Crashed (Driven, #3)(102)

I power on my phone, surprised it has any battery left since it’s been here since the night everything happened. It turns on and I shake my head at the endless texts of well-wishes. I read a few about the ground breaking ceremony we have coming up to commemorate the new project beginning. And then my last text completely throws me.

Knocks the wind out of me, and steals my heart.

It’s from Colton and I don’t think words from him have ever been so honest or the depths of his despair so raw.

I’m lost here. You’re somewhere in this damn hospital and I need to talk to you. Fucking touch you. Something to you because I’m scared as f*ck … so I’m going to tell you the way I know you’ll hear me. Broken by Lifehouse.

And the tears come now. They fall freely down my face and I don’t try to stop them or hide them because no one is here to see them now. And because they are tears of joy.

He loves me.





“You going to sit out here and drown your f*cking sorrows all night like a whiny little bitch or what?”


The voice coming from the pitch black night scares the shit out of me. “Fucking Christ, Becks!” I bark as I turn to see him walking down the side of the house. “What the f*ck, dude? You ever heard of the front door?”

“Yeah, well, you ever heard of answering your f*cking cell phone? Besides, knocking’s for friends and I’m f*cking family so quit your bitching.”

“I’ve been in the hospital more than enough over the past two months, a heart attack’s not part of my f*cking game plan.” I take a long tug on the beer, my head finally becoming fuzzy enough that when I think of Rylee, the image of her cold, covered in f*cking blood, and unresponsive isn’t what comes to mind first.

“Well, what is part of the game plan then?” he asks as he opens the beer he’s pulled out of the fridge, that f*cking smirk on his face telling me he has a point and f*ck me, I don’t need any more points or advice or f*cking anything right now.

“Really, make yourself at home,” I tell him. “Steal my beer.”

“Nah, just borrowing it,” he says as he plops down in the chair beside me and we sit in silence, trying to gauge the other’s mood. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much at the hospital.”

“Yeah? Well, I had more important things on my mind than shooting the shit with you.” And f*ck if I’m not being an *. I needed him there too, but I’m not real comfortable with where the f*ck he’s going with this. I feel a Becks’ dress down coming. Fuck!

“She asleep?” he asks, lifting his chin up toward the second story.

“It’s past midnight, what do you think?”

“Don’t be such an *. Look, you’ve been handed a lot of f*cking shit to deal with and—”

“Butt the f*ck out, Becks. Let me just drink my goddamn beer in peace.” I toss my empty bottle toward the trash can and f*cking miss. I must be drunker than I thought. Fuckin’ A.

“No can do, brother.” He sighs as I mutter f*cker under my breath which garners a drawn out chuckle from him. “You’ve f*cked this up one too many times so I’m here to help.”

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, sweetheart.” I just want to be left the f*ck alone. Me, my beer, my dog, and my f*cking peace.

“Nice try but you’re stuck with me. Kind of like herpes, only better.”

What the f*ck? “Dude, did you just actually compare yourself to f*cking herpes?” I lean my head back and look at the stars in the sky before angling it over to stare at him and shake my head. “Because at least with herpes, my dick gets serviced first. With you, it’s more like being bent without any f*cking lube.”

He laughs that laugh of his that tugs a smile up at the corner of my mouth. The stubborn f*cker is getting to me when all I want is to be left the f*ck alone.

“Well at least it’s nice to know you’ll let me in somehow,” he says, winking and staring at me until I can’t take it. I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in.

“You’re a sick f*ck, you know that?” I say, uncapping another bottle of beer.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I say as I down half of the bottle letting the night’s silence settle around us. As much as I want to be left alone—to deal with the f*cked up shit in my head that’s telling me a decision’s going to have to come sooner than later—it’s nice that Becks is here, even if he’s a f*cking pain in my ass. I drum my thumbs to Seether playing through the speakers as he gives me a couple of minutes before he starts playing shrink to the f*cking poisonous shit in my head.

“Remember that girl, Roxy Tomlin?” he asks finally, throwing me for a loop.

“Hoover?” I laugh, curious as to why he’s bringing up the blow job queen from our past. The one who sucked Becks off just to get to me. And normally, I’d be shoving that shit out the f*cking door with a stunt like that, but after he’d bragged she gave the best head he’d ever had, I took advantage of the more than willing offer.

“Yeah, f*cking Hoover. The suction that never stopped.” He laughs with me, shaking his head at the memory. “Still pretty goddamn high on the ranking scale in my book.”