Page 115 of Rider Daddies
Two firemen hop out of the truck in fluorescent gear carrying equipment big enough to kill a person.
They waste no time cutting through crushed metal. With paramedic help, they lower Tristan and Lucia’s bodies onto stretchers.
It’s one of those moments where you don’t want to look, but your eyes can’t help it. Everything unfolding is one incoherent, blurry episode. It’s like a nightmare. A fever dream. The only thing reminding me that all of this is real is the loud thumping of my heart.
I’ve seen enough corpses in my time to know that Tristan is dead. His body is eerily still. And if that’s not enough of a reason, his face is crushed. It looks like a ruined dessert topped with strawberry sauce, more than it does a face.
Lucia is still in one piece. I stare as the medics lift her onto the stretcher. They fit a mask over her airways and hurry her over to the ambulance.
And thankGodshe’s not being zipped up into a body bag like her ex.
Ryder, Ash and I all share a glance. It’s not a cause for celebration.
Not yet.
The party doesn’t start without Lucia.
The ambulance is back on the road, speeding away before I can even register that the doors have closed.
I watch the truck cruise down the road until it disappears.
“Sir.”
Lucia is unconscious and being rushed to the hospital. Can’t it wait?
“Sir!”
“What?!” My voice is snappy.
I work on calming it down for the police officer gawping at me.
I should be grateful that these cops aren’t the same ones who kindly paid us a visit the other night.
But what’s there to be grateful about when the past is happening all over again?
Tell me why this cuts a thousand times deeper.
Ryder and Ash catch up, dragging hopeless Willow over too.
Pen at the ready, one of the officers flips his pad and gets ready to write. “Did you witness the crash?”
“It was terrible.”
I’m glad Ryder has assigned himself as spokesperson.
Ash looks too tensed up to speak, and I’m afraid I’ll make a mess of everything if I do.
“She must’ve lost control of the vehicle for some reason.”
The officer scribbles everything down in shorthand, clicking the pen in between each question.
“When did it happen?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
The officer notes Ryder’s aggression and asks another question. “Do you know the two people involved?”
“No,” he spits back. “But I want to know that she…theyare okay. Who cares about the time? Two people’s lives are on the line.”
