Tyson's first instinct was to rush over to Celia and drag her out of harm's way.
But Winona remained rooted to the spot.
She knew she should move, but the scene unfolding before her was a brutal echo of the accident she'd suffered two years ago. In an instant, her entire body locked up.
"Nona!" Tyson's panicked shout rang in her ears.
Then, in a heart-stopping flash, a figure lunged toward her. Someone grabbed Winona, pulling her into a tight embrace with an urgency that left her breathless. His arm locked around her, nearly crushing her against his chest, twisting her away and staggering them both back—just in time to dodge the oncoming semi-truck.
Screams erupted all around. The massive truck screeched and shuddered to a stop, stalling out just before it smashed into the hospital building.
The driver tumbled out, face blanched with terror, babbling apologies. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! My brakes failed—I didn't mean—I'm so sorry…"
But Winona barely registered his words. The old trauma surged up, drowning out everything else. The nightmare from years ago crashed over her, seizing her mind in a white-hot wave of pain.
Everything hurt…
Her legs were ruined. She would never dance again.
Mom, are you watching me from heaven? If you knew I'd lost my chance to dance forever, would you be disappointed?
"Miss Thorne? Miss Thorne?"
Someone was calling her name, voice anxious and close. Winona, pale as a ghost, finally lifted her eyes and realized the man still holding her was Elvis.
It was him…
Her mind was still foggy. She wanted to thank him, but her voice wouldn't come. Her lips trembled violently.
Elvis frowned, a rare uncertainty flickering in his usually calm eyes.
"Are you all right? Miss Thorne? Winona!"
"Nona!" Tyson rushed over then, panic etched on his face. "What's wrong? Don't scare me like that!"

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