Did something show on her face? Because Vance’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Layla—”
“Hey, you two!” It was Fitz, calling from the bottom of the stairs. “Come down for dinner!”
She popped up, grateful for the interruption.
“Layla, wait.” Vance made a grab for her shoulder, but she shook him off. His brother’s directive gave her an excuse to make an escape from Vance—though not, she was certain, from her newly acknowledged feelings for him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GUT ROILING WITH EMOTIONS, Vance hesitated in his room while Layla headed for the stairs. Something was going on with her, but the something that was going on inside of him was overwhelming his ability to read her. His gaze returned to those damning photos and he seethed, so angry at himself that he could hardly breathe.
He’d always blamed his father for the falling-out between him and his family—not understanding why the man had broken the promise of a position in the family company—but Christ, he’d been wild and irresponsible. Exactly how wild and irresponsible, he hadn’t realized until seeing these photos again. No wonder they’d cut him loose.
That he was different now...well, how could lost trust be regained?
With a last look at what he now thought of as the Wall of Shame, Vance steeled himself to go down to dinner. It wasn’t easy, not after looking at that damning proof. Christ, he couldn’t wait for this night to be over.
At the top of the stairs, he spied Layla on the landing below. Fitz was nowhere in sight, likely already in the dining room. As Vance took his first step, a tremendous noise from outside the house filled the foyer—the screech of brakes, a squealing slide, then the unmistakable crunch of metal meeting solid object.
Car crash.
Vance froze. His imagination? Had the sound been conjured from his memories and triggered by those photos? But even before his mind could filter the truth, instinct kicked in and he was flying downward. “Call 9-1-1,” he ordered Layla, who’d come to a halt. “Get Fitz, my dad, my uncle. We need blankets and a first-aid kit.”
Wide-eyed, she ran off.
The blood in his veins burned like ice as Vance stepped onto the front porch. Oh, God. The scene was straight out of a Driver’s Ed shock film. His heart slammed against his ribs as adrenaline surged through his system. The last time he’d faced blood and injuries, it had ended in death. Still, he raced across the courtyard and toward the road, cataloging details. Red pickup on its roof, resting against the trunk of a giant oak. Windshield shattered. Front end crumpled. At least one inside; no airbags deployed. Another unmoving figure was sprawled nearby, on the side of the road.
He dropped to the ground by the driver’s window. It was broken, too, the safety glass scattered like teardrops on the truck’s headliner. As he reached to turn off the ignition, he noted the driver was a teen boy—who appeared unconscious—with a seeping scalp wound. There was a teen girl on the passenger side, eyes closed and moaning.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Fitz and his father approach at a run. “You two need to divert any oncoming traffic,” he said, and leaped to his feet to rush toward the body lying on the ground. Another teenager, male, face pale, though his eyes were open and slowly blinking at the sky overhead. Vance knelt down. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m Vance, I’m going to help you.”
When the kid didn’t acknowledge him, Vance tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m Vance,” he said again. “How many were in the truck?”
This time, the boy’s eyes shifted to his face and he started blinking rapidly. “Wha—?”
“You’ve been in an accident. How many were in the truck?” He needed to know if there might be other injured persons unaccounted for.
“Th-three,” the kid said. “Where’s...?”
At that moment, Uncle Roy appeared at his elbow, blanket in hand. “Great,” Vance said. “Cover him, will you? And find a way to elevate his legs. He’s in shock.”
On his feet again, he raced back to the truck, this time going around to the passenger side and bending low. The girl was still moaning. “Hey, I’m Vance,” he said. “Can you open your eyes?”
She did, then immediately started struggling against the bonds of her shoulder harness and seat belt. “Need to get out.”
Vance touched her cheek. “No, don’t. You might have hurt your neck or back. The paramedics will be here soon. Try to stay calm.”