He seemed a bit more at ease, too. The conversation wasn’t as stilted, but it wasn’t lively, either. Sam mentioned the Seahawks and seemed surprised that she knew a fair bit about professional football. It was comforting to have scored points with him.
About halfway through dinner, Owen glanced from one to the other and said, “You should tell Sam the story you told me about Mozart.”
Beth chanced a look at Sam. “Would you like to know something about Mozart?” she asked.
“Of course he would,” Rocco answered for him.
Sam shot his friend a look that clearly said he could answer for himself. “Sure, why not,” he said.
“I’ll tell it,” Owen said, excitedly. “Mozart started playing the piano at age three and was composing at age four.”
“That’s cool,” Sam said, clearly unimpressed. “I wonder if Carrie Underwood started singing around that age.”
Owen frowned. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Nope.”
The remainder of dinner passed quickly, with Nichole and Rocco carrying most of the conversation. Every now and again Sam would glance at Beth and they’d share a look. She hoped he understood she was as much a casualty as he was. He didn’t give any indication what he felt, and that was fine.
As soon as the dinner dishes had been cleared, Nichole said, “I made applesauce cake for dessert.”
“I swear I couldn’t eat another bite,” Beth said, planting her hands on her stomach as if she was about to explode.
Sam scooted back his chair and pantomimed her action. “Me neither.”
“In fact, I should probably be heading home,” Beth added.
“I should, too.”
Both Beth and Sam got to their feet as if they couldn’t leave fast enough.
“Are you sure?” Owen asked Sam. “I thought applesauce cake was your favorite.”
“He’s sure,” Rocco said. “I’ll save some for you later,” he assured his friend.
“Thank you for the lovely meal,” Beth said, reaching for her purse on her way to the door.
“Yes, thank you,” Sam added.
They reached the front door and in a comedy of errors both tried to go through it at the same time. Beth looked up at Sam and smiled; he chuckled and held the door open for her. Neither one of them was willing to stay a minute longer than necessary.
Beth climbed into her car and drove away first, with Sam right behind her in his monster truck.
They pulled up to the intersection at the same time. Beth was in the turn lane and Sam was right next to her.
She looked over at him, and after a moment he glanced at her. If she’d had the nerve she would have mouthed the word sorry, knowing he’d been as miserable as she’d been.
The light turned green and Beth drove into the intersection.
And that was when she saw the vehicle come barreling toward her and knew there was no way to avoid a collision.
No way to escape.
Chapter 4
Sam
Sam watched in horror as the car raced directly toward Beth’s vehicle. Instinctively, he shouted out a warning, as if that would do any good, but it was too late.
The sound of the impact was explosive, sending Beth’s vehicle spinning like a toy top. Several cars screeched to a stop, looking to avoid any further collisions. Sam was the first one out of his vehicle, racing toward Beth’s car, his heart pounding so hard it felt as if it was about to explode inside his chest. Thankfully, he wasn’t a man given to panic. Adrenaline shot through him and he saw that his hands were shaking, not knowing what he would find.
As he ran past he noticed that the other car, the one that hit Beth’s, looked to be in much better shape. The front end was smashed and steam rose from the dented hood. The young girl inside was moaning, but he ignored her, eager to do what he could to help Beth, who had taken the brunt of the impact.
He was the first one to reach her. The driver’s-side window had shattered, and the airbag had discharged. Glass had spilled on the inside and he saw that she had several lacerations on her face and hands.
“Beth,” he said gently, wanting to reassure her, “it’s Sam. Are you badly hurt?”
Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at him, her eyes locking with his as she groaned. He could see she was going into shock and grabbed his cell and immediately dialed 911.
“What’s your emergency?” the woman on the other end of the line requested.
“Multiple car accident, corner of Sandy Boulevard and Sixteenth Street,” he shouted into his phone. “Looks like one woman is badly hurt, minor injuries to the other.”
A moment passed. “Dispatch has been notified.”
“Hurry,” he pleaded. “I’m pretty sure the woman is going into shock.”
“Dispatch has been notified.” Before he could cut the connection, the 911 operator asked for his name and number, which Sam quickly supplied. As soon as he was off the phone, he leaned toward Beth. “Help is on the way,” he assured her. “You’re going to be okay.”
All she seemed to be able to manage was another moan.
He heard someone screaming hysterically behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see the other driver had climbed out of her vehicle. “My father is going to kill me.”
“If he doesn’t, I will,” Sam shouted back at her, furious with the teenager.
“My brakes failed,” she insisted.
Sam knew it was a lie. Just before the crash he was convinced he saw the girl’s phone in her hand. He’d stake his next year’s pay on the bet she’d been texting.
Other drivers had stopped and someone tried to calm down the hysterical teenager. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Thank God.
Beth continued to groan, and he noticed that her breathing had gone shallow and she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Not knowing what else to do, he reached for her hand and held it gently in his own. “The medics will be here any minute,” he reassured her softly. “Hold on. Everything will be better once they get here.”
She tried to speak, he noticed, but seemed unable to form words. Her eyes were intently focused on him.
Sam picked a piece of glass from her hair and then brushed it from her forehead. Blood marred her face. He would have given anything to comfort her, but he didn’t know what more to say or do. Holding her hand seemed lame, but under these circumstances he didn’t know what else was possible. Her gaze held his, as if fixing on him gave her what she needed to endure the pain.
The fire department arrived and a team of men raced toward Beth. One of the men asked Sam to stand back, which he did, albeit reluctantly. Beth groaned loudly in protest when he released her hand.
Sam could hear them speaking to one another, and although he couldn’t understand all the medical jargon, he knew enough to figure out that she had suffered multiple fractures. Thankfully, the airbag had deployed, which saved her from greater injury.
He waited while the firemen pried open the badly dented door. Police arrived and began asking him questions. His heart continued to pound as he watched the team work to free Beth from the tangled vehicle.
“You witnessed the accident?” the officer asked, pad and pen in hand.
“Yes. I was stopped at the red light. Beth entered the intersection when the signal turned green.”
“You know the victim?”
“I only met her tonight.”
“Are you sure the light was green?”
He glared at the police officer. “Positive. The other driver was texting.”
“You saw that?”
“No, but if I were you I’d check her phone.”
The cop nodded. “I’ll do that.”
The girl was being attended to by a medic and continued with hysterics, claiming her brakes had failed. Thankfully, she admitted she’d run a red light. Her sobs echoed into the night. She seemed far more worried about her father’s reaction to the accident than about the fact that her carelessness had badly injured Beth. Sam wanted to shake some sense into her but knew anything he said or did wouldn’t be appreciated. The questions went on for what seemed like an eternity. Even while being interviewed he couldn’t take his eyes off Beth. Once the door was removed and she was lifted from the vehicle, she cried out in what could only be excruciating pain. Sam grimaced and glared once more at the teenager who’d caused the accident. Beth was placed on a gurney. He tried to see her as the medics placed her inside the emergency vehicle. As best he could tell, she was now unconscious.