ChapterSeventeen
BRYCE
Hanging up flyers around town probably could have been a solo task. But apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, because instead of delegating the task to all the volunteer firefighters, I invited Krystal to come with me.
Armed with staple guns, tape, and wooden stakes, along with flyers and sturdier cardboard signs, we drove my truck through the streets of Minden. The event was three weeks away. Krystal had created a Facebook event for it weeks ago, and we’d purchased a full page ad in the once weekly Minden Flyer. But word of mouth and old-fashioned signs were still highly effective in Minden.
“What do you think? Definitely some signs at the entrance to the park, right?”
I nodded. “Sure. People come and go from here all the time. Especially with soccer games starting up soon.”
I parked the truck, and we both climbed out. Our operation had become a well-oiled machine. Krystal grabbed the signs while I grabbed a mallet, and we walked to the corner of the street and the park entrance.
She held one sign in place where she wanted it, and I replaced her hand with mine before hitting it with the mallet and driving the stake into the ground.
“Looks good. Next one over there, I think.” She pointed across the entrance drive as she spoke. Krystal was stepping off the curb. I heard the scrape of rocks on concrete and registered motion in my peripheral vision.
Time slowed to a crawl. My heart stopped, and I reached out to Krystal, already two steps into the street. It felt like my body was moving through quicksand as I held out my hand and lunged forward.
My hand found her bicep and I gripped her arm, yanking her toward me–out of the path of the speeding vehicle. Her body crashed into mine, and I tugged her safely over the curb and onto the grass.
The entire sequence of events lasted three, maybe four seconds. The car sped through the park, a honk registering a few seconds after I safely pulled Krystal out of the way.
I stepped back to look at her. “Are you okay?” My heart was racing and my breathing was heavy as the adrenaline began to recede.
She nodded as her eyes followed the path of the car as they zipped through the park and out the other exit.
“Look at me,” I requested. When she didn’t respond, I tucked my fingers under her chin and directed her. Her eyes locked on mine. There she was. I searched her eyes for signs of shock and her body for any injury. Had I hurt her?
“Oh my goodness, Bryce! What happened?”
I was confused by her dismayed tone, and I followed her gaze down to my arm. A streak of blood covered my forearm, and I frowned. What on earth?
Slowly, the pain registered. “Ow,” I said with a wince.
Krystal let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. I’d say so.” She looked around.
“My truck,” I supplied. “There’s a first responder bag in my truck.”
She nodded and left my side to go get it. Without her holding me, I carefully lowered to the ground. I held my arm, trying to ignore the growing throbbing there. The sign for the auction was lying on the edge of the street, haphazardly balanced on the curb. The pointed end of the stake was tinged with red where it had scraped my arm.
It must have gotten in the way as I pulled Krystal out of the way.
I jolted as my red duffel bag dropped to the ground next to me. “I can’t believe you got hit by a car,” Krystal muttered as she knelt next to it.
She unzipped the top and began rifling through the contents.
“First of all, better me than you,” I said. She scoffed at that comment, and I couldn’t help the smile, despite the pain. “And second of all, it wasn’t the car. It was the sign. Technically, I think you stabbed me.” I pointed with my elbow to the discarded sign.
Krystal paused her digging, and her eyes followed my direction. She gasped. “Oh my. I didn’t even realize.” She turned back to the bag. “I can’t believe you saved me. We could have both been run over.” She moved to another portion of the bag and tried to read a few things before throwing everything back. “What even is all this stuff? What am I doing? I don’t know how to use any of this.”
I heard her voice crack, and I ducked to look at her, surprised to see tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, Krys,” I exhaled.
She wiped her face. “You’re hurt and it’s my fault. And I just–”
“Shhh.” I let go of my injury, ignoring the strengthening of the pain with the release of pressure. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It was that reckless driver. We’re both okay.” I cradled her head against my shoulder with my good arm. “I’ll just get bandaged up, and it’s no big deal.”
She nodded, and I heard her sniffles. When she pulled away, I let her go and turned back to my arm.