That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(89)

I try to hide my reaction to the last one as I swallow hard. Holy shit . . . did someone see us?

Staying calm, I say, “People need to get lives.”

“That’s what I said. Who in their right mind would have sex on the beach in Port Snow? Anyone could catch them.”

“For real. So dumb.”

Jesus Christ, my palms are sweaty.

“So did you have a good time? Have you seen her since?”

I wrap up a wad of twenties and stick it in the money bag. “Every night this week.”

“Really?” Jen perks up, her little romantic heart going a mile a minute, I’m sure.

“Yeah, really. I like her a lot, Jen. I’m falling for her, hard and fast, and I’m finding it damn hard to concentrate on anything other than her.”

“Oh my God, Griff! That’s so exciting.” She grins widely. “It’s happening—you’re loving again.”

“I think I am.”

“And what about the booth? I spoke with Dad the other day, and let me just say, with the addition of Ren in your life and you taking over the Lobster Fest booth, he’s almost too giddy, as if another fudge catalog came in.”

I pull on the back of my neck, thinking over all my plans. “It’s all in motion. The decorations, the games, the apple stamps. Spoke with Bernadette over at the cidery, and she’s really excited to partner up. I submitted the menu to the committee along with my fund-raising goals.” A small smile peeks past my lips. “I’m pretty sure this will be the best booth we’ve had to date.”

Jen returns my smile. “I couldn’t agree more. Dad almost seemed jealous that he didn’t come up with the idea himself, but he also was really proud. I think he’s ready.”

“Ready to hand over the shop?” I ask, butterflies floating in my stomach.

“Yeah, I really think he is.”

And that right there just makes me think all the puzzle pieces of my life are finally starting to come together . . .

My pager goes off, and I quickly pull it off my belt loop. Dispatch calling in for help. I’m supposed to be on duty in thirty minutes. My brow pinches together when I see the code for me to call in. I pull out my cell phone and call dispatch. “This is Griffin,” I say when they answer.

“Griffin, there was an accident over on Main and Turnpike by the school.” The second she says school, my heart starts to pound. “Vehicle collision—debris went everywhere. You start in thirty, but they need some help down there now.”

I swallow hard, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, while a horrible feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach. “Any injuries?”

“Yes. EMT is on it.”

My heart pounds; the room starts to spin. “Okay, I’m on my way.” I hang up the phone, my feet planted firmly in place for a few seconds, my mind trying to comprehend the magnitude of that phone call.

“What’s going on?” Jen asks with a worried expression.

“There was a collision by the school. They need help.” I pocket my phone and start moving, my firefighter instincts kicking in. “I have to get down there, now. I need to make sure . . .”

Jen rounds the counter and chases after me as I head out the front door. “Griffin, don’t jump to conclusions.”

I don’t say a word; instead, I sprint the half mile down the street, my mind whirling with every single possibility, with every negative and damning thought of what could have happened to Ren—and that it’s my fault.

From this day on, your love will be broken.

The words that have been hanging over me for so long spur me forward.

Before I even reach the school, I can hear the commotion of onlookers gathering, the putrid smell of burnt rubber floating through the air. When I turn off of Main, the school comes into view, as well as a logging truck and SUV smashed together, lumber scattered everywhere.

I look around, my eyes scanning for one person and one person alone. I need to make sure she’s okay.

Volunteers are picking up the scattered wood, the police are talking to the drivers, and a tow truck from Brig’s garage is already starting to remove the vehicles.

No sign of Brig.

No sign of Ren.

My heart starts to ease. She wasn’t involved. Thank Christ.

I press my hand against my forehead as Tracker appears at my side. “Hey, man. Dispatch call you in early?”

“Yeah.” I let out a pent-up breath, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Said you needed help with cleanup.”

“Yeah, it’s been a clusterfuck down here. Medical is still tending to people.”

“What do you mean? Wasn’t it just the two drivers?”

Tracker shakes his head. “The drivers were fine; it was the people on the streets that got the brunt of it from all the wood flying out of the back of the truck.”

Once again, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “How many injured?”

“Three teachers, five students.”

“Where are they?” I don’t wait for an answer and head toward the ambulance. Inside, two students are being patched up. Off to the side, I see two teachers, one with a bandage on her arm, the other with a bandage on his leg. I continue to scan the area, and a woman on a gurney is rolled into view, brown hair hanging over the edge. Everything in me stills as I take in the blood that has dried on her face and the red-stained cloth wrapped around her head.