Page 124 of Heart & Hope

Airbags.

I cover my face with my arms as the hiss of white power fills the space between Reed and me.

“RUBY!” Terror floods his voice.

The ringing in my ears drowns out the thunderous crash when the truck hits the ground and rolls. Glass shatters, raining inward through the gaps between the airbags like chaotic wind chimes. We jerk to a stop. Instantly, the steering wheel flies up and cracks into my head.

Hissing.

Then the nothingness of quiet.

Darkness creeps in from every angle.

Chapter Thirty-One

REED

Every inch of me is so heavy. My head pounds. The droning in my ears, so loud. I shake my head to dislodge it. It doesn’t budge. Glass falls. Warmth trickles down my forehead. Sharpness cuts into my hands. The inside of my truck is blurred and wrong. The roof lining of the truck is beneath me.

Upside down.

We’re upside down. The seatbelt bites into my hips and one shoulder.

Ruby . . .

God, no. Please no!

I push the airbags aside, reaching to find her.

Hanging from the driver’s seat, her hair is littered with glass. The side of her head by her ear is soaked with a streak of bright-red blood. She’s out cold.

“No, baby,” I rasp.

She’s still.

Her chest is barely moving. I tug at the belt, raging against its hold with a scream. The scaly fingers of heated anxiety claw through my center, stealing the last of my shaky breath. The seat belt tightens, and my lungs cave in.

I shake my head until stars burst into the sides of my vision.

Snap out of it, Rawlins! Ruby needs you.

I grind through a groan and push the button on the seat belt with one hand, bracing myself with the other on the roof. The second the belt releases, I crash into the roof lining and the truck sways. Ruby swings with the movement. Tiny pieces of glass dig into my neck and shoulders. The sting barely registers.

Pushing myself upright, I shuffle on my seat cautiously toward Ruby over the glass. “Rubes, baby, wake up.”

She doesn’t move. But the truck does. Fuck.

I can’t see well enough past the airbags to tell where we are. But by the way the truck rolls and shakes with my slightest movement, it’s not somewhere stable.

I wedge myself under her and support her shoulders. “Beautiful, you gotta wake up.” My voice cracks, my body screaming with the pain of impact and hundreds of tiny bits of glass weaving their way under my skin. “Ruby Jane Rawlins,wake up!”

I sob into her shoulder.

Sweet Jesus.

God, how could I let this happen to her? I should have insisted I drive. Made her pull over.

A sweet, coppery tang winds through my senses.

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