Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(4)

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head and watching her exhale in relief. Her eyes were heavy and he could tell that she was getting tired. “You look like you need to rest.” He stood up and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to go, but I’ll stop by later and check up on you.”

“Okay.” She leaned into his kiss and gave his hand a squeeze. Maybe she needed a little physical contact too. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Of course.” He offered her a wink and headed for the door.

For just a split second, he wished that he could be hooked up to a constant drip of medication and laid out in a hospital bed. All Cami had to do was reach over, press a button to get a little relief, and drift back to unconsciousness. Back to where she didn’t know that people had died or lives had been ruined. He cursed himself for thinking like that. He had to be strong.

He could hear his grandfather’s voice in his head telling him to “shape up or ship out.”

And in his head would be the only place he’d hear Pop’s voice again, so he couldn’t even make himself tune it out. He heard every single word.



“Kevin, get your daddy. Go get him now. I need him.”

Hayden Prescott did his best not to clench his fists, especially since his left arm was still in a cast and it hurt like hell to move his fingers even by accident.

“It’s me, Grandma. Hayden. Kevin’s my dad.”

Sometimes he corrected her, and sometimes he played along. If she was agitated, it was easier to be where she was than in the present. But today, he was too tired to fake it. He was tired of lying to her, tired of pretending. Tired of fighting with his mom about sending his grandma to a home.

“She’d love it. They have a garden, and all kinds of activities,” his mom would argue.

They could shove their activities right up their asses. A few summers ago he and a few friends had broken into the quarry and dared some freshmen girls to skinny dip. ‘Cause they were cool like that. They’d all gotten busted, but because of his parents’ money, he’d gotten off with community service. Which he’d served at Golden Acres Retirement Community. The activities he’d seen included drooling in a wheelchair in a corner, yelling out in pain while being ignored completely, and having nonsensical debates with electrical outlets.

His grandma would not be going to a place like that if he could help it.

“We can take care of her. I can help. I helped Pops all summer. I can do this,” he pleaded whenever his mom almost had his dad convinced.

So far, his “it’s what Pops would’ve wanted” argument was his ace in the hole. But he wasn’t sure how much longer it would hold up. It’d been a week since they’d buried his grandpa. Sure, there’d been a funeral and a wake in which half the town had fallen on each other’s necks and talked about how much they’d miss the stubborn old man, how much he did for the community, what a wonderful man he was, but his parents seemed to be ready to get on with life as usual.

They were in charge of the land Pops had owned in Hope’s Grove now, and they were constantly meeting with lawyers and discussing uses for it. Most of all, Hayden suspected they planned to sell every single bit of it.

His summer in Hope’s Grove had changed him, and one of the things he’d been able to see clearly for the first time in his life was that his parents were greedy *s.

Pops had suffered a heart attack while trying to protect his wife in the middle of the worst tornado Oklahoma had seen in years. The constant throb in his arm as his bone fused back together was Hayden’s physical reminder of his recklessness and stupidity. He’d seen the weather report, and just like every other idiot at the field party, he’d ignored it.

Now, his grandfather was dead, his grandmother was more confused than ever, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about except blame himself. He should have been with them instead of screwing up his relationship with Ella Jane. She’d seen him with Cami and then he’d totaled the truck before he could meet her at the ridge and explain. After the storm, everything had been utter chaos. He’d called her a half a dozen times, planning to ask her to come to his grandpa’s funeral if she could, but she never picked up. He’d seen her mom there, but the woman had been mostly surrounded by ladies her age. Not that he could’ve told her mom what he wanted to say anyway.

What he wanted to say to her he couldn’t pass along through someone else or leave as a voice mail. He needed to see her. Unfortunately, with everything that his family was going through, he hadn’t had a chance to make it back to Hope’s Grove yet.

She was the only reason he had to go back. Practically the whole damn town had been destroyed by the twister. They even had to have his grandfather’s visitation at the funeral home in Summit Bluffs because all that was left of the one in Hope’s Grove was a pile of rubble. Along with the funeral home, he knew that the Hope’s Grove High School had been leveled and his chances of seeing Ella Jane sooner rather than later were high. She’d be walking down the same hallways and maybe even in a couple classes with him in a week when the displaced students from HGHS came to Summit Bluffs.

One week. He could wait one week to see her and beg her for a second chance.





Caskets aren’t light. Even with six dudes, four of them two-hundred-plus-pound linebackers, carrying it.