Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,24

sex tonight I would say no. Is that wrong? I’m almost twenty-two years old, and I’ve never had a one-night stand. I wonder what it would be like; if he’d still want to try dating me if I put out on the first date. But he’s so incredible, how can I say no without—

“MARLEE!”

Headlights flash on seconds before I’m slammed into from behind and fall crashing down into the rough pavement. My head collides with a crack. I hear the sound of tires screeching and open my eyes long enough to see a dark colored Impala whipping around the corner before I let my heavy lids slide closed again. My breathing is shallow, a sharp pain shooting through my side. I think my rib is broken.

“Fuck,” Elias grunts beside me.

“Are you okay?” I slowly sit myself up while my ribs scream in protest. I wrap my right arm around my left side, trying hold the rib I’m sure is broken in place. Anything to ease the pain.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” He scrambles to a crouch in front of me. He looks me over from head to toe, running his hands lightly over my body to feel for injuries. I take a breath and wince.

“Yeah. What just happened? I didn’t see that car before I crossed the street.”

“Don’t move. You’re in pain.” He stands up then bends over, lifting me easily into his strong arms, and takes me back towards the truck. He places me delicately on the hood. Taking my arms in his hands, Elias brushes away the gravel to look at my wounds. “That car came out of nowhere. I was almost too late. Christ, I don’t think I’ve run that fast in my entire life.” He lifts his hand up to stroke my cheek. “You’re bleeding, Marlee.”

He steps back, quickly undoing the buttons on his shirt. Removing the dress shirt, he peels the white undershirt over his head before putting the gray button up back on. The fabric remains open while he tends to my wounds, exposing the hard valleys and peaks of his toned chest and abs, unintentionally giving me something more pleasant to focus on.

“Why do you call me Marlee?” I whisper, partly because it’s hard to speak through the pain, partly because his half-naked body is captivating. Elias balls up his white tee and holds it to my bleeding face, dabbing lightly.

“I wanted something only I called you by. Do you not like it?” His eyes examine mine, asking for permission, searching for lies.

“I love it, actually. Much better than the name Travis used to call me,” I mutter. I lift my arms, circling his neck.

Elias doesn’t respond to my comment. Instead, he sets down the teeshirt beside me on the hood. Trailing his hands up my arms to where my hands grip his neck, he unclasps my hands, and brings them down in between us. He keeps my hands firmly grasped in his, rubbing soothing circles along the backs of my hands.

“As much as I’d like to lay you back and have my way with you right here, you should see a doctor. You might have a broken rib by the way you’re breathing and wincing.”

Holy shit.

Thank God, it’s cold out. My body temp just shot up like ten degrees. I might not have done this before, but his confident take-charge attitude throws all my reservations out the freaking window. Unfortunately for both of us, he’s right about the pain.

“I think you’re right. I’m sorry. I feel like I ruined the rest of our night.” I sigh in frustration. The fact he’s thinking about anything sexual right now put the pain of my rib on the back burner. Thinking of our heated kisses, and that he’s practically shirtless, has me thinking dirty thoughts about him too.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Let’s go get you fixed up, and we can reschedule our date for you to come over tomorrow.” He kisses my forehead, and I reluctantly allow him to help me into the truck.

CHAPTER FOUR

Travis

March 19, 2015

It was worse than I could have imagined.

I stood before the infamous Brooks and Boulder LLP, determined to do my mother’s bidding. I hadn’t visited her in months, but yesterday I got the urge to check in on her. Broken mind, lost spirit, her body has been following the rest of her. For over an hour, I listened to her ramble, mostly incoherently. Yet at times, if I listened deeply enough, I could understand the utterances of pain spilling