Page 19 of A Certain Appeal
“EMS should be here any minute,” hollers the guy in the suit. I nod in thanks and get back to Darcy.
“The gate thing came down, hit Jane,” I explain.
Darcy sits up, face tight in consideration as I meet his dark eyes. “Areyouokay?” He touches my elbow. The unexpected contact has me taking in a sharp breath that extends until I fill my lungs. My head swims, then clears.
“I was down the street when it happened. But if you could find something for the bleed—”
Darcy produces a white handkerchief from a pocket, or perhaps thin air, and offers it to me. “Will this do? It’s clean.”
“Um, thank you.” I take the hanky and press it to Jane’s wound, grateful I no longer have to look at the brutal tear.
“Anything else?” Darcy’s voice is brusque. He sounds... impatient? His eyes dart to his left wrist—
Did he just check hiswatch?
I scowl. “I’m sorry, is my friend’shead traumakeeping you from something?”
Darcy stares at me, brows low in familiar dour bafflement. “Well, actually—”
Just then a teenager walks through the group of people, head bobbing to whatever’s playing on his oversized headphones. He steps over Jane’s legs without even acknowledging the scene.
“How about crowd control?” I snap, pointing to the teen. “If it’s not too much to ask.”
Darcy watches me another beat, jaw tense, before he stands. “Allright!” His voice is commanding enough that I sit straighter. “Back it up!” He raises his hands, then takes two steps backward, gesturing for the others to follow. I wait for static from the bystanders, but the circle widens as everyone copies Darcy’s move. The handful of people who crossed in front of the metal frame retreat to the other side of it.
Darcy looks to me. “Good?” he asks, and gestures to Jane. “Or would you like me to have a go at sewing him up? I’d hate for you to question my commitment.”
I lift my chin, though I feel a little sheepish for having been short with him. “I think we’ll leave that to the professionals, but thank you.”
A siren wails in the distance and I sigh in relief.Thank God. My hand has started to cramp, and I switch my hold, applying pressure with my left hand instead. I roll out my right, then brush at an itch on my forehead.
“That’s blood,” Charles blurts. “On your hand.” He jumps to his feet. “I can’t—”
“Charles?” Darcy says his name like a question and a warning. When I look at Charles more closely, he’s gone paler than before. He takes a wobbly step back.
“Charles?” asks Jane, reaching for him.
“Are you...” Before I can finish my question, Charles’s eyes roll back and his body drops.
“Shit!” Darcy lurches forward. He’s too far away. Charles hits the ground, his fall broken by Jane, who grunts as his left thigh catches Charles’s head.
“Charles?” Jane asks. “Hello?” He strains to look down to the form across his lap. At least Charles landed with his face toward Jane’s toes and not his crotch.
“He’s out,” I say.
Jane stays rigid for another moment, then his body relaxes. “Okay.” He feels around to the back of Charles’s head and smooths over his fair hair, his movements as tender and relaxed as Charles was with him that first morning. It’s sweet, really, despite the circumstances.
A pair of EMTs carve their way through the thinning crowd. They stop short at the arrangement of bodies.
“He’s wounded,” Darcy says, pointing to Jane. He shakes his head at Charles. “The other one fainted at the blood.”
One of the EMTs squats beside me. “Can you keep him in this position while we put on a stabilizing collar?” At my nod, he aligns the low gurney beside Jane. His partner stands over Charles, brows low, as though he’s not sure how to go about removing the unconscious impediment.
“How’s the bleeding?” asks the EMT.
“It’s deep,” I warn him, and mouth, “Bone,” not wanting to alarm Jane.
The EMT nods, then holds out the neck brace. He gingerly slides it around Jane’s neck, the rubber of his gloves tugging against my skin as they pass over my thighs.
