Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)(16)

“Hello.”

“Emma Jane?”

“Yes?”

“Hey, it’s Jesse, Brett’s girlfriend.”

I release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “Shit! I mean… Hey, Jesse.”

“Bad time?”

“No, not at all. I was just getting out of the shower. What’s up?”

“Well, I just got off the phone with my new friend Eli Tanner, and he said he is going to have Sarah call you in about an hour.”

“What?!” I scream.

“She’s still at the hospital, but as a favor to Brett—”

I can hear Brett bitching behind her. “No, I had nothing to do with this shit. Damn it, Jess.” I can almost picture him pinching his nose and pacing.

“Jeez. Okay, fine,” she says, answering his complaining. “As a favor to me, Eli volunteered to head up there at lunch and pass her his cell phone.”

“Seriously? Oh my God! That is fantastic news!” I shout as she begins to giggle on the other end of the line. “Jesse! I love you!”

“No you don’t, but you are still very welcome.” She continues to laugh.

“So one-ish my time?”

“Yep. Just keep an eye on your phone.”

“Thank you so much. I… Damn. Jesse, I really appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem, Emma. She needs you right now.”

“Thank you.” I hang up with a renewed hope.





A FEW hours of staring at my phone later, it finally rings.

“Sarah?” I quickly answer.

“Hey,” her broken voice comes across the line. It’s so dull and flat I barely even recognize it.

“Are you okay?”

“Well, that depends on your definition of okay. I’m handcuffed to a hospital bed, waiting to be sent to the psych ward, while talking on the phone of a man who hates me to a sister I haven’t spoken to in years. Does that sound okay to you?” She goes from sad to bitchy with just one sentence.

“Jesus, Sarah. Don’t be like that. Can we just have a conversation, please?”

“I’m sorry, I…” She trails off and starts to cry—something else I’m not used to with Sarah. Before the accident, she was always so strong, but now she just sounds lost. “Did Brett tell you he moved on? He found a little brunette and basically tossed me in the trash.”

“Sarah, that’s not what happened and you know it. You’ve been trying to get rid of him for years. Don’t you think it’s about time Brett moved on with his life? Hell, don’t you think it’s time you moved on with yours?”

“Probably,” she answers but gives no further explanation.

“Hey, guess what? I’m moving to Chicago!” I try to move the conversation to a happier note, but Sarah brings it right back down again.

“Why?” she asks rudely.

“Because I like the pizza?” I answer sarcastically. “Why do you think?”

“Oh God, you’re going to try to fix me, aren’t you?” she says with an annoyed groan.

“No, there’s nothing to fix. You need a lot of help, but as far as I can tell, there is nothing broken about you.”

She barks out a laugh. “Did Brett tell you I tried to shoot him the other day? I’m probably going to jail.”

“Maybe,” I answer nonchalantly even though the very idea scares the shit out of me.

“Maybe? That’s all you have to say about me trying to kill my husband then rotting in jail?”

“What do you want me to say? You want me to yell and scream? Tell you what a horrible person you are? Tell you you’re a crazy-ass bitch?”

“Yes!” she screams into the phone so loud it hurts my ear.

“Well screw you, sis. It’s not happening. I think you have serious issues that you have never taken care of, and while I’m not going to fix you, I sure as hell am going to make sure you fix yourself.”

“I’ve done some really f*cked-up shit, Emma. I think I’m damaged beyond repair,” she whispers between choking sobs.

“When the hell did you become a quitter?” I ask in all seriousness.

“The night I killed my best friend.” And with that, I hear the call end.

“Damn it!” I scream, throwing my phone onto my bed.

I flop down next to it, getting more and more pissed off at this entire situation. Damn it, when did I become a quitter? I snatch up my phone and call back the number.

A man’s voice answers. “Tanner.”

“Take her back the phone,” I demand.

“Look, she’s pretty upset. I shouldn’t even have given her the phone to begin with. As soon as she gets—”

“Eli! Take her the God damn phone!” I shriek into his ear.

“Christ, you really are related.”

“Yep, now take her back the phone.” I return to my casually sweet tone.

He doesn’t say another word, but I can tell he’s walking.

“Sarah, it’s for you.”

“I’m done talking,” she says, once again sounding defeated.

Eli picks the phone back up. “She doesn’t want to talk.”