Page 70 of The Finding Series: Vol. 2

“Beck, I just need to understand what happened-”

“No!”

His efforts to escape me were nearly inconsequential and I was reminded how much stronger and bigger I was than him, even though he wasn’t a small man by any means. There just seemed to be no strength in him. Lots of fight, but not the physical prowess to back it up.

“Was I too rough?” I asked. “Or was it the other guy-”

“It wasn’t supposed to feel good!” Beck cut in, his voice cracking in anguish.

“What?” I asked stupidly. I was so unprepared for his response that I loosened my hold on him and he took advantage and pulled free of my hands. He was past me like a shot and I had to run to catch up with him. I managed to reach him as he was pulling his car door open and I was stunned to see tears sliding down his face.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted as I tried to stop him from getting in the car, but he tore free of my grip. “Beck, wait, you’re too upset to drive,” I said, but he yanked the door shut as the engine of the small sedan roared to life. The car lurched backwards briefly and then forward and I barely managed to step back as the rear tires spun on the gravel. My heart caught in my throat as the car picked up speed as it headed down the driveway and I felt my gut clench as it fishtailed violently.

“Slow down,” I said to myself even as I watched the car speed up even more. And then everything did slow down as I watched in disbelief as Beck lost control of the car and it swerved to the left. I could only watch helplessly as it struck a large tree head-on and then I was running.

“Beck!” I screamed as panic tore through me. It felt like it took me hours to reach the car which had smoke coming out of the engine, but I knew it only took seconds. I tore at the driver’s side door when I reached the sedan and swallowed hard at the sight of the deployed airbag. Beck was leaning back against the seat, a large gash on his forehead where it looked like he’d hit the window.

“Beck,” I said as I carefully put my hands around his neck to keep him from moving his head. Dismay tore through me when I realized he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt.

“Quinn?” Beck whispered, his voice heavy with confusion. I watched his eyes slowly open.

“Don’t move, okay?” I said desperately as I held his neck steady with one hand while I searched out my phone with the other. I dialed 911 and gave the information to the operator before hanging up. “Tell me where it hurts, Beck,” I said softly.

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “My head I guess.”

“Just stay real still. Help’s coming.”

A few tears slipped down Beck’s face and I flinched when they collected against my hand where I was still supporting his neck. “You’re going to be okay,” I murmured.

“Tell them I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I froze at the odd statement. “Tell who?” I finally managed to ask.

“My fathers…please, I promised them I wouldn’t try again…it was an accident, Quinn, I swear it. Please make sure they know that.”

His panic was starting to build and I gently rubbed my thumb back and forth over the pulse point in his neck in the hopes I could calm him down. “You’re going to be okay, Beck. I’ll tell them, but you’ll be able to tell them yourself.”

“It was an accident…” he said as a sob tore free from his throat.

“I know it was,” I said reassuringly, though in truth, I was completely clueless as to what the hell was going on. I watched as Beck’s eyes drifted shut and the sheer panic of what that might mean had me saying, “Did you like my horse?”

I had to repeat the question before Beck’s eyes opened again. “Your horse?” he asked, confused.

“The black and white Paint,” I clarified.

“Paint?” he asked tiredly.

I chuckled and said, “Sorry, forgot I was talking to a genuine city slicker.” I was glad when a tiny smile flitted across Beck’s mouth. “He’s an American Paint Horse. A Paint is a breed of horse that usually has pinto coloring.”

“Only pinto I’ve ever seen is the kind with four wheels.”

I laughed. “I have a lot to teach you, I guess.”

Beck’s green eyes shifted to mine and I realized how my words must have sounded. I saw a flash of emotion go through his gaze before he lowered his lids. “What’s your horse’s name?”

“Koda,” I said. “It’s short for Dakota, which means friend.”

“Is that what he is?” Beck asked.

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