Page 12 of Someone Like You
And without giving it another thought, without checking for traffic or making sure she could even exit the car safely, she opened the door and jumped out. She was still laughing, hair flying behind her when it happened.
A pickup truck hit her square on and sent her flying down the street.
Nothing about the moment felt real. They were just on the mountain hiking to the summit and looking at the eagle. Just listening to Jeremy Camp sing about Jesus, and Dawson was just talking to her, just holding her hand.
Only now he was out of the car and running … running as fast as he could. And cars were screeching to a halt in all directions and people were staring and screaming and rushing toward her. Wherever she was.
“London!” He shouted her name, because she couldn’t have been hit. They were going inside for ice cream, about to have the talk he’d always wanted to have with her, the one about Jesus and her questions.
The man in the pickup jumped out. “No! Dear God, no!” He put his hands to his face and fell to the ground.
Dawson kept running. This wasn’t happening. They were going in for ice cream and he was going to hear her questions.
He hadn’t heard her questions.
“Nobody touch her!” His words bellowed from his chest, as if that could rewind the moment, stop this scene from playing out.Where is she, Lord? Let her be okay. Please.His feet wouldn’t move fast enough. Like he was running through glue or stuck in cement. “London, it’s okay!”
Because that’s what he had to say. Nothing could be wrong with her. She couldn’t have flown down the road and she wouldn’t be injured. Absolutely not. She was his best friend, the only girl he’d ever loved.
“London!” He yelled her name with everything in him, shouted it so that people stopped moving and stared at him. And everything was happening in slow motion. The panicked voices of strangers filled the air.
“Call 9-1-1,” someone said.
“We did. We already called.”
Dawson had to reach her.Run, Dawson, you have to get to her.Twenty feet, thirty … forty, fifty. Where was she? How could she have flown this far? But finally he saw her.
Lying in a heap on the sidewalk, her legs spread at a sickening angle. “No, God … please.” This time his words were a whisper. Terror shot through him. This couldn’t behis London. The girl on the ground didn’t even look like her except …
Except her hair and her eyes.
“London, I’m here.” He dropped to the ground near her head. Blood gushed from her scalp and a gurgling sound came from her throat. “London, can you hear me?”
People crowded around, staring, stunned. “Get a doctor!” Dawson shouted at them. “She needs help.”
“London.” His voice was soft again. He lowered himself even more so his words were next to her ear. “Can you hear me?”
Her chest wasn’t moving, but she was getting air. That was the gurgling sound, so she was breathing. Everything was going to be okay because she was breathing. “London!”
With the slightest movement, she turned her head toward him and the shock of the accident seemed to lift. Her eyes found his. “I … didn’t look.”
“It’s okay. We’re getting you help, London. Everything’s going to be okay.”Please, God … please.He couldn’t look at her body, couldn’t bear to see how bad she really was. The damage the truck had done to her. How fast had the guy been going? Thirty … forty miles an hour? Maybe more? “London, I’m here. It’s okay.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. A reminder that this was really happening. They were supposed to be ordering ice cream, sitting at a reclaimed wood table and getting to her questions. She never got to ask her questions.
Dawson soothed his hand over the side of her head that wasn’t bleeding. “Hold on, London. Please. Hold on.”
More gurgling. Her eyes glazed over and her body twitched. Slightly at first and then worse and then it stopped and she was still again. She blinked and staredstraight at him. “It was … always …” Every word seemed to take all her strength. No one standing around could’ve heard her. Just him. She uttered a weak cough. The gurgling was worse now. “It was … always you, Dawson.”
Tears blurred his eyes. How could she be telling him this now? The sirens were getting louder.
His heart melted. “I know, London.” He whispered near her face, and held her head in his hands.Don’t let her die, God, please. Don’t let her die.He ran his fingers over her hair. Hadn’t he always known that was how she felt? All the Sunday hikes and jet-skiing and late-night talks? The way they held hands.
The way the air turned electric whenever they were together.
Dawson blinked and two teardrops fell from his eyes to her cheeks. “You’re going to be okay, London. You have to ask me your questions.”
Fear flashed in her beautiful eyes, but only for an instant. Then, as if they were surrounded by unseen angels, peace filled her face. She managed the slightest smile. “No … questions.”
