Sweet Nothing(2)

“It’s not a date,” I said, rubbing my palm against the back of my aching neck.

I struggled not to look like a desperate douchebag. I didn’t do dates, and she was way out of my league, but there was something about this girl I wanted to explore—and I didn’t mean just her panties. “I just thought … maybe you could use a drink.”

“I could, actually.”

My gaze dipped to her mouth, my foot accidentally pressing down on the gas pedal again. Jacobs was the f*cking unicorn—the one we all talked about but could never seem to capture. She was smart, knew her shit at work, and didn’t resort to dumbing herself down for guys who showed her attention. Instead, she walked with confidence, knowing she was the kind of woman who could hold out for the right guy. Unfortunately for her, the guy she thought was right for her was married to someone else, and she wasn’t a woman who would take what wasn’t hers.

Her giggle cut through the loud roar of the engine.

“Yeah? So, you wanna go grab a beer?” I asked.

She tucked the honey-colored wisps of hair behind her ear. Even disheveled and shiny from day-old makeup, she was beautiful. “Thank God I have a bottle of wine at home waiting for me.”

“Is that an invitation?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“At least give me your number,” I begged as a car behind me honked. The driver waited just seconds before swerving onto the shoulder, leaving as quickly as he had arrived.

I glanced up at the green light and cursed under my breath, hoping my time wasn’t up. Like my prayers had been answered, it switched to a dark yellow, and I returned my attention to her, instantly deflated. She couldn’t have been less impressed. I needed to try harder.

“Give you my number,” she repeated, amused. “So I can be added to your little black book of shame?” Her teeth dug into the plump flesh of her lower lip. “Do you really think the nurses don’t talk?”

I chuckled, feeling nervous, watching her smile fade into a scowl. She was getting more annoyed with me by the second, but I couldn’t stop myself. As long as she was talking to me, I was still in the game.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no, Jacobs. I’m laughing at myself. I should have known better.” I bent down, picked up a penny from the floorboard, and tossed it into the ashtray. Running my hand over my short, dark hair, I noticed the tension in her expression hadn’t eased. “You’re just too uptight.”

“I guess you’ll never know,” she said as her whisper-quiet car pulled out to cross the intersection.

I reached out, already seeing what she would see just a half-second later, but that would be too late. The light had already turned red. She stiffened her hands on the wheel, watching helplessly as the tractor-trailer approached her driver side at forty miles per hour. Her expression turned to horror as the sound of metal twisting and cracking under impact filled the air.

My fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my bones felt like they could snap under the pressure. I watched as glass exploded and the crumbled remains of her Prius launched toward me. The semi’s brakes whined in protest and Jacobs’ name ripped from my chest in a warning that had come too late. It was all too late.

I was used to saving people after tragedy struck, but it was easy to remove yourself from their pain when you didn’t have to witness the shock and horror of the event.

The last words Jacobs had spoken to me tumbled over and over in my subconscious as I scrambled to back my car away from the wreckage barreling toward me.

I resigned to my fate as my car propelled backward, my neck slamming against the headrest. When the semi finally came to a stop, the world stilled. The silence was more deafening than the horrific accident. It took me a few tries to open my door. Using my shoulder, I shoved my way out, rushing over to Jacobs’ mangled Prius. The sound of stones under my boots turned to broken glass. I was going to save her. I was going to save us both.





I sat in the waiting room down the hall from her room, biting at my thumbnail, my knee bobbing up and down. Nurses, doctors, and family members passed by without acknowledgment, oblivious that my entire world had shifted on its axis. Everything had changed.

“Josh,” Quinn said, appearing above me. He sat in the chair next to me and patted my shoulder. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer, staring at the floor.

“It’s going to be all right. Just hang in there, buddy.”

“She was there. She was right there, and then she wasn’t,” I said finally.

Quinn watched me, waiting for me to continue.

“I’ve been trying to get her attention since the first time I brought her a patient. She was finally talking to me, and … I can’t explain it.”

“That had to have been hard to see. It’s a miracle you’re okay.”

I cringed. “Even at the stoplight, when she was talking to me, I was thinking of ways to get her into bed.” I shook my head, disgusted. “Avery has been this un-gettable get, you know? She’s sitting there, smiling, finally acknowledging I exist, and my mind defaults back to the same douchebag shit.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Josh.” Quinn shrugged. “Avery’s a beautiful woman. All the guys at the station talk about her. She’s confident, feisty, and those eyes …”