Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(2)
“The bottoms are a damn bad place to wreck,” Logan sighs as he navigates the sharp turns and blind spots of the Montgomery County roads that surround Laurel Springs. We’re both natives who’ve lived here our entire lives, and we respect the fact that sometimes these asphalt snakes bite.
“It’s always been an accident waiting to happen; no one pays attention to what they’re doing. That one curve has such a blind spot, even if you are paying attention, you can’t control what the person coming from the other direction is doing. One little turn of a wheel, one second you take your eyes off the road, and you’re done. There’s no room for mistakes there, no matter how small. Maybe this will make the county pay to have it fixed.”
Every time we respond to a wreck at what’s becoming something of a landmark around the county, it’s my hope they realize how dangerous it is. But three fatals in the past three years, maybe a fourth today, and they still haven’t done shit about it. My adrenaline ramps up as I see blue lights flashing in the distance. I’m checking the number on the patrol car, but this is one I don’t recognize.
There are two trucks sitting on opposite sides of the road from one another, facing opposite directions – neither one baring the markings of either the city or county police department. “I thought they said it was an officer?” Already I’ve got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The premonition you have when you’re about to get bad news. No one can ever put their finger on how they know, why they get it, or even what it’s trying to tell you. Bottom line is it’s bad.
“Me too.” Logan grabs his go bag as I grab mine, and we get out of the ambulance just as the fire truck comes to a stop beside us. It’s in our best interest to let the fire guys do what they need to do in order to save the person in the wreckage. As soon as we’re given the okay, we’ll move in.
Taking in the scene before me, I recognize a member of the Moonshine Task Force. Ace is something of an adrenaline junkie, and we’ve bonded over the fact that both of us have jumped out of planes willingly in our lifetimes. I jog over to him, my bag bouncing against my leg. “I thought it was an officer.” The words barely make it past my throat. The feeling I had earlier is coming back with a vengeance, making me dizzy and my ears start to ring.
His gaze refuses to meet mine as his eyes dart back and forth, focusing on any point other than my face. Finally he sighs. “It is,” he nods to the truck on the other side of the road. “Tank,” his voice is clipped, like he can’t bear to say more words than he has to. That alone indicates how much he’s affected by seeing the smoking wreckage. “He was off today.”
There’s a ringing in my ears as I hear his name. The fear makes me drop to my knees in the middle of the road. As I make contact with the asphalt, the thud of my bones is loud, but nothing like the pounding of the blood through my veins. My heart is scary fast as I try to inhale a full breath of air. If anyone knows what injuries someone could have, it’s me. Now I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my life.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I do my best to keep my shit together. There’s no way that’s Trevor in there, no way he was enjoying a day off and he’s ended up in this mess. Trevor can’t be in the mangled carnage that was once a truck, he surely can’t be alive if he is. I watch as Ryan shimmies his way out from under the truck. I’m hoping maybe he’ll tell me everybody’s wrong and it’s not Trevor. Maybe someone else was driving his truck. Which I know is bullshit, because the only other person who’s ever driven that vehicle is me. My ears ring louder, my vision tunnels, and I shake my head. Both against the thought I have that I might black out and the fact that the man I love is possibly injured badly. Even after all these months of no communication with one another, the love I feel for him never went away. That itself tells me I should have been making more of an effort.
Our eyes meet, and I know by the white pallor of his skin, it’s true. There’s no way Ryan would look like death if it wasn’t his best friend.
“It’s Trevor?” My voice is weak, my hands shaking as I press them against the pavement. Little rocks dig into my palms, but the pain is a reminder that I’m still here, that I can help him. If I can pick myself up off the road. I try, but my legs give out from under me, and I fall again.
Ace comes over, grabbing me by the arm, lifting me up, holding me while I try to center myself. It’s a struggle to find my balance when every memory Trevor and I have ever shared is flowing through my mind like a highlight reel of a college football game.
His full lips smiling at me, moving in for the kisses I always wanted to give him. His strong arms holding me when I tried to pull away. Relaxing in hot water, while I washed his hair and he told me his dreams. The way only he can make me ache and scream.
What the fuck were we thinking to let it all go?
That we had all the time in the world, like anyone else thinks.
“It’s Trevor,” he nods, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear it, devastation written all over his face. It’s hard for me to look at him, because I think what I’m seeing is reflected right back. “Get our boy safely to the hospital and give him a fighting chance. I have to go notify his family.”
Immediately I worry about his sister, Whitney, who is heavily pregnant. They’re close, and as far as I know, she’s the only family member he told about our relationship. He looks up to her so much, and he’s beyond excited about the baby girl she’s expecting. I can tell by the way Ryan speaks that he’s unsure if Trevor will have a fighting chance. The thought scares me, and my brain immediately goes to anything and everything that could be wrong with him. I think of him alone, inside the truck. He’s probably hanging by a thread right now. Just the thought of it breaks my heart.