covered. It’ll heal,” Preppy said, kneeling in front of me. He set his hands on my knees.
“You made it out of the truck,” I said. “You’re alive.”
“You should know by now, Doc, that even death can’t keep a motherfucker down,” Preppy said with a devilish smile. He shrugged. “Besides, King’s monster body just about crushed me, but then we got all flipped around, and I wound up landing on him. I told that fucker to lay off the protein shakes before his size winds up killing someone. It’s a public service, really.”
I smiled, still not able to believe that we’d both came out slightly worse for the wear but alive after a night that could have ended so differently and so much more deadly.
Preppy sighed and played with the hem of the shirt on my knees. “I don’t really want to talk about this shit right now. I want you to rest, but I gotta ask you, Doc. Did you see who it was?”
I shook my head and looked over at the wall, focusing my attentions on the Cinderella clock over the bathroom door, hoping something would come to me that could help.
“How about a car?” he prompted. “A make or a model?”
I shook my head.
“Color?”
I closed my eyes and searched for the answers to his questions, but I came up blank. “I...I was in the trunk. I popped the emergency latch.”
Preppy grimaced but quickly covered it up with a soft smile. “That’s...that’s good, Doc. Quick thinking. Plus, emergency latches were only put in cars starting in the early 2000’s, so that’s something to start with. Anything else?”
I thought some more. “The car stopped when the person driving realized the trunk was open. They started to come for me. I heard them, but your lights must have scared them off. Next thing I know your truck is skidding to a halt a few inches from me and I don’t remember much after that. I don’t even know how I got back here.”
“You passed out. Shock,” Preppy said. “I carried you back.”
“You’re not hurt?” I said, pointing to a cut on his chest that was still seeping blood.
Preppy shook his head. “The only thing that would have hurt me is losing you.”