The Breakaway(76)

“What happened?” she shouted.

“Don’t know. Must’ve hit something. Branch. Or something.”

Sebastian didn’t sound good. His teeth were still chattering, his knees were both streaming blood, and his face was alarmingly pale. Abby pulled out her phone and called Jasper.

“Hey there.”

“Hey, Jasper. Sebastian’s having some mechanical difficulties.” She didn’t want to alarm anyone else in the van, in case she was on speaker—especially not her mom—and mechanical difficulties sounded a lot less dire than went headfirst over his bike into the road. “There was a little bit of a wipeout, though, so I’m going to call an ambulance…”

“No.” Sebastian grabbed her arm. His teeth were still chattering. “No ambulance. I’m fine.”

“You have to get checked out.” Abby blinked rainwater out of her eyes. “Company policy.”

“You. Take me.”

She gave him a careful look, examining his pupils, trying to see if they were the same size. “I don’t have a car.”

“Sag wagon.”

She shook her head. “Jasper’s all the way in Seneca Falls. That’s going to take too long.”

“Uber, then.”

Abby thought. It was possible that a rideshare made sense. Certainly, it would get them to the hospital faster than waiting for Jasper. Assuming she could even get an Uber here, in the ass end of nowhere. “Okay. Jasper, I’ll call you back.” She ended the call and looked at Sebastian, trying to figure out what to do first.

“Let me see your helmet.” His hands, she saw, were shaking, and it took him a few tries to unclip the straps. “Do you think you passed out when you fell?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t think so, or no, you didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“No.”

“Any dizziness? Nausea?”

“No.” He pulled in a breath, looking genuinely contrite. “I just feel stupid.”

You should. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s my fault.” He sounded truly sorry. More than sorry. He sounded wretched. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you ride in the rain.”

Facts, thought Abby. She ran to her bike and pulled the first aid kit out of her handlebar bag, removing what she’d need: gauze, rubbing alcohol, Neosporin, Band-Aids. “Let me see your knees.”

Sebastian looked down at his legs, then immediately jerked his head up, squeezing his eyes shut. “Eugh,” he said, and planted both of his hands on the guardrail like he was trying to keep steady.

“What?” Shit. “Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” Maybe he’d gotten hurt worse than she’d suspected.

“No. It’s blood,” Sebastian said, his voice faint. He’d wrapped his arms around himself and had tucked his hands into his armpits. “I get sick if I look at blood.”

Awesome, Abby thought. This day just kept getting better. “Okay. Don’t look. Just keep your eyes closed.” Except she was worried that if he tried to stay perched on the guardrail with his eyes shut, he’d end up falling backward into the culvert, and she’d have to go pull him out, and wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of the day’s mud-and-misery sundae? “Can you stand up? Good. Hold my arm. Come with me.” She led him, hobbling, down the street, to where a tree in the middle of an empty lot gave some shelter from the wind and rain. It probably made an excellent target for the lightning, too, but Abby couldn’t worry about too many things at once. When they arrived, she put her hand on his shoulder, half-coaxing, half-pushing him down onto the wet grass. “Put your head between your legs. Take deep breaths.” She could see him shivering, could hear his inhalations, but at least he wasn’t arguing. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his lips were pressed together so tightly that they’d all but disappeared.

“Deep breaths,” Abby repeated, crouching down to inspect the wounds, which seemed to be lots of long but shallow scratches. “In for a count of four, hold for a count of four, blow out for a count of four. I’m going to clean your knees off, then bandage them. And then I’ll see about getting us an Uber. Okay? You just keep breathing, and keep your eyes shut.” She squirted off the bulk of the grit with her water bottle, then tore open an alcohol-soaked gauze pad. “Little sting,” she murmured, before swiping his knee. She saw him flinch, heard a tiny moan as she worked. She tried to be quick and as gentle as possible as she cleaned the scrapes.

“It’s not everyone’s blood. Not blood in general. Just my own,” Sebastian said. His eyes were still shut, face still pale as skim milk.

Okay, tough guy, Abby thought.

“I’m not a tough guy,” Sebastian said, and made a noise that sounded like laughter but contained very little humor. Abby realized she’d been talking out loud. Oops.

“No,” she said, mostly to herself, “you’re just inconsiderate.”

“You’re right,” he said, through his chattering teeth. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

She washed the grit and rainwater off her fingers before opening the packets of Neosporin and starting to dab it onto his scratches.