charge. “I’ve got it.”
“Honestly, how much does your head hurt?”
Without missing a tick, she replied, “Four out of ten.”
He’d guess from the size of the gash and speed she’d been going, she was more likely at a six. So she either had a high tolerance for pain or a low tolerance for letting people help her. Probably the latter. Doctors were notoriously bad patients.
“Do you have a flashlight?”
Rooting around in her center console, she finally pulled out a roadside-ready light and handed it to him.
“I was going to check your pupils—” he chuckled, pointing it at the ground and flicking it on “—but I think this thing would make you go blind.”
“I’m all right. Maybe a mild concussion, but I don’t have any nausea or ringing in my ears. And my head really only hurts right here.” She tapped the shirt still stemming the flow of blood on her forehead. “I didn’t lose consciousness, and I have no memory loss.”
“Clearly you remember all of your concussion training from school.”
She squinted sternly at him, but a tiny smile broke the facade. “Yes. I’m fine. How did you know to follow me? How did you even find me?”
“That puddle under your car wasn’t antifreeze. It was brake fluid. I had a hunch you’d skip the highway if your car was acting up, so I chased you down. Hope you don’t mind.”
Her grin managed to reach another level. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded and leaned back enough to get a better look at her car, the tires nearly submerged in the sand. “You’re still sinking. If you can move, we better get you out of here and call CHP.”
The California Highway Patrol wouldn’t be too happy that their truck ramp had been used by a smallish SUV, but Luke had never been so glad to see a ramp as he was that night.
Swinging her door open, he hopped on his good leg and offered her a hand to help her out of the car. When she landed on the shifting rocks, she stumbled against the car. Resting against its frame, she took several cleansing breaths.
“Dizzy now?”
“Just a little bit.” When she opened her eyes, she reached for his arm but stopped short. “How did you get over here? You can’t be walking on your own.” Her voice rose in volume and pitch with each word.
He nodded toward the crutches leaning against the bumper. “I just hopped the last eight feet.”
Her narrowed gaze homed in on his face. “Do you have any idea how badly you could have reinjured your knee? Sand, gravel, anything like this—” she stomped her foot on the yielding ground “—could mean the end of your full recovery. The end of your chances with the teams.”
Her words hit just where she’d aimed, like a punch to his gut and a left hook to his jaw, for good measure. But he didn’t look away, even as he tightened the muscles keeping his injured leg elevated. “I wasn’t thinking. I saw your car slam to a stop, and...” His voice trailed off as he waved a hand toward his car, its headlights illuminating them from the base of the ramp.
Mandy scrubbed her free hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for...” She finally looked away, long lashes shading the storm in her eyes. “Thank you for following me. For checking on me.”
The rush of fulfillment that always came in the middle of a mission surged through his veins, and he smiled at her. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Me, too. But promise me that you won’t be careless.”
He hopped several times and twisted to pick up his crutches—making sure his knee was completely out of danger—shooting her a wry grin in the process. “Why, Doc, you sound like you really want to see me pass my navy physical.”
“Of course, I do.” She began a slow, careful descent, passing him with ease. “I hate wasting my time.”
* * *
By the time they asked CHP to check for any evidence Mandy’s attacker had left behind on her car, said goodbye to the officers and arranged for the wrecker to pick up her vehicle, Mandy was ready for a hot bath and a full night of sleep. Neither seemed plausible, though. Even if she could get into a bath, she was pretty sure that she hurt too much to get out of it. And every time she closed her eyes, she felt that sickening lurch of her tire catching on the gravel, nearly flinging her off the road.
“Do you want me to take you to the ER to get that checked out?”
She jolted at the nearness of Luke’s voice, right next to her in the car, then groaned as she cradled her left arm across her chest.
Everything. Hurt.
And that ache was beginning to surpass the stinging on her head. Flipping down the visor of the passenger seat in his car, she opened the mirror and pulled the shirt back to reveal the wound. The hair right above her forehead was matted and brown, but the red stripe wasn’t oozing. She prodded it with a tentative touch. “I don’t think so. It’s not very deep. I just want to go home and get some rest.”
“Classic head wound.” Luke carefully positioned his injured leg below the steering wheel and closed the driver’s side door. “Those usually bleed like they’re going to kill you, even if they’re just a scratch.” He followed the motion of her hand with his eyes as she pulled her fingers away to confirm the bleeding had stopped.
The tips were clear, save for the dirt caked in every knuckle and embedded under every nail. She looked as if she’d been in war rather than simply doused in sand and grime. Maybe she could swap the bath in favor of a hot shower.
When she was clean and rested, then she could face whatever—whoever—was out there.
“Where am I going?”
She pointed him down the hill in the direction of her house, thankful for the telltale jerk as he tapped his brakes, pulling back onto the deserted highway. Still, her heart beat just a little harder with every swerve in the road and change in the slope.
They sat in silence for several minutes, her eyes glued to the edge of the reach of his headlights.
“You want to talk about it?”
“What, exactly?”
He lifted his right shoulder and dipped his head to the far side. “I don’t know. Anything. Like when you knew you were in trouble. How you’re feeling.” A hitch in his voice suggested that he wasn’t any more eager to talk about her feelings than he was to lose the brakes in his car.
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