Every December [Soon to be Self Published]

Chapter 3

Austin

The blast of light illuminating the trees forces me to squint. The vehicle peeling out from under me. My body launching across the ground--head hitting at an odd angle, fingers fumbling at the helmet...Reaching out for someone's hand...her hand. There had been a woman. Wait. An ambulance. Pushing my eyelids open feels like lifting bags of bricks. 

The room comes into view. A hospital. 

That's right. Doctors and nurses. Lucky to be alive. My head throbs. The doctor's voice comes in and out. A mild concussion. Your helmet took the brunt of the accident. More like my brain to plowing into my skull.

The rest of my body miraculously wasn't affected. A few bruised ribs...Must have been a long night's sleep. No way am I staying another minute. 

This is one of those times I use my celebrity pull. Within two hours, I get myself discharged from this place. The doctors want me to stay, but between my doctor being a big fan and Kayla, I managed to get released after twenty-four hours of observation. Sometimes it pays to have a publicist and Amazon. Otherwise, I would be leaving in the clothes they cut off my body.

My Uber arrives at a special back entrance to the hospital, the one that will protect me from what I understand to be a crowd of reporters out front. I check for paparazzi as the nurse wheels me out. Not that I need a wheelchair, hospital policy and all.

"Take care, Mr. Hutton," the nurse says as I get inside the car.

Even the small act of putting on my seat belt hurts. I wince and click it into place at the same time my phone rings.

"Kayla," I say firmly. My publicist already worked up since I haven't given her a statement. According to her, the whole country is suddenly interested in why I didn't show up to one lousy gala.

I didn't even know if I was going to attend. There I was, dressed in my tux needing freedom and open air. The snowmobile had meant to be a quickie thrill before driving to the event. I wasn't planning on nearly dying.

"Tell me you're leaving the hospital," Kayla says, concerned.

"About to get in the car now."

"People are thinking the worst, Austin. They think you're dead."

"Clearly, I'm not." My gaze jumps to the driver looking over his shoulder. "1411 Avery Way."

He nods, confirming the location and gets moving as Kayla continues. "The world wants to see that you're okay. One press conference. That's all." Anxious silence follows. "Smile for them. Talk about your injuries. Leave out the part about riding the snowmobile. You were supposed to be in a car on the way to the ceremony."

"No way."  I speak harshly, but with an aching jaw from where I had landed, face-first on the ground. "I'm disappearing until the new year. This changes nothing."

"Can you give me a statement before you do that?"

"That's your job." I close my eyes, knowing the thirty-minute drive home will go by in long minutes. I'm feeling lightheaded and warm and that sore throat I felt on the plane ride over has me annoyed that I'm getting sick.

"I could do that."

"But what, Kayla?" I snap.

"There's other rumors too. The kind involving Brielle and Hartley."

And there's that. Thanks Brielle. Thank you, Hartley. "Don't respond to any of it. I don't care if you tell people I'm alive or dead, just handle this."

"I'm handling it by insisting you do this. Your accident is also carrying with it some accusations."

"Like what?" I bark.