Chapter Four
Nell was about ready to eat her own arm. Seriously. She didn’t get the kiss or the pie. And she’d hit the ground three times in one very long day. An ironic twist on third time’s the charm. Third time’s the harm? She winced at the cliché, and from the sting of alcohol as the EMT re-cleaned the “blood” on her arm, then gave the same painful attention to her knees.
At the apex of the confusion, Alex presided over a scene filled with flashing lights, yellow crime tape, the neighbors, random ghouls, and one or two press types. He hadn’t answered her question—which she couldn’t believe she’d asked—but she’d sensed a yes, a little mouth-to-mouth incoming. Instead she got a crime scene she couldn’t pedal away from. And some more bruises. She shouldn’t have changed into the shorts a
