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“I could have lost you,” he finally croaks out. “Did you see that fucking truck?”
“Jennifer, she’s out there somewhere.”
He puts his hand on mine. “We’re going to find her.” His hand squeezes mine. “We are going to fucking find her.”
“When we find her, I’m going to marry her,” I tell him, and he looks at me. “I’m going to fucking marry her tonight if I can.” He doesn’t say anything to me. He just nods because the ambulance stops and the doors swing open.
The paramedic starts talking to the doctor about my blood pressure and all that. “I just need my leg checked,” I tell him, “and then I’m leaving.”
“Let’s get you checked out.” He looks at my father. “We need an X-ray.” They are wheeling me down the hallway, and I spot Waylon’s father going in and out of the rooms looking for his son, I’m assuming.
They take me down to X-ray, and it’s no surprise my leg is broken in two places. The doctor says something about surgery. I look up and see that over an hour has passed, and by the time they get someone in to stitch up the cut on my side and put the cast on, it feels like it’s been five days.
I’m sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for the nurse to cover the wound, when I look up and see my grandfather standing in the doorway. I sit up, and my father stands, coming over to my side of the bed. “What are you doing here?” I ask, but the look on his face should have been my first clue.
“Charlie,” he says my name, and his voice is hoarse.
“Did you find her?” I’m ready to jump off the bed. I grab my father and stand, ignoring the shooting pain from my foot. “Where is she?” I look over his shoulder to see if maybe they’re wheeling her in.
“We found her.” He comes in and stands in front of me. The relief that they found her is so overwhelming I feel like my chest is going to explode.
“Oh my God,” I say, smiling. “Where is she?” I’m ready to go to her.
“Charlie,” he says again, and his tone is flat. “I’m so sorry.” It’s then I know my life will never be the same. It’s then I know the pain I feel will stay with me forever. It’s then I know all of my dreams are being shattered. He says two words, and then the blackness gets me. “She’s gone.”
Chapter Four
Autumn
Eight years later.
I look at the computer screen in front of me, adding the numbers on the paper while grabbing my cup of steaming hot coffee beside the computer. When my phone rings next to the papers, I look down and see it’s my brother, Brady. A smile fills my face as I answer, “Good afternoon to you.” I look at the top of the computer screen to see it’s just a little past one in the afternoon.
“Hey,” Brady sighs. His tone is low, and I instantly know something is wrong. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?” I quickly answer him. “You sound like someone stole the lunch money you were saving up to buy naked magazines.” He chuckles at that, making me relax just a touch.
“I wish this was that kind of problem,” he says, and I gingerly put the coffee cup down.
“You’re scaring me,” I say softly, leaning back in the wooden desk chair that is as old as me, if not older. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at the hospital,” he replies, and my stomach immediately surges to my throat, “and it’s not good.”
The back of my neck tingles. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Dad,” he says, and every single cell in my body feels like it’s being drained, only to be refilled with ice-cold water.
“What happened?” I try not to get ahead of myself, but the tears come anyway.
“He didn’t want me to tell you.” Just that sentence alone should make me stop in my tracks. My father has been my rock for my whole life, or at least for as long as I could form memories. My mother passed away when I was a baby. She got sick one day and then found out she was terminal at the ripe age of twenty-nine. I have pictures of her holding me, forever frozen at that stage. He never moved on, never remarried. His life was my brother and me and, of course, the distillery my great-grandfather created. “We just met with the oncologist.”
“What?” I snap, and my hand hits the desk in front of me. “Oncologist,” I whisper as my head is spinning. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down because I would have fallen to the ground, but this time, I didn’t have my father to help me stand.
“It’s stage four, and they don’t give him much longer.” Brady’s voice cracks as the tears stream down my face. “You need to come home.”
“Of course,” I agree without a second thought. Forget the fact I haven’t been home in the past six years. Forget the fact I said I would never step foot in that town again. Forget the fact my life ended the day my best friend and boyfriend died because of me.
“He’s going to be pissed I told you,” Brady shares, and I can hear the anguish in his voice mixed with the sadness.
