Chapter Nineteen

Bella

"She hit her head extremely hard. I didn't know what else to do except pull her down, but I did it too roughly."

I heard the velvety voice first as consciousness returned slowly.

"Better a little bump on the head than being crushed," another, much less velvety voice said. "We'll get her to the ER and have her checked out. You too, son."

"No, I'm all right. My father can look at me later. I'm just worried about her."

"Huh?" I mumbled, trying to lift my heavy eyelids.

I could make out a light above me, what looked like medical supplies beside me, and then, finally, Adonis.

"What the . . .?" I tried to lift my head, finding myself pinned to some sort of board with a collar around my neck.

"Don't move, Bella," Adonis' velvety voice said, smiling in relief. "I'm so glad you're awake."

"Bella, we're heading to the hospital," the not velvety voice said before his face appeared above me. Ah, a paramedic. "You took quite the hit, so no moving, all right?" he asked.

"Wh-what happened?"

"We were about crushed by a van," Edward said. "I pulled you down in time for us to be underneath it, but it was close. You hit your head awfully hard, though."

The paramedic said something which I couldn't quite make out—you know, fuzzy head and all—and then Adonis was gone from my view and we started moving.

Adonis saved my life.

Adonis tackled me.

Adonis stopped a van.

"As flattered as I am by the nickname, I must correct you on the stopping a van part." Edward chuckled.

Shit, did I say that out loud?

"Oh . . . yeah, that makes more sense."

It did, but it wasn't how I remembered it. I think. I was pretty sure I saw his hand against the van. Maybe. Did I?

"How hard did I hit my head?"

"Pretty hard," the paramedic said. "You've got a lovely gash to boot."

Ah, so that was why I passed out. And suddenly felt fuzzy again.

Shit.

"Bella?"

. . . . .

"Bella?" a voice asked as an annoying light was shined in my eyes. "Bella, can you hear me?"

"I can't see you, but I can hear you," I mumbled, swatting at the blinding light.

The warm—but not velvety—voice chuckled as the light was turned off. I blinked a few times and blond hair came into view, then a chiseled jaw, golden eyes, and a soft smile.

Carlisle.

He seemed pleased with himself as the collar around my neck was pulled off. "Your spine is fine, so this can come off," he said. "Your head, on the other hand, I'm still concerned about, so we're taking you for a CT scan shortly. Do you think you can answer some questions for me?"

I nodded, tilting my neck to each side. "Uh-huh."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," I said, glancing around the room as he raised the bed. "Charlie!"

"Hey, Bells," Charlie said, quickly taking a few steps toward me from the corner of the room. "God, you scared the hell out of me."

He took my hand and I squeezed it, feeling a little comfort wash over me, knowing he was here. "I'm okay," I said.

"Probably," Carlisle corrected. "What's your birthday?"

"September thirteenth," I said. "And my name is Isabella Swan. I'm sixteen and I live in Forks, Washington. Oh, and I was about crushed by a van."

"Well, those were my questions." Carlisle chuckled. "You probably just have a concussion, but we're still doing a CT to be safe."

"What about the cut?" Charlie asked, and I remembered the scent of blood once again, making me queasy.

"No passing out again," Carlisle said with a soft smirk, laying the back of his cool hand against my cheek. "I've cleaned up the blood, but you do need some sutures to close the laceration."

"Edward . . ." I breathed slowly, trying to get the nausea to pass. "Tackled me."

"Saved your life," Charlie said. "But, I guess you hit a rock or something. Carlisle, your boy . . ." he shook his head, "I owe him my gratitude. One hell of a kid you've got there—braver than most. Maybe a little stupidly brave, but still."

"He's a bit foolish, I suppose." Carlisle chuckled. "He's very lucky you both weren't killed."

"I wasn't paying attention," I said. "I am so sorry for risking his life."

I still couldn't remember exactly what happened—aside from the whole, impossible part—but Edward risked his life to save me. I couldn't understand how he'd gotten to me so quickly, but that was nothing compared to what I'd imagined he'd done.

Did he stop the van?

And where the hell was he?

"Don't you dare apologize," Charlie said. "That kid was goin' God knows how fast in an icy lot. It's his fault, not yours."

"Da—Charlie, it was an accident," I said, catching myself as the word dad almost left my lips.

How hard did I hit my head?

Charlie's brow was cocked, his mouth slightly opened as he stared at me for a moment, surely realizing what I'd about said.

"Well, uh . . . it, uh . . . maybe, but it could have been prevented," he said. "Um . . . that scan, Carlisle?"

Carlisle nodded. "Yes, let me go check where we are on that. I'll give you two a minute."

He left the small room quickly, leaving us in an awkward silence. My head still pounded and I left like throwing up—but for a different reason. Was he upset over my slip up?

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't . . . sleepless, you know? Plus a head wound."

"Oh, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, sitting down on the stool beside me. "It's all right. That word, I mean. If you . . . you don't . . . have to, but . . . it's okay."

My eyes met his and he looked as awkward as I felt, but also kind of . . . disappointed—maybe.

"Okay," I said, trying to smile some. "Someday, yeah?"

He nodded, his mustache twitching with his own little smile. "Someday," he agreed. "I won't hold you to it. We can, you know, blame it on the head trauma."

I shrugged, feeling an unexpected ache in my body. "We'll see. Um . . . are you sure the van didn't hit me?"

"What? Why?"

"Maybe it's the tackle kicking in. Just . . . achy."

His brow furrowed in concern as someone knocked on the door. When it opened, I was surprised to see Adonis—Edward, damn fuzzy brain—walking in.

"Hi," he said softly.

"I'll go talk to Carlisle," Charlie said, strafing up. "See about pain meds and that scan."

"They're taking her in a minute," Edward said, smiling softly. "I overheard."

Charlie nodded. "Good, so I'll be right back. Thank you, Edward—for saving her." He held his hand out for Edward's shaking it firmly.

"I didn't even think about it," he said.

Charlie left, closing the door behind him as Edward hovered near the end of the gurney. The awkward silences were getting a little old, so I broke the ice.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yes, fine. Carlisle said there isn't a scratch or bruise on me. I was lucky."

"Yeah," I snorted. "Apparently I wasn't so lucky."

"I'm sorry about your head." He grimaced. "I guess I don't know my own strength sometimes."

"Really? I think you might wanna check that out because . . . your hand was on that van. I think."

"You hit your head very hard."

"I think I remember what I saw."

"Me stopping a van?" He chuckled, walking around and sitting down. "That seems a little far-fetched, wouldn't you say?"

I creased my brow, eyeing him closely. "Maybe, but I'm pretty sure. Not to mention you weren't following me, and yet you caught up to me extremely quickly. Strong and fast."

He opened his mouth to speak, but another knock interrupted him. He looked relieved when his dad came in, followed by another, and announced it was time for my CT scan. I was not as amused, to say the least.

I don't own Twilight.