Page 61 of Counted

She didn’t like failing tests. It bothered her. She fought to clear her mind.

Her head hurt, and her neck was a little sore. And the skin on one of her cheeks felt raw. But nothing else seemed damaged.

It mostly felt like her whole body had been painfully jarred.

There were more vehicles arriving now. Everything was loud and confusing, and there were a lot of bright headlights. Someone else came over and asked her more questions. Shined a flashlight into her eyes and asked her name, the year, and the president.

She was pretty sure she got all those answers right, so that made her feel better.

Her pretty blue car was all crunched up in the front.

The driver of the SUV was in much worse shape than she was. The guy wasn’t even out of the vehicle yet. She watched as the first responders worked to get him out and then carried him off on a stretcher.

She hoped he was okay and was glad she wasn’t as injured as that.

It felt like a long time she’d been sitting there, but it was probably no more than fifteen or twenty minutes when her mind finally cleared of the fog.

She understood exactly what had happened and what was still happening now. And she remembered that she’d been talking to Jude when her car got hit.

He’d heard that something was wrong. He’d asked if she was all right. He was going to be worried.

She needed to tell him she was okay.

She needed to tell him right now.

She looked around, but her phone wasn’t with her. It must still be in her car. She stood up and started walking toward it, but a uniformed police officer stopped her. Told her it wasn’t safe.

“But I need my phone,” she explained, pleased that she sounded so calm and lucid.

“We’ll get it for you as soon as we can.”

“I need to call Jude.” She was starting to get upset, her voice going slightly shrill despite her attempts to keep her composure. “My husband.”

“They’re going to take you to the hospital to check you for concussion. They’ll contact your husband for you.”

“I don’t want to wait until then.” She wasn’t very good at standing up for herself. She always wanted to avoid conflict and so usually just went with the flow. But Jude had heard something happen while he was on the phone with her. He was going to be deeply concerned. He’d probably called back, but she hadn’t answered. He would have no idea what was going on. She raised her voice slightly as she said, “I need to call my husband now.”

“It’s all going to be fine, miss,” the man said, his tone making it clear he believed she was growing hysterical. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. We’ll get your husband with you as soon as possible.”

Nothing could have upset her any more than that patronizing tone. Her head was killing her, and Jude was worried about her. And no one would give her a damned phone.

She tried to pitch her voice to be as clear and authoritative as she could. “I don’t need to be talked down to. I need to call my husband right now!”

“Eve!”

She heard her name over the chaos. Recognized the voice. She looked around frantically, turning away from the condescending officer.

After a minute, she heard her name called out again, and this time she was able to locate the direction. Turning toward it, she saw Jude trying to get through the perimeter of the accident scene.

He saw her just as she saw him. His expression changed, and he jogged around the perimeter until he reached the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Then he ran toward her bench.

His hair was loose and messy. His expression was tight and urgent. He wore a white T-shirt and dark blue pajama pants. When he reached her, he was panting loudly. He grabbed her head between both his hands and scrutinized her from top to bottom.

“I’m okay,” she told him. “They want to take me to the hospital to check for concussion, but I think I’m okay.”

He made a rough sound in his throat and pulled her into a very tight hug.

She buried her face in his shirt. Then, to her horror, she burst into tears.