Page 28 of Speeding Hearts

“It wasn’t here. It was… earlier. I’ll explain later if you’ll come with me to the hospital? They were going to take me…”

She glanced over at a pair of paramedics treating an older looking man on a gurney.

“I’ll take you,” I said.

Stella’s eyes on mine ripped a gash right through me. But she didn’t protest. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said instead. “All my stuff—”

I pulled her against me again. “Don’t worry about that,” I whispered in her hair. “I’m here.”

* * *

After the paramedicsinspected Stella’s wound and deemed her okay enough to go with me, I took her to the clinic in Cass Harbor, the closest one open at this time of day on a Sunday.

On the way, through more tears, Stella told me everything. How she’d gone back to the Back Track today without me. How she’d hit the pothole and slashed her arm open. How the kid from the Speedway had been there—I’d have to buy him his first beer.

“Are you pissed at me?” she asked. “I’mpissed at me.”

I shot my eyes toward her as I pulled off the highway.

I was upset she’d gone back to the Back Track on her own, sure. But I wasn’t upset with her. I was mad at myself for not offering to go with her more often, so she wouldn’t have been tempted to go on her own.

“No,” I said. I meant it, too. “But you should have told me you wanted to go back for more. I would have gone with you.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go with me. I’m perfectly capable now.” Her chin went up when she said that last part. “Despite this.” She held up her arm.

“Of course you are. You’re handling those corners like a pro. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a helluva mechanic, and you’re going to be a helluva driver, too.”

She looked like she was trying to smile, but it was laced with worry. Fear. It made sense, after everything that happened.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I said, softly.

Stella tipped her head against the window of my truck. “Thanks, Dean,” she said.

She looked so small and alone. I wanted to reach over and cup her face, or—as I was still driving—pull her against me and never let her go.

* * *

While Stella was getting stitchedup by the doctor, I considered where she could stay. My first thought was for her to come back to my place, but my apartment wasn’t exactly a welcoming place to stay. I still hadn’t unpacked the handful of boxes, opting instead to keep them open and dig around for things I needed.

Mom had tsked when she’d come over to see it the other night. “It has so much potential!” she’d said, eyeing the pretty view to the street and town square a few blocks down. “What a waste, Deanie!”

Then it came to me. Mom’s place. Mom still had her damn scrapbooking stuff overflowing in the downstairs bedrooms of her house and various other projects upstairs. But she’d spent all weekend fixing up another place to stay—the trailer.

I’d just gotten the shower done there too.

It was perfect. A little isolated, but private and safe, and I’d hang out with Stella as long as she needed.

I checked in on Stella, but they told me she was still in the room with the doctor, so I went ahead and called my mom. She was so surprised by my call and so excited to help someone affected by the fire—and to host her first guest in the bullet trailer—she didn’t even remember to properly grill me about Stella.

“I’ll get all the bedding down there now,” Mom said, her voice lit up with excitement.

“Stella’s pretty exhausted, Mom. If you don’t mind, maybe we could do the meet and greet tomorrow morning?”

“Oh,” she said, clearly disappointed.

I reminded her about Stella’s injuries and what had happened at the motel, and she clucked again. “Poor girl. Of course, I’ll bring down breakfast tomorrow morning.”

I wanted to tell her not to worry about that either, but I knew keeping Mom at bay that long was a coup in itself. “Mom?” I asked. “There’s one more thing.”

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