I eased back onto the road, driving slower this time, as if that’d make my fears unfounded. Around the next bend, the road was blocked by the squad car that’d passed me. Too close.
I jumped out of the car as I threw the gear shift into park, racing to the point on the road just past the cop, the spot marked by a blinking green light on my phone and a plume of smoke and steam before my eyes.
“Sir, you need to return to your car,” the cop instructed me.
“Please, I think that’s my friend,” I pleaded, holding out my phone as though that’d explain everything. I strained to see the car overturned against a tree. Jet black, just like Patrick’s.Of course it’s just like his, because itishis.“Please, you have to help him.”
“You need to let us do our jobs. We can’t help the driver of the car if we’re worrying about you,” the cop told me, ushering me away from the scene.
Two fire trucks came blaring around the bend and eased past the police car barricading the road. The firefighters jumped out of the truck, calmly issuing commands, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The world seemed be narrowing around me, everything left in a foggy haze.
“Sir, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” I snapped, trying once again to shove past the cop. They weren’t working fast enough. I needed to get down there and make sure Patrick was okay. The officer was surprisingly strong given the fact that I had at least five inches on him. Or maybe I was going into shock and that’s why I didn’t break away from him pushing me back with one hand against my chest. “Patrick’s the one who needs you right now, not me. Why aren’t they helping him?”
“Sir, I promise they’re doing everything they can to get him out of the car.” He pulled out a notepad and glanced over his shoulder. “While we let them do their thing, I’d like to ask you a few questions. It’ll save time once they get your friend out and on his way to the hospital.”
I clung to those words like a toddler and his teddy bear. Maybe the officer was placating me, trying to defuse the situation the only way he knew how, but I had to believe they’d be able to get Patrick out of that mangled car and into the ambulance.
He’d be okay.
He had to be.
Tanner and Angie needed him. And I needed him to recover from this so I could kick his ass for scaring us. For what seemed like the next lifetime, I answered questions about how I knew Patrick would be here, why we’d been trying to track him down, whether he was on any illegal substances, and whatever else the cop could think of to ask me. My phone kept ringing incessantly in my pocket, but I ignored it, not wanting to talk to Angie before I had any answers. I couldn’t tell her that I’d found Patrick but still had no proof whether he was dead or alive. She’d understand me waiting until I knew more.
“He’s lucky,” the officer stated as one of the paramedics rushed to the ambulance, returning with a backboard. I could see everyone crowded around the side of the car, working to get Patrick free of the twisted metal. “It’s a shame to see such a beautiful car destroyed, but you can’t deny the strength of American steel.”
“You know, how about we not talk about luck when they’re trying to save his life,” I shot back.
I’d obviously been spending too much time with Nixon, because the man who was cool under pressure had officially left the building, and I was entertaining thoughts of strangling this poor cop who was only trying to keep me calm while they worked on my friend.
“You don’t know a damn thing about him. If you did, you’d know luck is something he’s had a pretty bad run of.”
“I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words,” he apologized. “I was only trying to say the outcome could’ve been much different if he was in one of them newer cars that practically crumbles on impact.”
That brought my thoughts back to a dark place I hadn’t wanted to consider: Was this an accident, or had Patrick planned all of this? Was yesterday his way of saying goodbye?
19
Nixon
I’d beenon edge all day. Lincoln and I had fallen into a pattern where we talked every morning when he was out of town, but so far there’d been nothing but silence and the sound of his outgoing voice mail message every time I’d tried calling him. I’d wound up shoving my phone in the top drawer of my desk because the guys who were committed enough to show up for workouts this week deserved my undivided attention.
As it turned out, that just meant I wore tracks in the floor from walking back to the office every chance I got to see if there was a text message or missed call from him. I tried convincing myself it meant nothing when I was met with a blank screen, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end telling me otherwise.
This wasn’t normal for Linc. I was the one more likely to blow him off; he was the one who never wavered in his commitment to show me these long-distance periods were nothing more than an inconvenience.
By mid-afternoon, I was left with nothing but an empty training room and my racing thoughts. I picked up the phone again, tapping out a quick message.
Hope everything’s okay. You’re starting to worry me. Please, just let me know you’re okay.
God, I felt like a needy shit. He had a life before me, and there was no good reason for him to try and put me ahead of his own family. I’d promised him I didn’t need that. Didn’t want it. If we had any hope of working, it needed to be because we found a way for me to fit into his life, not replace it. I’d grown so accustomed to the silence today that I jumped when my phone almost immediately started ringing.
“Holy shit, he lives,” I answered. There was a hitch in Lincoln’s breathing, something like a sob, and he didn’t immediately respond. “Babe, are you okay? Did something happen to Hunter?”
“Not Hunter,” he said quietly, not offering anything beyond the assurance his son was fine.
I strode across the office and kicked my office door closed. Every nerve ending in my body came to life as I waited for Linc to clarify his statement. “What’s going on?”
