Page 127 of Never Alone
He got one hit in. The jaw. The man's head snapped sideways. Then the one who'd shoved him was on his back, and the third stepped away from the driver's side to come help, and Cole had two of them on him. The third was free, and the third had his fists ready.
I screamed.
I screamed his name. I screamed at the men. I beat my hands on the inside of the glass, and the man at my door didn't look at me. He didn't look at me once. He was looking at Cole.
They had Cole between them by then. One arm pulled behind his back. The other against the side of the truck. The free man worked him over—ribs, ribs, ribs, the side of his face—and Cole made a sound the second time the fist hit his ribs that I would hear in my body for a long time after.
I hit the horn.
The horn went and went. The man at my door didn't move.
I scrambled across the cab for the driver's door. The man at that window leaned in too. The handle moved in my hand, and the door didn't. I scrambled back. I tried to climb over the seat. The third hit landed, and Cole's knees buckled.
"COLE—"
I had my phone in my hand. I didn't remember getting it out. My fingers were going on the screen.
That was when Sean came around the corner of the building.
He had a baseball bat in one hand, and his other hand was already free. He didn't yell. He didn't say a word. He came across the gravel at the men holding Cole, and he had the bat up over his shoulder, and the two men holding Cole let go. The third turned and saw Sean coming, and all three of them broke and ran.
Cole went down where they let him go.
The men ran for the road. Sean swept the lot once with the bat—the way you sweep a room you haven't cleared yet—and then he dropped the bat next to him and was at Cole's side and on his phone.
I was out of the truck before I'd thought about being out.
I got down on the gravel next to Cole. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. There was blood at his hairline. His eyes were open, barely.
"Cole. Cole. I'm here. I'm here."
"Don't move him."
Sean's voice was at my shoulder. Calm. Flat. The voice of a man on a call.
"Tessa. Don't move him."
"Okay."
"Yes—I need an ambulance. Assault. Male victim, conscious. Multiple blows to the chest and head. He's on the ground. We're not moving him."
He was crouched on the other side of Cole. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder, both hands free. One of his hands was at Cole's throat for a second—checking—and then off. The other one came up to Cole's face, light, two fingers under his chin.
"Weston. Hey. You with me?"
Cole's eyes moved.
"Good. Stay with me."
I had Cole's hand. I didn't remember taking it.
"Tessa." Sean again. "I need you to stay calm. I've seen worse than this. He's going to be okay. But he can't get worked up right now. So I need you to stay with him and stay calm. Can you do that?"
I was crying. I didn't know when I'd started.
"Tessa."
"Yes."
