Lawless Read Free Page A

like I’m looking for answers but I don’t find any. Nothing that makes the memories make sense. “Was… was Lawson Daniel there?”
    “Honey,” my mom says softly, sitting on the side of my bed, “he saved you.”
    It comes flooding back. The arm across my chest. The hand holding mine. Green eyes and golden skin.
    “He pulled me out of the water,” I mutter to myself.
    “He did more than that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Her face clouds, her relief fading into dismay. “The bite was high up on your leg. On your thigh. It nicked an artery. You were bleeding so fast. When he got you to shore he cut the cord on his surfboard. The one that attaches to his ankle?”
    “The leash.”
    “That’s it. He cut that and tied someone’s shirt to your thigh to apply pressure. The nurses said you could have bled out before help got there if he hadn’t done it. They airlifted you out because of that cut.”
    I swallow thickly. “And the bite? How bad is it?”
    “It’s not pretty,” she answers frankly, her face firmly serious. “They said you have chaffing on your lower leg where your skin hit the shark’s scales the wrong way. You have a lot of puncture wounds up and down your leg. Some are pretty deep. Those are where he grabbed you to pull you under. But you’re lucky. They think it was just curious, that it wasn’t looking for something to eat. The doctors said judging by the size of the bite and what Lawson told them, it was a baby.”
    “A juvenile,” Dad corrects groggily from my right.
    I can’t help but grin, glancing over at him. “Morning, Dad.”
    His blue eyes are open and on me, gauging me. Watching the way he always does. “Hey, kiddo. How do you feel?”
    “Surprisingly good,” I reply, stunned to find out that it’s true.
    I still have my leg and my life. The shark didn’t take a bite out of my body. He didn’t come at my arms or my hands, meaning I can still play piano. I can still go to the NEC.
    Or can I?
    “Oh, shit,” I mutter, throwing my hands over my face. “I missed my flight to Boston.”
    “That’s the last thing you need to be worried about right now,” Mom scolds.
    I drop my hands heavily. “But all that money. I told you guys not to get the travel insurance. Insurance that I’m sure would have covered shark attacks.”
    “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.”
    “Why would you need insurance?” I ask, regurgitating my own words in an oafish voice. “Nothing could keep me off that plane. It’s a waste of money.”
    “You didn’t know. How could anyone know this would happen? And besides, you don’t need to worry about that. You need to worry about getting better.”
    “I am better. I feel fine.” I look down at my leg, noticing the thickness of my right thigh under the blanket. The bulge of the bandages wrapped around it. “Why am I fine?”
    “What do you mean?” Dad asks, sitting up and turning off the TV.
    “I should be sad, shouldn’t I? Or freaked out? Why aren’t I freaked out?”
    “Because you’re high.”
    “I’m what?”
    He points to the IV by the bed. The long, clear tube leading into my arm. “Liquid euphoria. You’re so hopped up on painkillers right now we could tell you that your dog died in a fire and you’d laugh in our faces.”
    I scowl at him. “I don’t have a dog.”
    “Are you sure?”
    Mom swats him on the arm. “Stop messing with her. She’s been through enough.”
    “The good news is that she survived it.” Dad looks at me seriously, his expression softening. “That’s why you’re fine, Rachel. Because you’re alive. We’re all fine, better than fine, because you’re alive. Your leg will heal. You’ll go on with your life because you still have one. Because you’re still here.”
    He points at me with his thick, calloused fingers. The ones that will always be blackened by motor oil and hard work. That used to try to braid my hair when my mom was away and that smoothed pink bandages on my elbows when I fell off