Because that game has been working out for you so well recently.
I chuckled to myself. Some things were good to be delusional about. I was, if I could say so myself, handsome and in shape. Garrett had more women than I think he did bottles of water at the house, maybe even bottles of alcohol. I didn’t hurt as much from Tara as I thought I did, probably because Elizabeth had been something of a rebound.
You know damn well that’s not true. She’s more than that. She’s—
My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out, saw a number I didn’t recognize, and almost hit ignore. But with nothing else to do but head home and maybe take a nap, I decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Steele Harrison?”
I recognize that voice.
The hospital…
“Yes, is this the hospital?”
“Yes, Mr. Harrison, we’ve been trying to reach you since last night. Your mother suffered a massive heart attack at the hospital. I’m sorry. She did not make it.”
My mother…
Mom…
She’s gone…
She’s dead.
“My mother…died? Of a heart attack? Last night?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We tried calling you last night, but we were unable to reach you.”
I nearly broke the phone in my hand. My knuckles gripped it so tightly, I wanted to crush it. I wanted to crush every goddamn thing in sight.
Fucking. Sheriff. Davis. Was. Going. To. Fucking. Die!
I jumped on my bike. Fuck going home. I was only heading to one place. The goddamn police station.
I sped out of the repair shop lot so fast I had someone honk at me, but I didn’t even look at them, let alone flip the middle finger or act out otherwise. I sped through red lights, through stop signs, and swerved around other cars. I made it to the police station in a matter of just a couple of minutes, easily a record.
The only thing I made sure to slow down for was to make sure my bike would not topple over. As soon as the kickstand was down and I knew I wouldn’t come out to a busted bike, I stormed up the steps, slammed into the doorway with my shoulder, and looked around.
The only person visible was the dispatcher, Karen, who was sipping a cup of coffee.
“Hi, can I—”
“Davis!” I roared at the top of my lungs. “Where the fuck are you!”
“Sir—”
I ignored Karen, stormed past her, and kicked open Sheriff Davis’ door. The sheriff was leaning back in his chair, eating a sub, and looking at something on his computer. He turned to me, looking not the least bit worried about my presence.
I would make sure that changed really fucking fast.
“I guess you decided you’d rather be in a—”
“My mom fucking died last night in the hospital,” I growled. “You wouldn’t let me see her. Just like you wouldn’t let me see justice for fucking Stan and my father.”
The sheriff put the sub on the table, stood up, and glared at me, albeit behind his desk, like the fucking coward that he was.
