“We need to go to the hospital,” she said in a low voice. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a concussion.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Jasper sounded amused. “Checking him for a concussion?”
“I’m serious,” Abby said, feeling herself blushing.
“Why?” Jasper asked. “Is he dizzy? Did he puke? Or pass out?”
“No, and he says he doesn’t have a headache, but he’s acting very weird.”
“I don’t have a concussion.” Sebastian had gotten to his feet and was walking over to them.
“But you agreed that you would go to the hospital,” said Abby, and led him around the van, opening the passenger-side door. “You sit,” she said. “Jasper and I will get the bikes.”
Sebastian had climbed into the van’s backseat. Abby and Jasper trotted off through the rain.
“Can you forget that you saw anything?” Abby asked in a low voice.
“Forget what?” he replied, his expression innocent.
Abby smiled at him, weak-kneed with relief, even though her cheeks were still hot. She felt dizzy and unsettled and more than a little ashamed. There weren’t explicit rules against leaders fraternizing with the paying riders, and Lizzie had told Abby that it happened. And then there was Mark, the unresolved situation hanging over her head, like a boulder dangling from an increasingly frayed length of rope. And her mother, along for the ride, watching everything with her gimlet gaze. And Morgan. Abby took a moment to hope that Morgan had gotten to her appointment safely, that her situation had been resolved and her mind was at ease.
Once the bikes were stowed, Abby buckled herself into the front passenger’s seat, and Jasper climbed behind the wheel. In the rearview mirror, she saw Sebastian giving her a puzzled look. Abby did her best to ignore it, wiping her phone’s screen dry and starting to google.
“Okay, there’s an urgent care and an actual emergency room in Seneca Falls. What do you think?” she asked Jasper. “The hospital, right?” She started the directions to the hospital, then looked up signs of concussion, wondering if sudden attraction to unsuitable person would be one of them. “Do you want me to call Lincoln?” she asked Sebastian, without turning around to look at him.
“I’ll do it. Hang on.” He didn’t put the phone on speaker, but the van wasn’t that large, and Abby could hear every word.
“What happened?” Lincoln asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I hit something and went flying off the bike. I’m fine. Abby and Jasper are driving me to the hospital so I can get checked out because that’s the company policy.”
Silence. Abby could imagine Lincoln, who’d watched Sebastian fighting with Abby over wearing a reflective pinny, trying to absorb the news that his friend was now willing to go to the hospital with her, without even putting up a fight. “Do you have your insurance card?” Lincoln finally asked.
“Yup.”
“Okay. Text me when you get there. I’ll come meet you.”
“Fine. But there’s nothing wrong with me. My knees got scraped, but Abby bandaged them.”
“Were you bleeding?” Lincoln asked. “Did you pass out?”
“I was, but I didn’t. Abby took care of me.”
Lincoln’s voice turned wary. “I hope you thanked her.”
“Oh, I did.” In the rearview mirror, Abby saw Sebastian wink. She looked away, feeling her cheeks get hot again.
Sebastian ended the call and smiled pleasantly at Abby in the rearview mirror. Abby shook her head. She was starting to wonder if maybe she was concussed, if she’d bonked her head at some point, if she was going to wake up, still in bed in Syracuse, and discover that the whole morning had been a dream. Then, with a stab of guilt, she thought about Morgan, and Andy, and bent over her phone to text Kayla and check in. But even as she typed, part of her was still feeling Sebastian’s warm lips against hers, Sebastian gripping her fingers, Sebastian pulling her into his lap and calling her his little lemon drop.
Lily
2:00 p.m.
The morning in Seneca Falls turned out to be one of the nicest times Lily could remember. Jasper had driven them right to their hotel. She and Eileen had checked in, dropped off their luggage, then borrowed umbrellas and walked out into the rain, past the Wesleyan Chapel, where, a plaque informed them, the first women’s rights convention had been held in 1848. A long span of gray stone, covered in trickling water, ran parallel to the sidewalk, inscribed with the words of the Declaration of Sentiments. The rain tapered off just enough to let Lily and Eileen slow down and read them.