Anniston’s voice was gruff, his gaze faraway as he seemed to revisit his past. “I don’t know what that little lady of yours found, but I barely had any scrapes. They kept me in the hospital just as a precaution.” He rubbed his jaw. “The other driver, now, she was hurt. I could hear her, calling out for help, but there wasn’t anything I could do.”His fingers dropped to the table. Drummed. Stilled. “I was a seventeen-year-old kid. She’d hit me. Came right out from nowhere. I was scared as shit. She was dying, begging for help, and I was pinned in the car. I wasn’t strong enough to get the metal off me, and I couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait for her to stop calling out to me.”His ragged breath filled the room.“When my eyes opened the next day, the first person I saw was a cop. He was there, telling me everything was gonna be all right.” His lips twisted. “He was a damn liar, of course, but he was trying to help me. I knew then I wanted to save people, too.
