Page 87 of Austin

Austin’s door looks bent in, so there’s probably no way I’ll get it open. I swing mine open, unhook his seat belt, and reach in to try to pull him toward me.

Austin’s eyes close again.

“Stay up. I need you to help me get you into the passenger seat.”

I yank on his torso, but he’s not budging; his weight is too heavy. I pull him again and pray to God that I’m not hurting his back, which I know is already damaged from the war.

“I need you to help me. Wake up for just one minute. I have to get you out of here.”

“Jalynn,” I hear someone yelling. “Jalynn!” Beckett pulls me out of the car.

“Help me get Austin!” I yell as I try to get to him again.

I hear Gregg as he runs up to Austin’s side of the car. “I can’t get the door open.” He grunts as he tries again.

Beckett quickly examines me, but I assure him I’m fine. “I was trying to get him in the passenger seat. It has to look like I was driving. He can’t get caught behind the wheel.” His attention rises from being fixed on a bruise on my arm to my face, which he’s now looking at, astonished. “You’re going to take the fall for him?”

I lean my head forward and open my arms. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

The disturbed look on his face morphs into something softer. It’s as if Beckett is finally seeing me for the first time in my life, like he can read every thought in my head and hear the exact syllable in every word. I’m the one person he’s probably spoken to every day of his life, yet tonight is the first time he’s actually listening to me.

“Is he okay?” I yell toward Gregg in desperation.

“He’s breathing, but he has a huge cut on his head,” Gregg says as he rounds to my side of the car. “Beckett, come help me pull him out.”

My brother runs to Gregg’s side and helps him pull Austin out.

The whirl of sirens grows closer. The crowd has dispersed, including Eva, and the only cars here are Beckett’s Mustang, Gregg’s truck, and Austin’s Camaro. The two men are dragging Austin out as I stand, frozen. I can’t believe this.

Austin wasn’t wearing a helmet. I was. How could we have been so stupid? Why would Austin have me wear the helmet and not himself? Why was I okay with it? Why was he okay with that?

Fear of throwing up has me doubled over.

Beckett grips my arms, making me stand straight to look at him. “You need to get out of here. He needs a hospital. You have to get yourself together and drive him.”

I don’t see the fear I feel reflecting back at me. No, I see Beckett being the strong one for both of us, and it’s the exact push I need to get my shit together.

“Take Gregg’s truck. He needs to get the Camaro out of here, and you need to get Austin to the hospital,” Beckett explains.

“I’ll call Bryce. He’ll know what to do,” Gregg yells to me as he climbs into the Camaro and closes the door.

“What about you?” I emphatically ask Beckett.

“Don’t worry about me. You need to get out of here. Now!” He pushes me into the driver’s side of Gregg’s truck and closes the door behind me.

Austin is lying in the backseat.

Tears start to roll down my face as I put the truck in drive and take off just as the sight of red and blue lights blink on the nearby trees, signaling they’re too close.

I pray for dear life that Austin will be okay. I pray Beckett won’t find himself in a world of trouble.

I pull up to the emergency room doors where doctors and nurses are waiting with a stretcher like Gregg said they would be when he called telling me to take him to UCSF instead of San Francisco General.

They open the back door and are quick to remove Austin. I hop out and run around the front of the truck just as they are wheeling Austin through the double doors. I rush to follow him in when someone holds me back.

“Miss, you can’t go in there. You need to move your truck,” a nurse says.

I slam my hand against my forehead and heave as Austin disappears from my sight. I’m forced backward toward the parking lot, only to start walking forward again toward the double doors.