A/N: Forgot to mention--the Grammies are being held in L.A., so that's where the story is currently taking place. Sorry for the wait, buuuuut I'll update again later today. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys rock! Keep 'em coming!

xx

Chapter 3

I looked to the left, then the right, and I saw the same thing on both sides: trees. There were no cars in front of or behind us--we were alone on the road. As we were leaving the awards, Tommy had switched on the radio to check the traffic report. A man had reported an accident at one of the major intersections of the city and traffic was backed up for several blocks, not moving. I began to shake uncontrollably as it dawned on me that that accident was probably the one Sadie and my dad were in. Noticing my trembling, Tommy quickly switched off the radio and maneuvered us onto some of L.A.'s back roads to avoid the backup.

We kept driving and the road remained eerily empty, and I couldn't decide if I preferred it this way or not. For one thing, I had never felt so completely and utterly alone, despite the fact that Tommy was sitting right next to me. The only sound in the cool night air came from the Viper--it felt like I was in a vacuum with all the life sucked out of it except for myself. I was finally recognizing the difference between feeling lonely and actually being alone.

If there had been a lot of traffic, though, I probably would've felt like an ant--just one of a billion. I wouldn't be different from anyone else sitting in their car, even though I felt totally different. None of the other drivers were on the way to the hospital to see their family die, now were they? If we weren't the only car on the road, I know I'd feel small and insignificant, like my problems were worthless and didn't matter. And to everyone but me, that's exactly what they were.

Something warm and strong grasped my hand, and I nearly shrieked at the contact as I jumped in my seat. Glancing down, I realized that Tommy's hand had enclosed my own and was giving me a reassuring squeeze. The heat from his skin shocked me back into reality--I wasn't alone.

"You okay?" He asked quietly--tentatively--as though afraid that I would suddenly crumble to pieces in front of him if he spoke in a louder voice.

"Never better." I replied, only slightly regretful for my biting tone. His hand still on mine, Tommy took his eyes away from the road to look at me, to observe me, to read me. As our gazes locked, he silently conveyed that he understood what my sarcasm was trying to hide--fear. Pure, unadulterated, gut-wrenching fear.

Eventually his focus returned to the road, but his hand remained intertwined with mine, and I was suddenly very grateful for the human contact. My hold tightened to the point of where it had to be painful for him. Still, I couldn't loosen my grip--his hand was my last lifeline, and I knew if I let go I could be lost forever.

"Tommy..." I whispered shakily, feeling my voice already beginning to crack.

Instantly he turned to face me, prepared to help in any possible way he could. I never got to finish my thought, though, because while Tommy's attention had been on me, he had accidentally missed a stop sign at a four-way intersection. I found myself illuminated in light, and whipping my head around I stared straight into the unfaltering glare of a pair of oncoming headlights.

I vaguely remember Tommy cursing while he slammed on the brakes and yanked on the wheel, and I think I might have screamed, I don't really know. All I can really recall is that several seconds later the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass snapped me out of my shock.

Looking around, I noticed that the Viper was sitting crookedly smack dab in the center of the intersection, not a scratch on it. I could hear Tommy breathing heavily, and I was almost positive my intakes of breath sounded the same. My heart threatened to pop right out of my chest from the pressure of it beating so rapidly. We both continued to just sit there, cognizant that we were alive and hadn't been hit, that this wasn't a dream.

I realized that for a brief second, I had actually wanted the other car to hit us. Maybe then I'd be knocked unconscious and I wouldn't have to worry about what was awaiting me at the hospital. Maybe then I could just escape from the facts, and reside blissfully in a world that consisted entirely of nothing--except possibly for some pain killers. However, I quickly dismissed that idea because it seemed kind of, oh, I don't know--suicidal, maybe?

I vaguely began to realize that Tommy had spoken to me when a car door slammed, and I suddenly noticed that I was now alone in the car. What the hell?

Seeing Tommy's outline darting across the road, I quickly released my seat belt and followed him. He seriously didn't expect me to just wait in the car, did he? Stepping onto the asphalt, I detected for the first time that I wasn't wearing any shoes. Of course--the ghastly things were back at the awards ceremony, sitting on the floor of the lobby unless somebody disturbed them. With my luck, though, they'd probably be for sale on eBay! tomorrow by one of the security guards or something. Good riddance.

As I hobbled across the rough surface of the road, I could see Tommy helping a man out of the driver's seat of the car. The only light was provided by the headlights on the cars--the Viper and the other guy's, whose right side was currently smushed against a tree.

A glare was in my eyes from the headlights--which were the brights--and I couldn't see the face of the driver of the other car yet. His dark outline showed that he was big but not huge, probably right around six feet tall if I had to guess. Drawing near enough to make out features, I surreptitiously observed the man. Wavy, sand-colored hair that was long enough to be stylish, but not long enough to be inconvenient. No gel.

Mentally I raised my eyebrows at myself for noticing the absence of gel. It wasn't like I was comparing this guy to Tommy, although it would have been quite easy to do since they were standing right next to each other.

Continuing my scan of the guy, I noted he had broad shoulders and lean hips--just like Linda Howard described the ideal male specimens in her books. I figured he was in his early twenties, maybe a couple of years younger than Tommy. He had nice features, although nothing that would make him CG's eye candy of the year. There wasn't enough light to see what color his eyes were, but all in all, the guy was nice to look at. Considering that we were in California, I had no doubt that this guy surfed on a regular basis, if his golden tan hadn't been a dead giveaway.

"Tommy?" I questioned as I walked forward into the grass, not realizing there was a slight drop in elevation because of a ditch. I stumbled forward, my weakened ankle most certainly not helping my balance and coordination.

Two pairs of hands reached forward and each caught an arm before I did a face plant, and I couldn't help but wish they would just lift me up onto their shoulders and carry me around like a queen, sort of like in Cameron Diaz's character's dancing dream in the first Charlie's Angels. I'm sure there are better examples of what I was thinking, but that was the first one to come to mind.

"I'm fine." I said before they could ask, and I instinctively knew that they both would. Finally steady on my own two feet, I turned to the mystery guy. "Are you okay, though, since, you know, you kind of just hit a tree?"

I took a small step back to survey the man, trying to spot any blood or bones sticking out. As my gaze reached his face, I noticed a stream of blood going down his face from a cut near his left temple.

"I'm okay, except for a couple of bruises." He answered, a slight smile on his face at the phrasing of my question. I couldn't help but notice that he had nice, white, straight teeth. Somebody must've paid the dentist a nice chunk of change, but from what I could see, it was absolutely worth every cent. That smile would make up for anything this guy might lack.

I shook my head, denying his answer. "You have a cut on your forehead; it looks deep."

The guy raised a hand to his head, interrupting the smooth trail of the blood. Bringing his hand back down, he looked at the dark red stain and frowned. "I guess I do."

Glancing around, I tried to find something I could give to the guy to put against the cut to temporarily stop the bleeding. Leaves, bark, grass, dirt...who was I kidding? We were in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't going to randomly find a sealed bag of gauze lying around on the ground anywhere, let alone some antiseptic ointment.

Struck with an idea--which could be considered a rare occurence by some--I deftly untied the silk scarf around my neck and folded it into the shape of a square. Bracing myself on my tip toes, I gently placed the cloth against the guy's wound then applied slight pressure. If it hurt, the guy didn't flinch. At least he wasn't a whiny wimp. Ha--whiny wimp. What's that called again? An alliteration? Yeah, I think that's it. Ha, Mrs. Thomas! I did learn something in English class.

Banishing my pointless thoughts, I suddenly found myself gazing into the eyes of this stranger--they looked like two sparkling jewels, two green sparkling jewels--emeralds. His eyes were beautiful, and as cliche as it sounds, I found myself mesmerized by them. They were a nice change from the usual blue I saw in the mirror every morning and when I looked at Tommy. Wait, I wasn't comparing the mystery guy and Tommy again, was I?

Speaking of whom, Tommy casually--or maybe in jealously?--cleared his throat and the "moment" between the stranger and me was lost. He placed his own hand against the silk cloth to hold it in place, and mine dropped back to my side.

"I hope your car wasn't expensive." Tommy commented as he took in the crumpled mess of what was supposed to be a vehicle.

Now the guy winced. "It was." He answered, his own face grim as he observed what was left of his car as well. Great, another car fanatic--why were hunks of metal and grease so fascinating to guys, anyway?

After a moment of silence--in respect of the car, no doubt--Tommy stuck out his hand. "Tom Quincy."

"Mitch Thorton." The guy--Mitch, apparently--replied with a nod as he shook Tommy's outstretched hand. He then turned and looked at me with an expectant look, and I belatedly realized that it was my turn to introduce myself.

"Jude Harrison." I supplied as his free hand enclosed my own in a warm, firm grip. They always say you can tell a lot about a person by how they greet you or, more specifically, by their handshake. All I knew was that Mitch's hand holding mine felt nice.

If Mitch recognized mine or Tommy's names, he didn't show it, which I was thankful for. Maybe this guy had class, too. I glanced back at his face and noticed that the blood from his cut had already seeped through the makeshift compress.

"I think you're going to need stitches." I advised as I gestured towards Mitch's head. "We're on our way to the hospital if you want a ride."

Before he could reply, Tommy interrupted with a bit of common sense. "Um, Jude, in case you forgot, my car only seats two." He proceeded to point at each of us as he counted of. "One, two, three. Three is greater than two. We can't fit."

I shrugged, not bothered by Tommy's reasoning because I was armed with my own. "I can just sit in the middle on the counsel. Problem solved."

Holding up a finger to Mitch to tell him we'd be right back, Tommy grabbed my wrist and dragged me several feet away from the wreckage of the car and Mitch's ears. Oh boy, this was going to be fun. Under other cirumstances, I might acutally enjoy being dragged into the dark woods with Tommy, all alone. But I had a feeling my expectations of a tryst in the forest were about to be let down. Oh well.