Page 146 of First in Line

Once it’s secure, she says, “We can remove it.” Carefully, they tug the helmet off and discard it.

When she comes closer to check my pupils with a small flashlight, I ask, “Did I lose my eye? I can’t see anything out of it.”

“Blink for me.”

I do it until she says, “Your eye seems okay. It’s just blood from a cut in your brow. There’s also one on your cheekbone. But you may have a concussion.”

“Can you tell my wife I’m okay? She must be so scared right now.”

“Let’s focus on you first, alright? Can you tell me your name?”

“Evangeline. It’s Evangeline Reyes.”

“No,yourname.”

“Oh, Jackson Mitchell Reyes.”

“Good. What day is it, Jackson?”

“Sunday.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“My ribs. Left side.”

“And your back?”

I move carefully at first, then stretch more. “No, I’m good.”

“That’s great. Can you move your feet for me?” She looks down to make sure I do it right, then refocuses her attention on my face. “We’ll put you on a stretcher and drive you to the medical center for a full scan.”

“Can Evie ride with us?” I insist.

“No, she can’t come on the track.” She turns to a marshal and asks, “Can you go find his wife and take her to the medical center? Evangeline Reyes.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Then, she’s back to me to say, “Okay, stay with me, Jackson. Tell me about your wife.”

“We’re having a baby,” I say with a smile. Then I remember. “But no one knows yet, so you can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. Does she always come to watch you race?”

She keeps asking me questions about Evie, probably to keep me engaged, conscious, and alert, until the stretcher arrives. She oversees the move as three medics lift me out of the car to lay me on it. Then I’m rolled toward an ambulance.

I realize we’re moving because my ribs hurt even more. But it doesn’t last long, and they roll me out of the ambulance to wheel me into a building. I stare at the neon lights passing above me, wondering how the hell I got myself in this situation.

“Jackson!” Evie shouts.

I try to lift my head and look, but the medic presses her hand on my forehead. “Don’t move,” she orders.

I don’t have to because Evie is suddenly by my side. Her slim hand finds mine, and I squeeze it back. Tears soak her pretty face, eyes red like her nose. “My God, your eye…” she whines.

“It’s scarier than it looks,” the medic reassures her. “His eye is okay.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Princess, I’m so sorry. I don’t think we’ll make it to Tuscany,” I say, gripping her hand harder.