My throat felt dry as sandpaper. “How… how did I get here?”
She hesitated for a second before answering. “Someone pulled you out of the wreck before the car caught fire. If they hadn’t, the firefighters said it might have been too late.”
Later that same afternoon, a local reporter arrived with a camera crew and a smile that suggested he already knew the story everyone wanted to hear.
“You’re very lucky,” he said as he adjusted his microphone. “It turns out the person who pulled you from your car might be Daniel Cross, the professional athlete who was driving behind you. He’d just come from a charity event nearby.”
Even through the haze of pain medication, the name was instantly recognizable. Daniel Cross was one of the most famous athletes in the country—championship titles, endorsement deals, millions of fans. The idea that someone like him had stopped on a dark highway to rescue a stranger felt almost unreal.
The reporter leaned forward eagerly.
“What would you like to say to him?”
