Page 61 of Smitten with the Single Dad

Wyatt’s heart officially ripped in two.

“No, sweet boy, you didn’t,” she said softly, cradling him against her. Wyatt could hear her kissing Griffon’s head.

“Jake, you okay?” Wyatt asked.

“Yeah,” Jake whispered.

No, he wasn’t.

None of them were.

This was so fucked up, even though he was trying his best not to let the fury take over, all Wyatt wanted to do was run home, unlock his sniper rifle from its case, and go hunting. Someone shot at them. Shot at his children, and they didn’t deserve to live to see the sunrise.

It was less than five minutes before his brothers arrived. Dom made Jagger stay with Silas, and Brooke stayed with Talia, Emme, and Aya. So it was Dom, Clint, Justine, and Bennett who all came. A moment later, the police arrived,and Wyatt could see Vica tense up in his side mirror.

“It’s Myla and Everett,” Justine said, as she offered him a small smile from the passenger door. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know, this is exactly the way I wanted to spend my wedding night.”

She chuckled. “Well, at least your sense of humor is still intact.”

“I called Shawn,” Myla said, joining Justine. “He’s on his way with his tow truck.”

“I’d like to get out of here before that,” Wyatt said.

“Yeah, we’ve got the boys coming with the firetruck too,” Myla added. “Just need to sit a little longer.”

Jake and Griffon were already out of the truck and with Vica somewhere. “How are the boys?” he asked Justine.

“Grayson is checking them out now. But I’m here to put this C-collar on you for now. Okay?” Justine climbed into the truck and onto the passenger seat, leaning over and wrapping a protective collar around his neck in the event he had a spinal injury. It didn’t feel like he did, but they were just playing it safe. He understood, but he didn’t like it.

It had to be terrifying for the boys, knowing their father was still in the truck, pinned inside. Even though Wyatt was alive, the fact that Sheila had died in a motor vehicle accident and now Wyatt was stuck inside the truck after an accident, had to be fucking with his kids big time. All he wanted to do was go to them. To take them in his arms and show them that he was okay.

The sounds of the fire engine pulling up echoed around them and the flashing red and white lights reflected in the side and rearview mirrors.

“Jesus Christ,” came the familiar, deep baritone of Hawke Taylor, one of the local volunteer firefighters. He also ran a hostel and campsite on the west side of the island. “What the fuck happened here?”

“Are those bullet holes?” That had to be Ansel Gregor, another volunteer firefighter. He worked as a fishing guide, and also ran Zodiac Whale Watching Tours.

“Pretty fucked up, right?” said Clint. “And judging by the tire marks on the road, and in the gravel and dirt here, this was all premeditated. Someone deliberately rammed into them and drove them off the road. See how the gravel is all spewed across the asphalt? That doesn’t happen in an accident. Not to mention that when Vica got out, they started shooting at her.”

Leave it to Clint, the mystery buff, to start looking for clues and going all Sherlock Holmes on the situation.

“No fucking way,” Ansel said. “Who the fuck would do that?”

“I have a few wild guesses,” Wyatt said to Justine, who met him with a very serious gaze.

“This is getting scary,” she said, doing a few tests on him. She made him track her finger, then she took his pulse, his blood pressure, and finally, reached down into the footwell and touched his ankles. “Can you feel this?”

“Yes,” he said.

She sat back up. “Good. We’ll get you to the hospital for an x-ray though, just to be sure.”

“Shawn’s here,” someone announced.

“Thank fuck,” Wyatt said. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

“I know. The boys are doing great though. They’re both sitting on Vica’s lap and … they’re okay, Wyatt.” She rested her hand on his shoulder gently. “You’re all okay.”

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