The Truth About Us

Oh, crap. She hit someone. She hit an actual human being.

Shaking, Abigail opened her door and rounded the front of her car. Her legs felt more like rubber than flesh and bone as she stopped in front of the body and, once again, covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

No. No. No. Nope.

Okay, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. Bright side...bright side. Look at the bright side. There had to be one, dang-it!

If she went to jail for killing a man, she wouldn’t need to worry about her grandmother’s secret, so that was something.

She opened one eye, expecting the body to still be laying in front of her feet but nothing...

Opening both eyes, she blinked at the person straining to stand in front of her, legs wobbling from the effort like a baby fawn. He groaned as he half-stood, hunched over, rotating his arm.

“Argh! I think you dislocated my shoulder.”

Abby stepped forward, her hands fluttering out in front of her, unsure of where to land or what to do when the man straightened.

Instant recognition punched her in the gut. With a gasp, she pointed at him. “You’re not a man,” she said, shock and accusation finding her voice.

“Uh, thanks. I guess.” Kaden rubbed his back and hobbled toward the car as he tried to extract his bicycle from underneath the front-end.

“What are you doing here?”

Kaden winced. “Um, you just hit me with your car, remember? Maybe I should be asking you what you’re doing.”

Puffing his cheeks, he spread his legs and braced himself in front of the bike, then heaved, yanking it out from under the vehicle in one clean break—like ripping off a bandage. He stumbled back but somehow managed to catch his balance and rested his weight on the bike, assessing the damage.

The chain had popped, both tires were flat, and the rim was mangled with the back wheel hanging in the air like a strangled donut. Impressed at the Beetle’s destruction, Abigail pursed her lips before glancing back at him.

He grimaced. “Who knew such a small car could do so much damage?” His gaze flickered to the front of the yellow Beetle with disdain.

Unsure of what the next move was, Abby shifted on her feet, flexing her hands by her side. Did she call the police? File some sort of report? It’s not like she killed anybody. In fact, for a boy who just got hit by a car, he looked pretty good.

Her gaze roamed over him, checking for an injury while noting the way his hair—more blond than sandy in the sunlight—fell over his eyes in the most endearing way. She inspected his long, lean arms and legs. He wasn’t muscular, by any means, but he wasn’t wiry either. He struck her as somewhere in-between, which surprised her given his somewhat reclusive status, like that meant he did nothing but sit in his house behind a television screen all day.

Her eyes snagged on a rip in his jeans and on a tear on the side of his shirt where a smudge of something crimson stained the pale blue fabric. Leaping toward him, she reached out. With her heart in her throat, she lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a giant abrasion below his ribs. Her pulse fluttered at the sight of his bare skin, despite the metallic taste of fear coating her throat.

“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?” Lifting her eyes to his, she searched his face for signs of distress or injury. “I could’ve killed you,” she murmured and covered her eyes, then shook her head. “I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry. Do you need to go to the hospital?” She reached into her back pocket for her phone, then realized it must still be in the car. After all, she had wrecked while typing.

The sticky weight of guilt flooded her veins as she blinked up at him from under her eyelashes, feeling foolish and reckless and everything in-between. “Lemme go get my phone,” she muttered, hooking her thumb toward the car. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

She started to turn, but Kaden reached out and stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. “No, don’t!” he yelled.

When she glanced back at him, he swallowed, his dark eyes locked on hers. In a calmer voice, he continued, “Sorry. There’s no need. I’m fine. It’s just a brush burn, some scratches. Honestly.”

She started to argue but thought better of it. Did she really want the police to come? She had her grandmother’s car for one afternoon and already she’d gotten in an accident.

With a small smile, she turned back to face him. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“What were you doing anyway? Didn’t you see me on the side of the road?”

Abigail crossed her arms over her chest, her momentary relief gone, replaced with the need to defend herself.

“No.”

“Why not? Were you texting and driving or something?” He rolled his eyes, then mumbled, “Typical.”

Her jaw dropped. “Typical? What is that supposed to mean?” She raised a brow, but he said nothing, continuing to stare. “For your information I was... I was...”