33 - THE ACCIDENT

33 - THE ACCIDENT


Cheryl

I was already late.

Like, ridiculously, embarrassingly late. Damon who was both my boss and somehow a lover was going to have my head, but in my defense, it wasn’t entirely my fault. Okay, maybe it was. Just a little. But what was I supposed to do? The second I left that stupid insurance building, my brain had started spiraling.

Had Aiden gotten the message? Had he even seen it yet? Was he going to call me? Was he going to ask me to come with him?

Did I want him to?

Of course, I did.

And that was the problem.

The tension between us wasn’t something you could just wave off. It was heavy, electric, the kind that wrapped itself around your throat, making it impossible to breathe. The kind of thing neither of us ever acknowledged, even though it crackled in the air every time we were near each other.

So, instead of driving straight to work like a responsible adult, I stopped at a café to grab a sugary drink and tame the ridiculous rush in my head. Caffeine would’ve just made things worse, and I didn’t need my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with Aiden Scott.

The line was longer than I expected, and by the time I finally got my drink—a ridiculously sweet caramel frappe topped with whipped cream—I was definitely pushing my luck. Still, I lingered. Standing outside, taking slow sips, letting the cold drink calm my nerves even as my mind refused to.

The what-ifs were eating me alive.

What if he called? What if he didn’t? What if he thought I was overstepping? What if he wanted me there but was too proud to ask? What if—

My phone rang.

I jumped so hard that I almost spilled my drink, heart slamming into my ribs. Aiden.

It had to be.

With shaky fingers, I yanked the phone out of my pocket, but the second I saw the caller ID, my stomach dropped.

Damon.

Shit.

I let the phone ring, knowing exactly what he was calling for. A nice little reminder that I was very much supposed to be at work right now. But instead of answering, I shoved the phone back into my pocket, muttering a “Yeah, yeah, I know” under my breath.

I was about to climb into my car when I saw her.

At first, she was just another figure on the curb. Frail. Small. A little hunched. Her coat looked oversized, her hair a tangled mess, her movements hesitant, almost skittish. She had the usual homeless and lost look, and normally, I would’ve looked away. Not because I didn’t care, but because this city was full of stories, and I didn’t have time to listen to all of them.

But something about her snagged at me.

Something... familiar.

I frowned, gripping my drink a little tighter as I tilted my head. The way she held herself, the shape of her face. Something about her reminded me of—

And then she turned.

Our eyes met, and everything inside me went still.

Recognition slammed into me like a freight train.

My breath hitched, and my fingers tightened around the plastic cup. My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

No way.

No freaking way.

I knew those eyes. That face. That mouth. That everything. It was Aiden’s.

Aiden’s mother.

"Evelyn?" I blurted, barely recognizing my own voice.

The woman’s eyes widened—fear, shock, and something else flickering behind them like a wounded animal caught in a trap.

And then, she bolted.

I barely had a second to react. One moment she was standing there, frozen, and the next, she was running, her coat flapping behind her, her steps frantic and unsteady.

But she wasn’t looking.

I saw the car before she did.

It all happened so fast—too fast.

The blaring horn. The screech of tires. The sickening thud.

My drink slipped from my fingers, crashing onto the pavement, caramel and whipped cream splattering at my feet.

And as Evelyn Scott’s body hit the ground, my scream ripped through the air.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I was not built for this.

The moment Evelyn’s body hit the ground, everything inside me short-circuited. My pulse hammered, my hands trembled, and my brain? Completely useless. My first instinct was to run to her, to shake her, to do something—anything—but my body had forgotten how to move. All I could do was stand there, my breath stuck somewhere in my throat, while reality hit me over the head with a hammer.

She wasn’t moving.

Blood. Blood.

Pooling from the side of her head, trickling down her temple, staining the pavement like some kind of sick, spreading omen.

I yanked out my phone with shaking fingers and barely managed to press the right buttons.

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

“I—uh—she—she got hit,” I stammered, my voice a frantic mess. “A car. There was a car. She’s bleeding. Oh my God, she’s bleeding.”

The operator’s voice was calm. Mine? Absolutely not.

I followed their instructions, knelt beside her, tried not to stare too hard at the crimson soaking her hair. My hands hovered uselessly—was I supposed to touch her? Apply pressure? I didn’t know.

All I knew was that she was alive. Barely.

And she was Aiden’s mother.

By the time the ambulance arrived, I was this close to spiraling. My head was buzzing, my stomach was twisted in knots, and my mouth was dry. The paramedics asked me questions—What happened? Do you know her? Is she on any medication?—and I could barely string words together.

But one thing was clear.

I had to call Aiden. I had no choice at this point even though I had promised myself I was going to do everything to get him off my head but this was his mother we were talking about, the same woman he had been searching for.

That thought alone sent another rush of nerves straight to my gut.

Because what was I supposed to say? Hey, so, I found your long-lost mother loitering on the sidewalk, and then she got hit by a car. How’s your morning going?

Yeah, no.

But I had no choice.

So I pressed his number.

It rang.

And rang.

And then—

“Cheryl?”

I exhaled shakily, gripping the phone so hard my fingers hurt.

“Aiden,” I breathed. “I—I found her. Your mom. She—” My voice cracked, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing through it. “She got hit by a car. We’re—we’re on the way to the hospital.”

Silence.

A heavy, weighted silence that made my chest tighten.

And then, his voice. Sharp. Controlled. “Which hospital?”

I told him.

“I’m on my way.”

And then the line went dead.

I swallowed, throat dry. A little part of me thrummed with anxiety. Not just for Evelyn. But for him.

What was he feeling right now? Was he scared? Angry? Was he—

I shut my eyes, shaking the thought away. None of that mattered. I just needed to focus on getting there.

The drive was a blur. The stretcher, the bright hospital lights, the rush of doctors and nurses. I stayed close but not too close, hovering in the waiting area with my arms crossed, fingers digging into my skin.

Aiden was coming.

And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Because part of me—some ridiculous, selfish part—wanted to hug him the second he arrived. To tell him it was going to be okay, that Evelyn was going to be okay.

But that stupid, fragile hope inside me?

It shattered the moment he stormed into the hospital.

With Anika behind him.

The air left my lungs so fast I nearly choked on it.

He didn’t even see me at first. His eyes were all sharp edges and cold fury, locked on the nurse at the desk as he demanded to know where his mother was.

And behind him, Anika stood.

Poised. Beautiful. Effortless.

She placed a hand on his arm. Said something low in his ear.

He nodded.

He nodded.

And that—somehow—hurt more than it should have.

Because it meant something.

It meant that she was the person he wanted with him. The person he needed.

Not me.

I clenched my jaw, something hot and painful burning behind my ribs.

Today was turning out to be a bigger mess than I ever imagined.