Page 81 of Let Me Show You

“Can you take Owen home with you and watch him till I get back?” I rush over to them, then hand Belinda the box of sweets. “So sorry to spur this on you, but I’ll be right back. It’s really important.”

“Everything okay?” Belinda asks.

I force a smile. “Yeah. It will be once I figure something out.”

I kiss Owen’s head and tell him to be a good boy. Jerry nods and reassures it’s no problem. They’re confused as hell, but I can’t say anything until I know what’s going on. It might just be a coincidence, but I doubt it. Brittany’s given me a weird-ass vibe since the way she acted at the retirement party. She’s militantly tried to get Noah’s attention, which makes this even more suspicious.

As soon as I’m in my car, I gun it and drive to the interstate. I call Noah, and after five rings, it goes to voicemail.

“Ugh, c’mon. Pick up,” I beg, hitting his number again.

Voicemail again.

I text him.

Katie

Call me ASAP. It’s urgent!!!

No response.

My heart races so hard, I can barely breathe.

It’s already getting dark, and I don’t know exactly where she said she was, so he could be anywhere.

As I continue driving, I keep calling, but after a while, it goes directly to voicemail without ringing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I take the exit ramp that leads to the country road before Mobile. Slowing down, I do my best to scan the area in the dark. When I come close to an intersection and see two pairs of headlights in a ditch, my heart sinks. There aren’t any ambulances or police cars, which means it might’ve just happened.

“Noah…” I let out a strained whisper.

As soon as I park on the gravel, I pocket my phone and run over.

One truck is facing the wrong direction and has been hit on the driver’s side. From what I can make out, it’s blue like Noah’s. The closer I get, I know it’s his. I continue stumbling forward, trying to gain control as my adrenaline rushes.

“Noah!” I scream, smacking the front fender. The door’s dented and won’t open. The glass is smashed in, so I can hardly see inside.

I rush over to the passenger’s side, and after a few attempts, get the door open. The airbag’s deflated, and I notice he’s limp against the seat.

“Noah, baby…do you hear me?” I take his hand and shake him, noticing the blood trailing down his face.

He lets out a low groan, and I exhale a breath of relief that he’s still alive.

“Stay with me. I’m calling 911.”

As soon as the dispatcher answers, I explain the situation and beg them to come as soon as possible. Noah’s breaths are short and staggered, and I’m worried he has a concussion or his lung collapsed.

“They’re on their way, ma’am,” she reassures me.

“I think his legs are stuck. The whole door is bent in,” I tell her.

“Keep him talkin’ and see if he can open his eyes.”.

“I’m gonna set the phone down for a second so I can get closer,” I tell her.

“Noah, can you hear me?”