Page 80 of Beat of Love
“Yeah. Yeah,” he repeated when the first one seemed so damned shaky.
“Well.” She sighed. “All right then. Go relax with your dad for a while. I’ll clean up.” Ma took hold of his shoulders and propelled him toward the door.
“Okay,” he mumbled.
But rather than joining his father, he moved through the mudroom, shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed a jacket, and walked out the door.
The nearby windmill groaned and gave a rhythmicclunk, clunk. Inhaling, he filled his lungs with frigid air heavy with the promise of frost.
He wished he had Brandy-Lyn’s number —why the fuck did he not have her number?— so he could settle his mind. Instead, he waited in the shadows of the trees, watching for the glimmer of headlights, indicating her safe return.
But the road leading to her cabin stayed dark.
His unease grew. And fuck, his head ached.
How long he stayed there, he couldn’t say for sure.
And when his cellphone buzzed, and Preston’s name showed, his stomach knotted.
“Preston?”
“It’s Mimi.” Her voice was barely audible over the ruckus of background noise and, fuck,sirens.
And he knew.
Just fuckingknew.
Her next words were jumbled, but he caught the gist.
Brandy-Lyn and her kids had had a car accident.
“Where are you?” He was already on the move, sprinting to the carport.
“About a mile after Main Street turnoff. They’re … taking Mom to the hospital.”
“Pres and Livvie okay? You?”
“Yeah. We’re fine. But Mom … She’s bleeding. And … unconscious,” she whimpered.
Fuck.Fuck.
“Do you have a lift to the hospital?” He reached the carport and jumped into the first vehicle — Mammy’s Jeep.
“Um … Deputy Cruz’s taking us. I … I’m scared, Raff.”
He pressed the start button, thankful for Mammy’s habit of leaving the key fob in her vehicle. “Just hang in. Leaving the ranch now.”
“Okay. And … thanks, Raff.”
He backed out and skidded away. He shut his mind to “what if’s” and “should have’s”, concentrating on driving. The last thing he needed was to end up in hospital, too. Hands glued to the steering wheel, he emptied his mind and concentrated on the road ahead.
His heart lurched when he noticed the flashing emergency lights, and he slowed as the Jeep’s headlamps lit the accident scene, Kings Auto in the process of hauling the battered Yukon onto the flatbed trailer. Nausea welled up, but he swallowed the bile down.
Brandy-Lynhadto be okay. He wouldn’t accept another outcome.
Right. Like that worked for you before.
As he entered the emergency department, the sharp scent of bleach halted him in his tracks, tumbling him back to the last time he set foot in a hospital — the day he gave permission for the machines keeping his wife alive to be switched off.
