Jessa slouched. “I’m sorry, Preach. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
The sirens sounded closer.
Jessa tensed, then yelled, “Preach!”
His eyes slammed shut, and his tall body sagged toward the ground. Jessa shrieked, trying to catch him.
I leaped forward to help her, but the slick letterman’s jacket he wore slipped through my fingers. In a last-ditch effort, I palmed his head with my good hand just before it was about to smack the asphalt.
A jolt of agony raged through my injured wrist as I carefully laid his head down with my other hand, and I couldn’t hold back a yelp.
I rolled over and clutched my throbbing arm to my chest, fighting back the nausea stampeding through my stomach.
Do not throw up. Do not throw up.
I just needed to breathe.
Stay focused, Grace.
Breathe in. Five, four, three, two, one.
Breathe out. Five, four, three, two, one.
“Preach? Preach, wake up!” Jessa fell to her knees and cradled his head against her thighs.
I scooted closer to him. “Slap him or something.”
“What? I can’t—”
I patted his cheek with the back of my hand. “Wake up!”
After what felt like minutes, he finally blinked, and a weirdly blank expression settled across his face. His eyelids hung heavy over his deep brown eyes, almost like he was having trouble keeping them open.
“Hey, stay with me.” I poked at his shoulder. “Keep your eyes open.”
He had a pretty nasty bump on his left temple. That had to hurt something awful. Hopefully he didn’t have a concussion, but I wasn’t sure how he couldn’t, especially since he just hit the ground and lost consciousness for a few seconds.
“Preach, it’s okay. The ambulance is on its way,” Jessa spoke softly as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
Preach let out a groan and tried to sit up.
Jessa gently held him back. “Stay down. The EMTs are almost here, okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You just passed out. There’s no need to be a hero right now,” I said, reminding myself of the same thing as I leaned against his car. I’d been through some injuries with how active I was, but nothing like this. “Best to get checked before you wipe out and hit your head again.”
He cut his deep brown eyes at me. There was anger behind them, but there was something else, too—fear.
“You should have them look at your wrist, too, Grace,” Jessa said.
I nodded. The pain coursed from the base of my wrist, pulsing out through the fingertips of my pinky and ring fingers. I didn’t dare take it out of my jacket, though, because if it looked as bad as it felt…
I was in trouble.
Chapter Three
Preach