Page 11 of Wish You Were Mine

“Yes,” he panted, his face white.

I sighed as I skimmed my hands up his sides, cataloging any damage. “I’m really sorry, but Susan is gone. It was too late to save her.”

His entire body stiffened. “No. She can’t be.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“No.” He knocked my hands aside and tried to push me, but then wheezed and curled in on himself. “You can save her. Even when people are dead, you can bring them back. Do CPR. Use the electric paddle things. Do fucking something!”

“She’s past that.” God, I wished I didn’t have to do this.

“Save her,” he growled, struggling to get to his feet.

When I tried to stop him, he kicked me—thankfully not hard enough to do any damage. He didn’t stop there though. He threw a punch at Darcy, catching him off guard, and a spray of scarlet erupted from his nose. Then the guy tried to lunge past Liam to get to his wife.

“Maia!” I shouted. “I could use some help!”

Between the four of us, we managed to pin him down.

“You’re going to injure yourself,” I told him, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

He was hurting, and he’d lost someone he’d clearly loved—while he’d been driving. I doubted his brain was even able to process everything yet. He was acting purely on instinct.

Maia appeared in front of me, her dark ponytail swinging as she tapped a syringe and carefully inserted it into the man’s thigh.

A moment later, the fight drained out of him, but guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I’m sorry. It’s for the best.

5

SUMMER

Warm air greeted me as I pushed open the door to Drunken Destiny and stepped inside. My eyes immediately went to the table where Asher sat with his colleagues, but I forced myself to focus on the bar instead. Bailey was working tonight, and we’d agreed to meet since it was usually one of her quieter midweek shifts.

She was busy serving drinks, so I scanned the patrons, noting the usual locals, tourists, and then in the corner nearest the bar were the guys from the fire station. Asher, Liam, Darcy, Igor, and Zane. Asher’s partner, Maia, was nowhere to be seen, but she’d probably opted to go home to her husband and daughter rather than join the men.

Liam glanced over, and I lifted my hand to acknowledge him. He tipped his head, but I couldn’t help noticing that there was no spark in his eyes. They looked dull. He must have had a tough call today.

I made my way to the bar, where Bailey had finished serving a cluster of twenty-something backpackers—more than one of whom couldn’t take their eyes off her.

“How’s your night?” I asked, sitting my bum on a bar stool. She poured me a glass of the house white wine and passed it to me. “Thanks.”

“It’s been steady, but the mood isn’t great,” she said. “How was work?”

“Good. I de-balled a couple of farm dogs, delivered a litter of kittens, and treated Mrs. Hawkins’s bichon again.”

She laughed. “What was it this time?”

“Supposedly, a rash, but I couldn’t see anything. I gave her a steroid that should help if there’s really anything there.”

“Poor Dolores,” Bailey said.

I chuckled. “Doomed from birth.”

Mrs. Hawkins was not only a hypochondriac, but also obsessed with Harry Potter. She’d named her beloved pet after the evil Dolores Umbridge.

“I recorded another gymnastics tutorial today,” Bailey said, changing the subject. “I’m surprised by how popular those are, but as long as they keep getting views, I’ll keep posting them.”

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