- Clay -
My window imploded, sending a spray of glass across the car. I instinctively threw up my arms to shield my face, shutting my eyes tight.
A car horn blared incessantly in the distance; it sounded so far away. My head swam as my heart tried to break free from my rib cage.
I blinked a few times, looking around with bleary eyes. The inside of my car seemed untouched, except for the glass. Through the front windshield, spider-webbed with cracks, I saw the front left side of the car was caved in. And we were facing a different direction. The impact had pushed us to face the direction the other car was traveling.
How fast did that person have to be going to cause that?
The other car sat idly in the middle of the intersection. The front of the black sedan was crumpled. The front passenger side tire tilted at an angle that rendered the car useless.
I didn't know why I was focusing on that. It just seemed odd.
A jolt of fear struck through my heart when I remembered Emmett beside me. I looked over to check on him. He was unconscious, his head drooping to the side. But his chest was still moving up and down. He was breathing.
"Emmett." I grabbed his shirtfront and shook him. "Emmett!"
He made a sound, but he didn't wake.
"Hey," a female voice said. "Are you okay in there?"
At my window, a middle-aged woman stared at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. For some reason, I couldn't get past the idea that she was proudly wearing a shirt featuring Gale from The Hunger Games. Who does that? He was the worst.
"I called 9-1-1. Just stay where you are. Don't try to move." She raised her hand, pushing at the air.
"I need to help my friend," I said. "He's not waking up."
"Is he breathing?"
"Yes."
"Well, an ambulance is on the way. They should be here any second."
"What happened?" I asked.
She glanced over at the other car. "That jackass was going too fast; he couldn't slow down in time to stop at the light. He plowed right into you. Had to be doing at least sixty-five."
"Is he okay?"
"He seems fine." The woman sounded frustrated. "He's over on the corner complaining about his car being totaled."
"Are you serious?" White-hot anger flared in my chest. Emmett could be seriously hurt, and that asshole was worried about his stupid car.
I reached for the door handle. The woman grabbed my hand. "I told you not to move. And attacking him won't make your friend any better."
"He's not my friend," I said. Then I shook my head, because that wasn't entirely true. "I mean, he is. But he's more than that. I just told him that I love him for the first time and he said it back." I didn't know why I'd just told her all that. I didn't know her, and she didn't need to know our relationship status. It just seemed important to note it. I'd hidden my feelings for so long; I didn't want to go back to that and diminish what Emmett meant to me. Even for a stranger.
Taking a deep breath sent a wave of pain through my side. I groaned.
The woman gripped my hand tight, though not so tight as to be uncomfortable. "I'm sure he'll be fine." She put on a smile, but it was sad and forced. Because the truth was that she didn't know that.
The glorious sound of a siren echoed in the distance. I never thought I'd be so grateful for that ear-splitting wail.