Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Jenna is screaming.

  The front end of the SUV slams into the snowbank, and our airbags immediately go off.

  I don’t lose consciousness. I push the bag out of my way.

  “Jenna! Baby, are you okay?”

  No answer. She’s leaning back, blood coming from somewhere on her head, and she’s unconscious.

  Christ, what if I’ve killed her?

  I check her pulse. It’s strong and fast in her neck, and I send a prayer of thanks as I dial 911.

  “What is your emergency?”

  “Car accident,” I say immediately, shocked at how confident my voice sounds. “I’m okay, but my girlfriend is unconscious.”

  “Where are you?”

  I relay the information the best I can, frustrated that I don’t know the name of the road we’re on. But the dispatcher seems to know and assures me that an ambulance will be here in less than ten minutes.

  “The faster, the better.”

  I hang up and jump out of the car, then hurry to the other side where Jenna is and jerk the door open to better see if she has other injuries.

  “Christian?” she asks, her voice thin.

  “Yes, baby, I’m here.”

  “Did we hit the elk?”

  “No, we hit a snowbank.” I swallow hard and kiss her cheek. “The ambulance is on the way.”

  “I don’t feel so good,” she says and reaches up to touch her head. “Bleeding.”

  “You have a small cut on your head.” I swallow again, not sure if that was my first lie to her or not. I can’t see the cut, but I can see the damn blood. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”

  Sirens finally fill the air. They’re still a ways away, but they’re getting closer.

  “I don’t think so,” she says with a frown. “I’m sleepy.”

  “Don’t go back to sleep. The EMTs are going to need to ask you questions.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Jenna, baby, do not go to sleep. Look at me.”

  She complies, and I see that her eyes are both dilated. I’m not a doctor. I don’t even play one on TV. But even I know that isn’t a good sign.

  Finally, the ambulance and a fire truck pull up behind my vehicle, and the EMTs come out.

  “Thank God, she’s over here,” I call out.

  “Is she conscious?” one of them asks.

  “She is now, but she says she’s tired.”

  “I’m Sam, and we’re going to take care of your girl,” he assures me, then looks into the car. “Hey, Jenna.”

  He sticks his head out of the vehicle and yells over my shoulder. “This is Jenna Hull, guys. Call the chief!”

  “Don’t freak Brad out, I’m fine,” I hear her say, but Sam shakes his head.

  “No can do, pretty girl. Your brother would kill me if I didn’t let him know that you’re hurt. Besides, he probably already heard about the call.”

  Another man appears with a gurney. They pull Jenna out of the car, secure her neck with a brace, and strap her onto the stretcher.

  “Come on, sir,” Sam says, waving at me. “You can ride with us.”

  “Wild horses and all the paparazzi in the world couldn’t keep me away,” I mutter as I retrieve Jenna’s bag and slam the SUV door closed. I climb into the back of the ambulance and take Jenna’s hand. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi,” she says, watching me with scared, blue eyes. “Have I mentioned that I don’t like being tied down? I have some claustrophobia issues.”

  “Can you untie her?”

  “I can untie her arms, sure, but her neck has to stay stabilized until a doctor can examine her and make sure she doesn’t have a broken neck.”

  “I don’t,” Jenna says.

  “Sorry, Jen, but here…you can move your arms around.”

  He unfastens her arms, and she sighs. “That’s a little better.”

  The ride to the hospital takes less than ten minutes. Once we’re there, they rush her back into a room and let me follow. I stand back while the staff does their thing, talking loudly, moving her to a bed, starting an IV, and asking her a ton of questions.

  Her eyes seem heavy, but she keeps looking for me. I smile reassuringly, but all the while, my stomach is in knots, and pure adrenaline runs through me.

  I want to punch someone as hard as I can.

  She could have died on that mountain, and it would have been my fucking fault.

  Soon after we arrive, they wheel Jenna out for a CT scan of her head and neck, and I’m left in the room alone.

  Until Brad and Max walk in.

  “Jesus,” I mutter and push my hands through my hair. “I’m glad to see you guys. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking scared.”

  “Is she okay?” Max asks.

  “They took her back for a CT scan,” I reply. “That airbag hit her hard. I would be surprised if she doesn’t have a concussion, but I’m not a doctor.”

  “What happened?” Brad asks. His face is taut with worry, his voice is hard.

  “Fucking elk ran out in front of us coming down the mountain.”

  “Thank God you went into the ditch and not down the dropoff,” Max says, rubbing his forehead.

  “We hit ice and spun out. Hit the ditch and the snowbank.”

  “Could have been much worse,” Brad says, agreeing with Max. “That mountain road can be a bitch in the winter.”

  Finally, Jenna is wheeled back in, looking tired but still awake.

  “Oh, good,” she says. “My three favorite guys are here. You can tell them,” she says to the doctor.

  “Jenna has a concussion,” he says. “But no broken bones. She’ll be sore and maybe a little black and blue.”

  The doctor glances at me, and his eyes narrow. “You were the driver?”

  I take Jenna’s hand in mine and nod.

  “Have you been checked out?” he asks.

  “I’m fine,” I insist. “We need to take care of Jenna.”

  “You need to get checked, too, Christian,” Jenna says and squeezes my hand. “I’ll be okay. I have two brothers here to watch over things.”

  “Come with me,” the doctor says, but I hang back with uncertainty.

  “We’ll come get you if anything happens,” Brad assures me. “But she’s fine.”

  I nod. “Thanks, man. I’ll be right back.”

  I’m led to a small room not far from Jenna’s.

  “Put this gown on—”

  “Fuck that. Just look me over, take my blood pressure, and let me get back to Jenna.”

  The doctor scowls. “Just because you’re famous—”

  “Oh, for godsake, I don’t give a shit about my job. I need to get back to my girl. I don’t have any pain.”

  “Yet,” he says but starts looking me over, poking and prodding. He takes my temperature and checks my blood pressure. “That’s up a bit, but I’d expect that after the trauma. I don’t see anything concerning but listen to your body over the next couple of days and take it easy.”

  I nod and stand. “Thanks. Can I please go back now?”

  “I don’t think I could stop you.”

  I hurry back and stop at the doorway, taking in the scene before me.

  Max is sitting next to Jenna, holding her hand and making her smile. Brad is standing on the other side of her, talking on the phone.

  “She’s going to be okay,” he says. “They’ll spring her out of here soon. I’m sure Christian will stay with her.”

  “Damn right, he will.”

  All three pairs of eyes turn to me. Jenna’s light up in happiness, and she holds out her free hand for me. Brad steps out into the hall to finish his call, and I take her hand, kiss it, and then sit on the bed near her hip.

  “How do you feel, fancy face?”

  “Like my face isn’t so fancy,” she replies.

  “It’s not,” Max says, making her giggle.

  “Don’t make me laugh, idiot. It hurts.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “You know I hav
e a bad sense of humor when I’m scared.”

  “You’re not scared of anything,” she says. She pulls her hand out of his and cups his cheek. “You’re the fiercest person I know.”

  “No,” he replies, kissing her hand. “That’s you.”

  Brad returns. “Hannah’s in the middle of delivering a baby so she can’t come see you herself, but she said she’d look in on you later.”

  “She’s sweet,” Jenna replies. “But I swear I’m okay. Do I get to sleep?”

  “It says here,” I reply as I’m reading the material the doctor gave me, “that you can sleep, but I have to wake you every couple of hours.”

  “Lovely,” she says.

  “Glad it’s not me,” Brad says with a laugh. “She’s a bear when you wake her up.”

  “I’m not afraid of bears,” I reply.

  “You should be.”

  * * *

  It’s a couple of hours later by the time Max delivers us to Jenna’s house in town. He hurries in ahead of us and flips on the lights and turns on the gas fireplace.

  I carry Jenna in my arms into the house. She’s curled against my chest, her head tucked under my chin.

  “Do you want to snuggle up on the couch?” I ask her.

  “I think I need a shower,” she says, her voice still quiet. “And then bed.”

  “Do you need me for anything else?” Max asks.

  “Right now, no, but we’ll need her car brought down at some point. Could you help with that?”

  “Sure thing, I’ll have Brad help me with that first thing in the morning.” He brushes her hair off of her cheek and leans in to press a kiss there. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Max,” she says.

  He nods and leaves, and I carry my girl to her master suite and set her gently on the edge of her bed.

  “Can you sit here while I get the shower ready?”

  “I think so.”

  She looks so small and fragile, and I feel like absolute shit. It’s because of me that she’s hurting.

  I’d gladly change places with her if I could. I hate that this happened.

  I get the hot water going and set out a fresh towel and washcloth. When I come back to the bedroom, she’s struggling to get her shirt off, then stops in frustration.

  “This is ridiculous,” she mutters. “How does taking off my shirt make me so tired?”

  “Your brain is hurt, honey,” I remind her and get to work gently removing her clothes. My breath hisses between my teeth when I see the bruises on her chest from the seatbelt. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  “It looks worse than it feels.”

  I cup her chin in my hand and make her look me in the eye. They look more normal now, but she’s not out of the woods.

  “Jenna, I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “I’m fine,” she replies. “Or I will be in just a couple of days. Honest. It was an accident.”

  I feel helpless and like an ass on top of it, but I gather her in my arms again and walk into the steaming bathroom.

  “Oh, this feels good,” she says softly. I set her on her feet and wait until she gets her balance. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not going in there alone,” I say. “I don’t need you to fall.”

  “Probably a good idea, but there will be no post-accident sex today. Sorry, movie star.”

  “Very funny.”

  She stands fairly still as I lather up the cloth and gingerly run it over her skin, cleaning her.

  “I don’t need to wash my hair,” she says. Her teeth are starting to chatter, so I rinse her off and leave the hot water running as I reach for a towel and lead her out onto the mat.

  “Don’t you want to turn that off?”

  “No, it’s keeping the room warmer,” I reply as I quickly dry us both and then gather her back into my arms and return to the bedroom. “Where are your comfy clothes?”

  “That dresser,” she says, pointing. “Middle drawer.”

  “Got it.” I find a cozy sweatshirt and matching sweatpants along with some panties and quickly get her dressed. “This will warm you up.”

  “I don’t know why I’m cold.”

  “The adrenaline is wearing off,” I reply. It’s starting to wear off in me, too, but I don’t have time to shake or fall apart.

  I have to take care of her, and if I can just focus on that, I’ll be fine.

  “I don’t have comfies for you,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll be fine. The blankets are heavy.” I rush into the bathroom and turn off the water, then return to Jenna and peel the covers back to get her settled in the bed. She sighs happily. “Do you want tea?”

  “I want sleep. And you.”

  I hurry under the covers, feeling cold myself, and she immediately wraps her arm around my waist and lays her head on my chest. I bury my nose in her hair and take a deep breath.

  “Could have lost you today,” I whisper, every word tearing through me.

  “Don’t talk like that,” she says and kisses my chest. “I’m okay.”

  But it’s true. I could have lost her today, and I don’t know what I would do if that were to ever happen.

  I couldn’t have lived with myself.

  She’s everything fresh and wonderful in my life.

  * * *

  “You’re awake,” I say, my voice quiet as I walk into the bedroom carrying a tray with hot tea and some crackers. “I don’t have to wake you up.”

  “I missed you,” she admits with a sleepy smile and sits up in the bed. She holds her forehead with her fingertips. “Ugh, the headache is the worst part.”

  “It’s time for more meds,” I reply as I set the tray on the bedside table and reach for the pills the emergency room sent home with us.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Rather not what, take the pills?”

  She nods.

  “Well, this is non-negotiable, fancy face. You need them to help you feel better. It’s only for a couple of days.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” she says, making me laugh.

  “No, I doubt many are. But I’m putting my foot down on this one. We need you to heal, and resting comfortably is the only thing that will make that happen.”

  She frowns, but she doesn’t say no when I offer her the medicine.

  “Good girl.”

  “I don’t usually like to be taken care of,” she informs me.

  “I know.”

  “But, thank you. It’s comforting to have you here. My brothers would hover annoyingly. And my mom is great, but she’s not nearly as nice to snuggle with as you are.”

  I crawl onto the bed and pass her a mug of coffee. This one says, I asked for pizza, not your opinion.

  Her mugs crack me the fuck up.

  “Are your parents in Arizona now?”

  “Yeah.” She takes a sip and then looks up at me in surprise. “This doesn’t taste like shit.”

  “Well, halleluiah.”

  “Thanks.” She takes another sip. “My parents are snowbirds. They head down right after Thanksgiving and then come back for Memorial Day.”

  “So I just missed them, then.”

  “You did. Brad will call and tell them what happened, and then I’ll have to convince them not to come home just for this.”

  “They love you.”

  “Yeah. And they worry. Dad was a cop for a lot of years, so he’s protective. And Mom is, well, a mom.”

  “I’m not close to my family,” I reply, surprised to be talking about it. I never do. I’ve grown so used to not talking about myself over the years, I don’t think about it.

  But I enjoy sharing with Jenna.

  “How come?”

  “Oh, a million reasons. My dad’s an alcoholic, and he’s not a nice drunk. My mom left him when I was a kid when she moved us to L.A.”

  “So that’s how that happened.”

  “Yeah. She was obsessed with making me a child actor.” />
  “It worked.”

  “And she was the clichéd momager.”

  “Was she as bad as Lindsay Lohan’s mom?”

  “Oh, yeah. Just as bad. And she took a lot of my money, as well. Said she was just paying herself, but that’s not what it was. She was stealing what I earned.”

  “Ugh, that fucking sucks.” She takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She still lives in L.A., last I heard. She has a nice house and all of the things she always wanted. She just doesn’t have me.”

  “Do you make sure she has those things?”

  I frown. “You see too much.”

  “I’m learning you,” she agrees. “You love her, and I could see you making sure she’s okay, even if you don’t want to see her. Is Nina close to her?”

  “Not super close, but she sees her once in a while.”

  She nods and yawns, then nibbles on a cracker. “I’m getting sleepy again.”

  “Eat your cracker, and then you can sleep.”

  She does as I say, which is a testament to how out of it she is. I hate that the fight has gone out of her today.

  I set our mugs aside, and we snuggle down into the covers again, falling asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jenna

  “I’m booooooored,” I say and throw my head back on the couch about as dramatically as I possibly can.

  “It’s only been three days,” Christian replies, his hands on his hips as he stares down at me in frustration. Not that he’s said he’s frustrated, but let’s be honest, I’d be frustrated with me.

  “Can’t we just go up and get you some new clothes from the tree house? I need to look in on them. Max is not good at this stuff, and I have guests.”

  “I’m not driving you on that road again,” he says, shaking his head. “No way, no how.”

  “It’s settled, then.” I stand and lean in to kiss his arm as I walk by. “I’ll drive.”

  “Jenna,” he says with a sigh, pushing his hand through his hair, which is definitely his signature I’m-gonna-spank-you move.

  “Christian, I have to go back up there. My business is up there. And you have to go up there because you have ski lessons and all of your things are there.”

  “I’ve cancelled the rest of the lessons,” he replies, and my jaw drops. “I need to be available to you.”