…” I shook my head, my eyes glued to the screen. My legs swayed, and I bumped into the stool behind me, sending it clattering to the ground. The whole room had gone quiet, and everyone was staring at me. The TV replayed it over and over, slowing it down; showing Carson flick over the handlebars of his bike, showing his body hit the ground. In slow motion, I saw his helmet hit the road before it bounced back up again. His shoulder smashed into the tarmac, and his arm twisted behind him before he started skidding along the track with pieces of his bike whizzing past him.
My lungs constricted as my heart squeezed in my chest. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, watching it over and over. The voices in my headphones were talking, but I couldn’t understand a single word they were saying. My head was muffled; my vision swam before me as my eyes filled my tears.
Carson’s legs weren’t moving. He wasn’t moving at all. People were trying to dig him out, pulling pieces of the wooden sign off him, throwing them to the side carelessly. It took two of them to drag his bike off his body. I watched it all, knowing I’d caused this accident because of the argument we’d had and by me not admitting my feelings for him. And now it was too late. He had crashed and died, and he would never, ever know I loved him more than life itself, that I had always loved him and would give my life for his in a heartbeat. He would never know he was my whole world.
Suddenly, the cameras flicked back to the race. That was when I finally snapped back into reality. I pulled my headphones off, dropping them carelessly on the floor. “What do I do?” I cried, turning to Katrina and grabbing her elbow to steady myself as my legs almost buckled. “I need to go there. How do I get there?”
Her eyes were sympathetic as she looked over my shoulder. I glanced in that direction, seeing two men walking toward me, both wearing staff T-shirts. I gulped, swiping my tears as they started to stream down my face. My whole world was disappearing into nothingness around me as I realised I might never get to see his smile again, never get to look into his eyes or feel his skin under my fingertips.
“Miss Bancroft, there’s been an accident. Carson’s with the medics right now. Would you like us to take you to him?”
I nodded quickly, stumbling forward as my heart began to hammer in my chest. “Yes,” I whimpered. “Is he okay? It looked so bad. He wasn’t moving, please… is he going to be all right?” I gripped the man’s sleeve as my chin wobbled. I needed an answer. I needed him to reassure me I wasn’t going to have to tell my little girl that the daddy she’d only just met and fell in love with had left to go up to Heaven. I didn’t want to have to say those words. I couldn’t.
The guy smiled sadly and motioned toward the door with his spare hand. “I don’t know any details, miss. They just told me to bring you down.” His hand closed over my elbow as he started guiding me through the room. As we walked past people, I saw their sullen, sympathetic faces. The distaste was now gone from them; now I was one of them, and they felt empathy for me. In that moment, my past and my job didn’t matter because they could feel my pain.
“He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.” Repeating it as we walked out of the building and out to a golf buggy didn’t help at all. “Where is he? How long will it take to get to him?” I mumbled, wringing my hands.
Without answering my question, the guy helped me in and then slid beside me as someone else jumped into the front and pulled out. The little road we were on ran alongside the track, and spectator stands stood to my left. People continued to shout and cheer. The other drivers whizzed past us on the other side of the fence, their engines making such a loud noise it made my ears ring. Everything was carrying on as normal, completely oblivious that my whole life was over and my world had stopped turning.
Suddenly, the guy holding my arm put his hand up to his ear before turning back to me. “He’s alive. They’re assessing him now, but he’s conscious.”
My heart leapt at his words and I closed my eyes, silently sending up thanks to whoever was watching over him. “He is?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine as my whole body sagged with relief. “Is he all right? How long will it take to get there?”
I didn’t need him to answer my question though because, in front of me, I could see two ambulances, a fire engine, a large crowd of people and security, and some of Carson’s team all milling around. To my right, on the track, I could see the remains of Carson’s bike and the rubble he’d caused when he’d smashed into the sign and the fence beyond. My mouth popped open, seeing the wreckage and carnage left in his wake. A whimper left my lips as the terrifying truth hit me head-on. I had no idea what I was going to see as the golf buggy skidded to a stop next to the ambulance.
I jumped out, stumbling and just managing to catch myself as panic took over. I needed to get there, I needed to see him. There was no time to lose because the wreckage I’d just seen was so severe he wouldn’t survive. He couldn’t survive that. I’d inadvertently killed him.
As I ran toward the large crowd of staff and emergency response teams, a security guard stepped in front of me, throwing his arm in front of me and stopping my panic-stricken attempt to get to Carson. “No public!” he barked, shaking his head adamantly.
I whimpered and struggled, trying to get out of his hold. “I need to see him, let go of me!” I cried, unashamedly aiming a kick into his shins. “Get off me!” I shouted. Anger was simmering in my veins. He was wasting valuable seconds.
“Phil, Phil, let her go!” someone called behind me.
I didn’t stop to look who it was as the arms suddenly loosened around me. Instead, I pushed myself away from him and ran, weaving through the five-people-deep crowd. They all seemed to be looking in the same direction. I could hear them whispering. Terms like ‘lucky’ and ‘close call’ filled my ears. I didn’t stop to try and digest them, though, just pushed my way through the crowd toward the ambulance parked with its doors open.
As I shoved myself past the last person, my eyes landed on him. Carson. He was alive, just like the guy had told me. He was lying on a gurney, a thick white brace covering his neck and holding his head in place. Black smudges marred his face, and his leather jumpsuit was scratched up and ripped in places. They’d taken it half off, leaving it loose around his waist. He had his eyes closed and was wincing in pain as the paramedic poked and prodded at him.
I choked on a sob, feeling relief and gratitude wash over me. He was alive. I hadn’t lost him. And, surprisingly, he didn’t look in terrible shape, either. My mind was whirling as I hesitantly stepped forward, my whole body shaking and my legs barely supporting my weight. The pain of losing him and thinking he was dead haunted me still, and I knew it would take me a long time to get over that feeling completely. It still sat in my stomach, churning, mixing with the relief I felt because he was alive and relatively unscathed.
As I stopped at his side, he opened his eyes, looking up at me. The blue of his eyes caught me off-guard, as it did every time I saw them. My breathing faltered, and my legs finally gave out. I sank to my knees in front of him and burst into tears, pressing my face into his stomach and sobbing uncontrollably.
One of his hands touched the back of my head as my body shook with sobs. “Em, shh… it’s all right. I’m okay,” he croaked somewhat breathlessly. “Don’t cry, come on,” he whispered.
I sniffed and pulled back, looking up at him as my chin trembled and my breathing hitched. “You’re okay? That looked,” I shook my head, not having the right words to describe the terrifying, soul-shattering accident I’d watched on repeat on the television, “awful,” I finished.
He reached over and brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek before doing the same to the other, wiping my tears away. “I have a few knocks. Something funky has definitely happened to my arm, but I’m not too bad. I was lucky,” he answered.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I had no words to tell him how much he’d frightened me, how terrified I was, how guilty I felt for being the cause of his lack of concentration. “It’s lucky your guardian angel could keep up with you,” I mumbled, echoing the words of the tattoo he had on his side.
A sad smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “My guardian angel is on her knees in front of me.”
My heart stuttered in my chest as I closed my eyes and turned my face into his hand, relishing in the feel of his skin against my cheek. “In that case, your guardian angel desperately needs a change of underwear,” I joked, pushing myself up to my feet so I could look down at him properly. He chuckled awkwardly, wincing at the small movement. “Carson, don’t do that to me again. I thought you’d died; I thought you’d gone before I could tell you…” I took a deep breath and prepared myself to make a life-altering confession to him, but before I could finish speaking, the paramedic cleared his throat.
“Let’s get this on you. It’ll relieve some of the pressure from your shoulder and should make you more comfortable,” he said, holding out a skin-coloured foam strip shaped like the figure eight. He unfastened one end and carefully looped it around Carson’s neck before gingerly picking up Carson’s arm and pushing his hand through the loop at the bottom. The groan of agony Carson made had the hair standing up on the back of my neck. Once he was done, the paramedic smiled sympathetically. “I’m fairly satisfied there’s no head or neck injury, but we’ll have to leave the collar on until they can do some proper tests. We’re ready to move you to the hospital. They’ll pop that back in when we get there. I think there may be some broken ribs, too.”
I glanced up at him when he spoke. “Pop what in?” I questioned, confused. Carson scrunched his nose as another paramedic helped the first wheel the gurney toward the open doors of the ambulance.
“His shoulder. It’s dislocated,” the first paramedic answered.
A shudder washed over me, but I tried my best not to show any reaction. Carson saw it, though, and he chuckled quietly. “You can wait outside when they do it,” he offered.
Bile rose in my throat. Too bloody right I’m waiting outside. I cannot see that! Ignoring his smug face, I looked at the paramedic. “I can get in the ambulance, too, right? I’m his fiancée.” I sniffed, wiping my nose on the back of my hand discreetly, silently wishing I had a tissue because I was sure to look an absolute mess.
“Of course,” the paramedic answered. As soon as they’d settled Carson’s bed over on the right hand side, I climbed in. I sat opposite him and looked at him worriedly, wondering what I could do to help him. It was clear just by the stiff way he was lying and the paleness to his face that he was in a lot of pain.
Just before the doors closed, one of Carson’s team stepped forward and placed Carson’s helmet on his stomach. “Don’t forget that, mate. Lucky helmet that,” the guy grinned.
My eyes settled on the helmet and my stomach clenched, seeing just how much of a close call it really was. Carson’s helmet was cracked all around one side, scratches covering almost every inch of it. The visor was gone, ripped off no doubt because the clip on the side was shattered. As I looked at the thing that had saved Carson’s life, I burst into tears all over again.