Page 70 of Hook Up

Grasping his hand, I give it a reassuring squeeze. “It was an accident, Greg. Accidents happen.”

“The tire was loose.”

I nod, uncertain where he’s headed. “Like I said, accidents happen.”

“I was in charge of tightening the tires. I thought I got it on there, but the second the car hit the pavement, I knew something was off.”

My heart skips a beat at his words. “Wait a minute, you knew before he drove off?”

Greg shakes his head, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. “By the time I realized, he was gone. Before I could utter a word, he was hit.”

“It’s still an accident. You never meant for this to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s blind, and it’s all my fault. Do you think a simple apology is going to fix this situation? It won’t. Once he learns the truth, Ryder will hate me, and he has every right.”

Kneeling by Greg’s chair, I clasp his hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Ryder will never hate you. He trusts you. That’s why he hired you.”

Greg wrenches his hands from my grip, pushing himself to a standing position. “He almost died because of me. His racing career is likely over because of me. Trust me, Gigi, I’m no good to anyone.”

My brother storms out the door, but I’m too exhausted to follow. Besides, it’s fairly obvious Greg is in a self-destructive mode, blaming himself for Ryder’s current predicament. His next stop? Likely the nearest pub, where he can drown his sorrows. After Dad left, that became his coping mechanism, his escape from reality.

The only saving grace is his drinking never interfered with his work, but it’s still spiraling out of control. Once Ryder is on his way to recovery, I’ll chat with Greg about reining in his habit and finding one a little less lethal to the body and soul.

Trudging back to the ICU, I check on Ryder. He’s sleeping. Good. He’ll need every ounce of strength. I collapse into a waiting room chair with a blanket offered by one of the nurses. Ryder’s mother is asleep a few chairs down, her gentle snores echoing the exhaustion of the last twelve hours.

My eyes drift closed, but I can’t relax enough to rest. Instead, Ryder’s accident plays over and over in my head, the fear constricting my throat when I saw that mangled pile of metal and carbon fiber. I never want to experience that feeling again.

Even if Ryder never regains his sight, at least he’s alive.

The idea of that man—that cocky, self-assured, gorgeous man—not on this planet is more than I can bear. Every fear I discussed with Ryder on our vacation screeches to the forefront of my brain, and I can’t help but wonder if I somehow breathed it into creation by uttering my fears aloud.

Shaking off the notion and chalking it up to lack of sleep, I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hello?”

“Greer? This is Colton. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye earlier.”

“I understand. He’s sleeping now.”

“He needs the rest.” Colton clears his throat, and a sense of foreboding drifts over me. “Look, I hate to lay this on you, considering the day we’ve all had, but I think you should know before the media gets hold of it.”

Rubbing a hand over my brow, I wonder if he’s going to mention my spur-of-the-moment nuptials. Bad timing, certainly, but the last thing Ryder needs on top of everything else is bad press. “You mean our marriage?”

“No,” Colton scoffs, “although he knocked my ass sideways with that one. It’s about the accident. It’s standard to run a toxicology screen on the driver and pit crew after something of this magnitude occurs.”

“Ryder was on something?”

“Not Ryder, but certain members of the pit crew tested positive for cocaine and alcohol. It’s a hard and fast rule you don’t imbibe before a race. That’s just common sense, but a few members of the crew opted to toss that rule out the window, and here we are.”

“Which members?” I barely manage the question as the blood pounds in my ears and my anger careens into the red.

The people hired to keep Ryder safe were working under the effects of drugs and alcohol. They held his life in their hands and didn’t respect it enough to be sober.

“I can’t disclose their identities yet, since there are legalities involved. But I wanted you to be prepared for the fallout when Ryder finds out. This is going to devastate him.”

“Which is why you can’t tell him,” I argue, pacing lines into the waiting room carpet. “Colton, he does need to know, but not now. This news will only increase his stress level and impede healing. I’m begging you, don’t tell him yet.”

“Greer, the media is going to have a field day with this story. There’s no way he won’t find out.”

“I can monitor what information he receives. I want him to have the truth, but not until he’s stabilized. Please, can you hold them off for a few days?”

---