When she didn’t answer, he said again, “Everly! I need you to talk to me. I need to hear that you’re all right.”
She made a sound that I couldn’t understand.
“Sydney,” he said, distraught, “are you okay?”
I swallowed air down my throat, trying to move the airbag out of my way to free myself. “I don’t know …” I couldn’t feel my body. When I rubbed my fingers together, they were all there. My toes wiggled. I could lift my legs. “I think so.”
“Everly,” Ford said, frantically trying to undo his seat belt to get to her. “Everly, baby girl, answer Daddy. Are you all right?”
Except he couldn’t get out. The car that had hit us had crushed half of his door and half of Everly’s—that whole side of the SUV jammed up.
I turned around and looked at Eve.
Her head was slumped forward.
Her hands li
