Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(42)

“Yeah,” I agree, laughing. “It sure is.”

Will continues, “Hell, Chase, I’m sure there are things you could be doing in Harmony Creek with Kay right now that are far more fun than hanging out with me.” Will waggles his eyebrows, like I don’t know what he means, and I shake my head and laugh.

Our entrees arrive, and we dig in like we haven’t eaten in days, putting an end to our convo for the time being.

When we’re almost finished with our meals, Will says slowly, “So, I was thinking…”

He trails off, and I prompt, “Yeah? What were you thinking?”

“Well…” He takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if it’d be okay if I fly out to Ohio to visit over Christmas break.”

“Shit.” I look over at my brother and smile. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

In the past, we’ve talked about Will visiting this coming winter. But for him to bring it up on his own means he really wants to do it.

We’ve finally reached a good place, a very good place.

The waitress arrives to clear the table then takes off after a minute, leaving the check. I pull out some money to pay.

“That was a good lunch,” I say as I toss some bills on the table.

“It was really good,” Will replies. “And the talk we had was even better.”

I look over at him and nod sincerely. “For sure.”

Out in the parking lot, after Will and I are buckled up in the rental car, I nod to the clock in the dash. “It’s almost one. I better drop you off and get my ass to the airport.”

“Guess so, Mr. Newlywed,” Will says, his voice full of mirth.

I call him a dick, but it’s all in good fun. In fact, both of us are laughing as I head to the shopping plaza exit.

The light at the intersection is green, so I hit the gas.

Something feels off, though. And a second later, I detect movement to my left.

Fuck. It’s too late to change what is about to happen.

In what feels like slow-motion, Will looks over and yells, “Chase, watch out!”

And at that exact second a car smashes into my side of the car.

The airbag deploys, and I’m jerked to the left, where my head slams into the side window.

And that is the exact point where everything fades to black.





Will



Chase cannot be hurt like this. No way. My brother is too strong, too tough, for things to end in this way.

But end, it may.

With the weight of that possibility laying heavy on my shoulders, I cry out, “No, no, no.” Staring over from the passenger seat, I can’t take my eyes off my brother.

I’ve never seen Chase so still, so un-full of life. He’s slumped over the steering wheel, with the deployed air bag lying crumpled and lifeless beneath his barely moving chest.

“At least he’s alive,” I mutter.

But how much longer does he have? How seriously is he hurt?

I know I need to check, but I can’t move. Not at first. I guess I’m in a state of shock or something. So, for another full minute, I continue to stare at my injured and unconscious brother.

Chase is facing in my direction and he looks kind of peaceful. His eyes are closed, no pale blues staring back at me like they should be.

And that is f*cked up.

Finally, I get it together and spring into action. Pushing my own deployed air bag out of the way, I reach for Chase, just as a trickle of bright red blood trails down from his forehead.

“Chase.” My voice sounds scratchy and rough, and when I’m tugged back by the seatbelt that probably saved my life, I let out a litany of curse words that would probably shock even my brother. That is, if he were conscious.

I’m thankful my life was spared by the seatbelt, but nothing is going to keep me from my brother. Needless to say, I unsnap that motherf*cking piece of material and fling it out of the way.

Finally free, I lean over and touch Chase. My first action is to wipe away the blood from his forehead.

But more begins to flow. Like a faucet that’s been turned on, blood, bright and red, keeps coming and coming.

“What the f*ck,” I grind out, my heart racing, my level of concern soaring. I am out of my league on what to do to help Chase and it’s killing me.

Quickly, I shrug out of my plaid cotton button-down, leaving me in just a white T-shirt. I fold the plaid fabric over once, twice. It’s soft and feels like it might be nice and absorbent.

Placing the shirt to Chase’s head wound, I try to stem the blood.

Talking to Chase seems like it may be a good idea. Haven’t I seen that in movies?

“You must have hit the side window,” I tell my still-unconscious brother. “I don’t know how that happened since you had your seatbelt on. But, who knows?” I pause. “Oh, Chase…”

The silence as I trail off becomes deafening. I gotta keep talking now. So, I continue, “Help is on the way, bro. Hold tight. You have a lot to live for. Don’t you dare give up now, okay?”

I hear sirens in the distance, their plaintive wails growing louder and louder. Someone must have called an ambulance, the police, whomever. Thank God. Crazy thing is I personally don’t need any help. Physically, I’m more or less fine. A little shaken up, yes, but that’s it.