Page 2 of Stay With Me
“You fucker! That’s cheatin’!”
Then I hear wheels squealing as if he’s driving on pavement and my heart drops to the bottom of my stomach.
“Try and beat me!” He antagonizes with a loudyee-haw.
I know there’s nothing I can say to get him to turn around at this point, and the only thing I can do is try to get to him before he crashes.
“Billy, no speedin’. I’m already on my way. Just turn around.Please, man.” I’m not above begging at this point.
“Don’t think so, bro. Prepare to lose yourmon-aye!” He drawls out the last word with a laugh.
Before I can continue to reason with him, he hangs up the phone.
Goddammit.
I slam my foot down on the gas, hoping I can find him before he gets too far. It’s a ten-minute drive to Miller’s, but I need to somehow make it there in five.
As I keep an eye out for his truck, I call his phone, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I do it again, and the same thing happens.
All the blood rushes to my ears. I tell myself his phone justdied, that he’s probably been on it all night. Too anxious to wait, I call Miller and am relieved when he answers.
“What’s up, Hollis?”
“Billy’s behind the wheel, and I’m on the way to your house now. I want you to keep an eye out for him in case he drives back. He needs his keys taken away.”
“Ugh, what the fuck? He’s wasted.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Hence my panic.”
“I’ll go outside now and look out for him.” I hear ruffling in the background as if he’s getting his shoes on.
“Great. I’ll let ya know if I find him.”
Once we hang up, I continue driving, confused as hell when I don’t come across any vehicles by the time I get to Miller’s. He’s standing on his porch with a few others when I approach.
“Did he show up?” I take the steps two at a time.
“No. You didn’t see him on your way here?”
I lift my cap and brush a hand through my hair, worried about where the hell he is. “Either he got lost or went the wrong way. I’m gonna keep lookin’ for him.” I backtrack down the steps.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, and we both hop in my truck. Considering how drunk Billy is, it’s possible he didn’t even go in the right direction.
We stay silent as I drive, turning in the opposite direction of my house. Miller tries calling him a few more times with no response.
“Maybe he pulled over and is sleepin’ it off…” Miller suggests, but it does nothing to settle the uneasiness taking over.
Flashes of Billy and me over the years surface. Memories of us causing trouble and messing around on the ranch have my chest tightening in fear. The thought of something happening to Billy has my palms sweating against the steering wheel.
“Over there…” Miller points ahead to headlights beaming on the other side of the road, and I lower my window.
“Shit. Is he in the ditch?” I squint through the pitch black, but there’s a faint scent of smoke in the air.
“Holy fuck, his truck’s flipped over!” Miller’s gruff voice is filled with panic.
As soon as I shift into park, we jump out and run over.
