She smiled. “Of course I do. I’m a nurse. But I’d never use them with my mother. If she were alive.”
Touché. “Sorry.”
“Listen, baby. Whatever you did, you can’t run forever. Just treat it like a Band-Aid and rip that thing off. If that doesn’t go well, focus on the fact that it’s the end of the school year. You’ll be off to San Diego in the fall, studying pre-law, and high school will be nothing but a distant memory.”
As usual, she was right; my dream of going away to college was just around the corner, and I couldn’t wait. It had been my mental sanctuary for years, the Promised Land where I could be geeky and academic and finally start living my life. This immature high school world of drama and popularity contests would evaporate the moment the principal slapped that diploma in my hand. Bottom line, none of this stuff really mattered, except for the grades. That didn’t mean, however, that these final weeks weren’t going to suck monkey balls.
“Bring me a few gallons of ice cream tonight?” I asked.
She hugged me. “Sure. Now get your ass to school.”
~ ~ ~
When I pulled into the entrance of the parking lot, it was drizzling and four minutes to the bell.
“What? Come. On!” It looked like two jocks were fighting over something—the size of their tiny straps?—and the cars had stopped to watch, creating a giant logjam. Oh well. Not like I was in a hurry to face Janice.
I glanced toward the school’s overhang, relieved to see Mandy in her usual spot. She made a sympathetic little wave as if trying to assure me all would be okay. Earlier, I’d shot her a text, letting her know I was returning to hell school, ready to face the fiery inferno of my sins. She’d replied with a simple happy face, and now it was her real happy face providing me the fortitude I needed.
My heart raced, knowing that today would be the most humiliating day of my life, and there was no getting around it. Served me right. I’d stooped to Janice’s level, and now I’d pay the price.
“Finally,” I hissed. The cars moved, and I slipped into the first available spot toward the back of the lot. I turned off the engine and grabbed my bag, not bothering to check my hair or makeup. What was the point?
I locked the car and started the death march through the lot toward my fate. With each step, that witness protection program sounded better and better. Couldn’t be that hard to get in on a federal crime and turn informant, could it? Perhaps I would Google “snitch” on my lunch break if I wasn’t too busy dodging apple cores from the masses.
“Dakota! Watch out!” I heard Mandy yell, but by the time my brain caught up with my eyes, it was too late.
I screamed, but it wasn’t because a large blue pickup barreled down on me; it was because of whom I saw standing next to my best friend.
Smack!
“Dakota? Dakota? Ohmygod. Are you okay?” Mandy’s face was a pale blur against the backdrop of the gray rain clouds overhead. I felt the wind dust my face, chilling the drizzle collecting on my cheeks. “Don’t move. Okay? The ambulance will be here in a minute.”
Luckily, the hospital was exactly one block from school; however, a paramedic wasn’t what I needed. A psychiatrist was more like it.
Although I couldn’t make out the face clearly, the image hovering directly to my right looked eerily familiar.
“Santiago?” I mumbled.
I will never, ever forget the sound of his voice. Deep, strong, one hundred percent male.
Mesmerizing.
Something embedded in its timbre called out to millions of years of female evolution. It penetrated so deeply that even in my state of utter delirium, I could’ve sworn he’d latched onto my soul and wrapped it around his pinky.
“Dakota,” he responded, with a thick Spanish accent, “don’t move. Everything will be all right.”
That was the last thing I remember before I blacked out.
CHAPTER SIX
“Honey, can you hear me? Dakota? Open your eyes, baby.” A warm hand ran down the length of my arm.
My vision focused slowly, but my mother’s calm face punched through the haze. Was this what people witnessed when they came into the ER, or even died? My mother’s loving expression, reassuring them that they would be all right?
“What happened?” I whispered.
“You were in an accident, but everything’s fine—just a concussion. How do you feel?”
I made a pathetic little nod and tried to focus my eyes on the objects around the room: a small television mounted to the wall behind my mother and a peach-colored table and chair in the corner next to the empty bed at my side. “My head hurts, but fine.”
“Good!” She pinched my arm so hard that I yelped. Bolts of fury exploded from her eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?” She pinched me again.