Page 6 of Saving Emily
After gathering my heart from the floor, I peer out the window. A female police officer is holding her jacket in close to protect her body from the brutal morning winds.
Once I roll down my window, she nudges her head to the west. “This road will be closed for a while. You need to turn around and take exit I43 to get to the airport.”
Forever curious, I ask, "What happened?"
My heart squeezes when her worried eyes meet mine. “A traffic incident. Unfortunately, there's been a fatality, so the road will remain closed until the circumstances of the crash are investigated.”
Tears well in my eyes at the thought of a death so close to Christmas, but before I can work out why every fine hair on my body is prickling, a much more hazardous thought enters my mind.
Noah’s taxi would have taken this route. It’s the most direct route from my college to the airport. Did he make it through here before the accident or. . .?
As goosebumps skate across my skin, I throw off my seatbelt with force before swinging open my car door. When I dart down the stream of cars, the police officer shouts for me to stop, but I can't. I run past the lane of idling cars while praying on repeat that my body's awareness of Noah's closeness is askew today.
When I reach the end of a long line of cars, I scan the scene. I can barely breathe through the fear clutching my throat, but my eyes work perfectly fine. A taxi crushed beyond recognition sits on my left, and a B double truck is on my right, but there are no signs Noah's taxi was involved in the accident.
I wish my intuition would tell me the same thing.
"Noah!" I shout into the cool morning air.
It can’t be him.
He has to be safe.
Life couldn’t be so cruel, could it?
Tears roll down my cheeks as fear engulfs me. Although I can’t see Noah, I can sense him. That alone has me shouting his name another three times.
During my third call, a plain-clothed detective steps out from behind a first responder truck. As he heads my way, the distress on his face amplifies. I can only imagine that it’s mirroring mine to a T.
His brows stitch, confused as to how I’m here. “Emily?”
He’s not the only one baffled.How does he know my name?
Before I can work through my confusion, my eyes catch sight of an object that shreds my heart to pieces. Splintered remains of a guitar are splayed across the asphalt. It’s just left of the crumbled taxi.
When I adjust my vision, my tattered heart slithers into my gut.
I recognize that guitar.
I recognize it very well.
“No!”
When I dip under the police barrier, my knees almost buckle in despair. Jean-covered legs are peeking out from behind the EMT truck the detective moved away from. They're rising up from a familiar pair of black motorcycle boots.
“Noah…”
As I sprint for him, tears spill down my face as fast as my legs pump. It can’t be him—surely. He’s already endured more than his share of pain in his short life.
My worst fears come true when I clear the line of first responders. Noah is lying on the ground. His body is badly damaged.
I fall to my knees at his side before carefully grasping his bloodstained hand in mine. Paramedics are working hard to save him, but that knowledge does little to settle my panic.
His injuries are severe. A large gash runs down one side of his forehead, a bone is sticking out of his thigh, and the shallow breaths he’s taking are gargled through the blood spilling from his mouth.
“Em,” Noah mutters hoarsely as his beautiful eyes stray to mine.
Hot salty tears stream down my face when I move into his line of sight. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here—”
