Page 41 of Returning Your Love
My ears rang, causing his voice to muffle as he continued.
“Wh-what?” My mouth sputtered an attempt to ask for clarity.
“Shelly… Accident… Berlin hospital.”
Those four words broke through, assuring I hadn’t misheard. My chest went tight, and I struggled to breathe. “You’re not k-kidding? I mean, you’re sure it’s Shelly?”
“Yeah, Chaz,” Sutton assured me, his tone full of empathy. “She’s in critical condition and en route to the hospital.”
Fucking hell.
I stared unseeing across my office, my mind starting to race, my body cold.
“Want me to come pick you up in the cruiser?”
“N-No.” Fuck. Talk about a dropped wrench in my life I didnotneed. We had no health insurance for hospital bills—I would lose the goddamned shop.
How bad are her injuries?
I finally wondered what I should have the second Chief broke the news, and humiliation kicked me in the guts for that not being the first question out of my mouth.
“She gonna be okay?” I finally asked.
“I don’t know, Chaz, but it’s not looking good. You need to get down there, but drive safely. You have any trouble, pull over and call me.”
I forced air into my restricted lungs, trying to get a handle on myself. “Yeah—yeah, I will.”
“Want me to get in touch with Jamie? Let him know what happened?”
Jamie.
Sunday.
“Please,” I whispered, my throat tightening at the sudden overwhelming need for him rushing through me.
“Drive careful, Chaz. Call me if you need assistance.” Sensitivity bled through Sutton’s voice, making my eyes sting with tears. Or maybe it was my desperation for his son’s arms causing the emotion.
“Will do,” I croaked out before hanging up and staring at the black, antique phone.
Thoughts rushed through my brain, but I focused on the most important. Why hadn’t worry over my wife been my first reaction? Any loving partner would have been torn up inside and desperate for answers about their well-being. Humiliation worse than any I’d experienced before slammed into me, causing me to curl in on myself. My office chair squeaked in protest beneath me as I rocked forward, elbows on knees and head in my shaking hands.
What the fuck kind of husband was I?
An unfaithful, piece of shit one.
I moaned, running my fingers through my hair and tugging harshly. “Jesus fuckingChrist!” I swallowed hard against the rasp in my voice and hopped up from my chair, needing to move—be proactive—anything other than do nothing like I suddenly felt guilty of since spring.
It took around two minutes for me to shut the shop down and hop in my truck, my legs weak and hands trembling along with my chin. I struggled to set my cell in its holder, but when I finally managed to do so, the screen came to life as my thumb brushed over it.
Shelly had texted an hour earlier.
Breath once more stuttering out, I picked my cell back up and clicked on the message icon.
Her typed words made my stomach turn, and I scrambled back out of the truck to heave up my dinner all over the paved lot.
Chapter 15
Jamie
