CAMERON

On impulse, I leap out of the car, dashing toward the truck, and pull the passenger door open.
Amy isn't moving; my heart races in my chest. Shaking, I carefully check her for injuries. None. She's knocked out. A wave of relief washes over me when I feel the soft warmth of her breathing and confirm her pulse.

Gary starts sputtering coughs at that moment. I look over at him. He's awake, struggling with the puffed airbag.
"Are you okay?" I ask when his head falls back against the headrest.

"Yes. Yes. Just leave; my father's a cop," he says, pushing the door open and crawling out.

I swiftly unbuckle Amy's seatbelt, cradle her out of the car, sprint back to mine, lay her in the rear, and get back into the driver's side, all while my heart felt like it was being clenched in a grip. I can hear the sound of sirens as I take off, so I speed away to a distance from the scene.

My heart is still beating fast. I'm worried about her well-being, grasping the wheel with all my life. My heart hurts from considering the best alternative for her. If I take her to the hospital, there would be reports and statements, and she might end up getting in trouble for intentionally being a passenger of a drunk while sober, along with the damages that were made. But seeing her lying there, I'm sure she needs medical attention.

Myles. Of course, Myles.
It dawns on me that his wife is a doctor. The joy of recalling was worth patting myself on the shoulder.

I promptly make a turn toward his house. He lives like ten minutes from here. The drive feels like the longest; I keep peeking in the mirror to check if she's not convulsing or anything, but she isn't literally moving.

What if she was hit so badly? What if she has an injury, but I can't see it because it's internal?

No, do not think that.

She will be fine.

There were no wanderers in the neighborhood when I pulled by the side of the street and anxiously carried Amy out to his door, elbowing the bell repeatedly until some kid, about ten years old, opened the door, looking baffled.

I walked in, laying Amy on a couch, and brushing back her hair from her face, maybe she'd wake up from the movement.

She didn't. And I wouldn't stop trying.

I won't forgive myself should anything happen to her. I wouldn't.

The child was calling on his parents. "Mom, Dad, there's someone carrying a woman in our living room."

"They are coming," I tell Amy. I know she can hear me.

I heard audible footsteps approaching from a corridor.

"Myles?" I desperately yell at him, raising my head to find him and his wife in shock, staring at us.

"Cameron? What is this?" He fearfully asks; his wife begins putting away their child.

"Lauren needs to help her. She's gotten into a car accident. She wouldn't wake up." I eagerly explain.

"Cameron, you should call 911, not bring her here to my house," he starts scolding me when it's not the right time.

"I can't. Don't you think I will if that's an option? But it's not." I shoot up and circle over to him. Lauren had returned, looking confused with folded arms. "I really need your help like you do with us after terrible fights," I beg them. "Just look at her. Make her wake up, and we will leave. I swear." I promise.

Something can't happen to her because of me.

Myles looks over to his wife who nods in shared understanding.

"Okay. Get her up gently to the basement," she orders and I rush over, picking Amy's limp body to the basement where the equipment is.

I've been there numerous times, days when I will take beatings and can barely stand. Lauren has stitched me up and ran some check-ups and scanning here. It was illegal, but the fights were illegal too. So here is our little clinic.

I set Amy's body down on the bed, and Lauren signals for us to leave. I feel a bit of relief knowing she is finally being cared for, but my knees are weak; they can barely carry me up the stairs. I end up resting on the mid steps. Myles stops too and sighs, joining me.

"You have a match; you should go," I tell him.

"You know you are not just one of my boys. You are family, right?" He reminds me, and my eyes close.

"Thank you for taking her."

"Always, man." He taps my shoulder and squeezes it. "I never knew I would see a day the self-centered Cameron I know would fall on his knees for someone's life. Who is she?" I hear him say, and my head tilts to him; I give him a once-over.

He's talking nonsense. He knows nothing. I just feel pity for her. Jake is going to break her soon anyway.

"She's just a guest in my house."

"A guest?" He asks, sounding unconvinced, and I look at him, confused. Maybe it will be better if he just stops talking. "Okay." He surrenders his hand, and since then, I anxiously wait.

Minutes pass, and it is getting to an hour when Lauren shows up with a relieved look on her face. I straighten up, my heart pounding with a surge of hope for what she will report, feeling her husband's supportive hold over my shoulder.

"She's awake and okay." Hearing that, my soul returns to my body. "I've given her a dose of sedative; so she's not in her right state of mind right now. She might be drowsy and weak, but she will be fine after a good sleep," she explains.

"Thank you, Lauren." I lower down the stairs, anxiously cracking my knuckles.

She smiles and jerks her head in Amy's direction. "You can go see her."

My heart rate picks up again, and my steps start stealthily and carefully. The last time we talked, she hated me and wanted to get away from me; now she doesn't have the strength to pick up from that. She will only hurt herself. I hope she will see that and agree to be hopping mad tomorrow.

She is lying where I left her, with her eyes closed. Confusion sets in. Didn't Lauren say she was awakened?

I am about to turn back to the stairs and ask Lauren when I hear Amy's weary voice. "You are going to stand there forever?"

She's awake.

I take long steps over to the bed and stand there, realizing I don't know what to say.

"Did that drunk crash us?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Am I in the hospital?" she whines.

"No."

"So I am in jail?" She asks.

"No."

She tries opening her eyes more widely than the partly that they were, but she fails.

"Cam, don't play with me now." She mumbles.

"You are fine. I handled it. You are at my boss's house; his wife is a doctor. She ran some tests, and you are fine." I tell her, and she sighs, her eyes closing, her chest rising and falling in relief.

As promised, we have to go. Besides, I wouldn't keep Myles waiting.

"Come on, I will take you home." I let her know before picking her up. Now she is awake and able to hold my nape when I carry her in my arms and up the stairs.

Myles and Lauren are in the living room, on the same couch, waiting for us. As I appear, they both get up.

"Thank you, really," I tell them again, and Lauren smiles politely as I head to the door.

"Drive safe," she says.

"Quick recovery to her," Myles adds when he opens the door for us, and we say our goodnights.

In the car, I gently set Amy down on the passenger side and fixed her seatbelt. She is partly asleep, her hair messily covering her face, and when I talk to her, she mostly replies with humming. There is no choice but to brush aside her locks of red hair myself so she can breathe better.

Her tender skin is like caramel, her eyelashes full and long, resting on her cheeks while she breathes softly.

When she's comfortable, I hop inside the driver's side and silently drive us home.

Parking in the driveway, I text Jake about the accident and make sure to let him know she's fine before I tap Amy to wake up that we are home.

"Cam?" She mutters.

"Uhmm?"

"I am sorry I slapped you..." She says, and just when I begin to smile, she adds, "Outside."

I laugh.

"So it means you will do it indoors?"

"Umm hmm. If you hurt me so badly that I can't find a better revenge," she murmurs, making me laugh harder.

I mean, she's always physically attacking me in any confrontation we had, so I might as well get used to it. However, I didn't mean to hurt her or the poor guy who lost his job. I just can't do nothing when that woman from the store was treating her with no respect.

I got out and went around the car to her side. "Okay, Rambo. Let's get you in."

She hums, this time her arms wrap around my neck just as her legs around my waist, cocooning like a baby kangaroo on my front and that's how I carry her into the quiet house, up the stairs to her put-together room. The lights were dim and only coming from the partly open bathroom. I find the bed; it is neatly arranged. But then when I tried setting her down on it, she wouldn't let go. She stays glued, whining. I run out of ideas.

Her body temperature is a bit high; I can feel it from her face in the nook of my neck. "Let me get a cold towel so I can cool your skin," I pull out the pile of pillows and try to lay her again.

"Jake would stay with me. Do not leave me." her legs and arms hold me tightly as she says.

I wish she knew what she was doing, but maybe the sedatives have messed up her mind and now that she's glued to me, I got infected too. Because for some reason, I wanted to stay too.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?