Page 84 of I'll Be There
Conner knew what came next. And he wouldn’t let Justin do it—couldn’t bear it, really. Not after the grief, the questions—thepromises.And not since, right now, Conner also not only stood perfectly inside Blankenship’s line of vision…
But Blankenship also stood in his.
Blankenship aimed his weapon toward Justin.
Conner dropped to one knee and let the old instincts drive him, the ones that he’d honed from years of backing up Micah.
He squeezed off the shot, watched it hit, center body, then pulled another, a tap to Blankenship’s head that made Conner flinch.
So maybe he hadn’t done that for a long, very long time.
But he didn’t spare a moment, just scrambled back to his feet.
Justin already had Micah in the back seat. Slammed the door. Stared for a second as Conner dashed to the car.
“I’ll drive.”
“Get in.” Conner dove into the driver’s seat. The engine hummed and he slammed it into gear, punched it.
“I hate how you drive.”
“Shut up. Just—shut up!”
Conner hit the road, his head still scrabbling to catch up.What the—“I don’t understand.”
“Which part?” Justin braced his hand on the roof.
He glanced over at Justin.Justin.The man wore a pair of cargo shorts, a Life is Good T-shirt.
“You were there. Today. With Liza.”
Justin’s mouth tightened around the edges.
“What are you doing here?”
“Drive faster.” Justin glanced at Micah. “Stay with us, pal.”
Conner caught Micah’s clenched, pale expression in the mirror.
Sirens met him as he crested the hill into town. He screeched through the turn, floored it up to the hospital. His eyes widened just for a second at the sight of Liza standing under the lighted alcove of the ER. As if she might be waiting for him.
He screeched up, this becoming too eerily common for his heart, and Justin was out, yelling, before he could put the car into park.
Darek and Jed carried Micah in, and Pete stopped Conner from barreling into the ER with two hands to his shoulders.
Pete’s expression, not as desperate as it had been. “Let them work. Reuben is okay. They were able to stop the bleeding. Only nicked his lung—”
Conner leaned over, gripped his knees, breathing hard.
“What happened?” Pete asked.
But he had no words over the roar in his head. Just straightened and headed for the man standing a little away, down the hall, his Life is Good shirt bloody, wearing cargo shorts, a ball cap, and a vacationer’s beard, like he might be a tourist, here for the sights.
Justin turned, as if catching Conner’s intention a moment before Conner’s fist landed in his face. The impact exploded pain through his already injured bones. But he didn’t care that it made him want to swear. That his bones shook with a fury he couldn’t place. Or that he just wanted to stand over his brother and keep pummeling him.
Or maybe just slump into a ball, his arms over his head, to keep himself from coming apart.
The blow had spun Justin around, tripped him onto his knees. Now, on all fours he looked up at Conner, an expression Conner couldn’t place.
