Forever (This #5) (26 page)

“She loved watching videos on my phone. This particular day, I asked her if she’d record a message for me to keep so I would always remember her. I broke all the rules with her, Joe.” I thread my fingers through his hair and with the other hand squeeze my chest in hopes of holding the tears at bay. “I got so attached. I went to see her every day she was there, and then I would visit her at home. My mission was to make her smile, to bring her pleasure in any way I was able.”

“Damn, Sam.” He strums the skin over my chest. “You’re amazing.”

I shake my head. “Anyway. She recorded this during her tube change. I will never have another ring tone. Her name was Hope. She passed away three months later. Did you know more children pass away from mitochondrial disease than all childhood cancers combined?”

He falls to the side and pulls me close before kissing my forehead. “I don’t even know what that disease is. I’ve never heard of it. How is that possible?”

“Exactly. I chose to become a doctor because of her. I want to give people hope. I want her life to be remembered and her death to mean something.” The tears I’d been holding back seep from the side and slide down my cheek. “That’s a mood killer, huh?”

“Actually, I can’t think of a bigger turn on than to hear the raw compassion in your voice for a child.” He kisses my forehead. “I know we just got together. I know this is all new—”

The jingly medley that goes with Joe’s ringtone, which is so surprising because it’s not at all what I would imagine he’d have, starts again. “Do you think it’s weird that someone called your phone, then mine, and now yours again?”

“You wanna know what’s a mood killer?” He rolls his eyes while pointing to his cell. “That damn thing. Hey, didn’t you drive your sister’s car?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably Bradley being a dick.” He chuckles.

I smile. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

Joe reaches over and grabs his phone. “Oh yeah. He totally would.” He checks out the screen and his brows furrow. “Don’t know who this is.” He swipes the green button. “Hell-o.” His hands strum my arm, and my fingers dance over his manscaped chest. I inhale the woody scent that is Joe. He freezes. “I’ll be right there.”

I prop myself up. My heart sinks. Someone tried to get in touch with both of us. My stomach lurches into my throat. “What is it?”

Joe’s face is pale. He gets up and shoves his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Sam.”

“Tell me, Joe. Who is it? What happened?”

He walks to the dresser and pulls a pair of boxer briefs, then slides them up his legs before reaching for a couple of T-shirts. “Ryan and Rebecca.”

“What about them?”

He extends a hand. “Here. Put this on.”

Ah. I hadn’t really thought of what I was going to wear after he ripped the buttons on my shirt. The vest isn’t really something that can be worn by itself. I shake my head. “Where are we going? Please just tell me what’s happening.”

“Put it on, dammit.”

Why won’t he tell me what’s happening? I’m not putting on a single piece of clothing until he spills the beans. “My bra is black. Do you have something that’s colored?”

He narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Tell me what’s happening, and I’ll wear whatever you want me to.”

He shoves that one back, opens another drawer, and pulls a black T-shirt and shoves it at my chest. “They were in an accident. Ryan’s in critical condition. Please get dressed. Now.” He pulls a pair of jeans from the closet and slips into them. Immediate regret settles deep in my gut for loving the way he looks when he’s dressing. The blush creeping on my cheeks feels like it’s shaped in the letter A even though I’ve not cheated on Ryan. Something about knowing exactly what is under his clothes and how every inch of his body feels sends warmth coursing through my veins.

Snap the hell out of it, Sam. This is my fault. Things should have never gotten as far as they did with Ryan. Then again, I have no idea what transpired when he came here and picked up Rebecca. This is not just my fault. It’s ours. Based on Joe’s unmoved face, I think he may be having the same realization. What does that mean for us? Why am I even thinking about us right now? My mouth dries instantly. “Okay. Where is he? My bra is in the kitchen still.”

“They airlifted him to Grayson Memorial.” He pulls me up and leads us into the kitchen where he shakes his head, looking at the mess of clothing and buttons we left earlier before heading to the bedroom. Grayson is the best trauma hospitals in the metro area. You don’t want to hear your loved one has been sent there. He reaches down and lifts my bra by its strap. His eyes are cold when he looks at me. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I wrap it around my chest, fasten the clasps, and slip my arms through the thin pieces of elastic. “Let me drive you.”

He shakes his head. “You can ride with me, but I’ll drive.”

“I should call Gabby and let her know what’s going on.” I reach down and slip my panties on, then my jeans, socks, and shoes.

“You can call her from the road. If they want their car back, they can come get it.” He picks up his keys, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, and runs his hands through his hair as he surveys the bar where he made love to me with his mouth, then his eyes wander to the floor where the buttons rest. “I’ll clean this up later.”

I scan the area one last time. The leftovers of our passion. The remnants of the destruction of our love. Is this love?

“Sam.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s go. It’s gonna take us an hour to get there as it is.”

Gabby’s keys. I pull them from my pocket as we walk to the front door. “Should I put these under the mat or what?”

He looks at me like I’m an errant child asking a ridiculous question. “My brother, your boy...he’s in critical condition, Sam. You of all people know what that means. Are we seriously going to sit here and contemplate where to put the keys to Gabby’s car?” He opens the front door. We both step through the threshold. Joe pulls it closed, then locks it.

Yeah. I, of all people, fully understand what it means. “I’m sorry. It’s just.” I shove the keys under the coir mat that says welcome. “There. I’m ready.” It was nice for Gabby to let me borrow it, but I don’t want to leave them in a bad situation because of my poor choices. Who knows what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour, or day. Bile lurches up my throat. If Ryan doesn’t pull through, I’ll never forgive myself. But more than that, will Joe be able to forgive me? Himself?

The doors to Joe’s black Tesla Model S click open, and I pull the handle of the passenger side door before sliding into the car. It’s not at all what I’d pictured him driving. Maybe I don’t know him as well I thought. Sharing the story of Hope with him made me realize he doesn’t know me as well as I thought, but it was easy to open up, and I want him to know me better than anyone. Every bit of my being wants him to be the one to know all my deepest and darkest secrets. He opens his door, slips into the driver’s seat, and shuts it while igniting the engine.

The music is blaring. Rihanna’s
S & M
is playing talking about sex being in the air and the smell of it. Heat travels through my body, ricocheting off my core. I swallow. My heart syncopates with the upbeat rhythm.

Must. Talk. About. Something. Other. Than. Sex. Would he like sex with whips and chains? I never thought I would, but with him, I think I could.

Must. Think. About. Something. Other. Than. Sex.

Ryan.

Must. Think. About. Something. Other. Than. Ryan.

“What made you get this car?” I ask.

“It’s green.”

I stare blankly at him. “No, it’s not.”

He smirks. “Yes. It is.”

I inspect the paint through the side mirror. Surely, I’ve not totally lost my mind or suddenly gone color blind. Pointing out the window, I say, “It’s black.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not the color. It’s a green car. Look in the backseat. It seats three on that row, but the trunk has two seats. How many sedans can say they seat seven people? This is also an electric car.” When he’s on an open road, he guns it. My chest is thrust back. “Plus, it goes zero to sixty in five point nine seconds.”

My eyes dart to him. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? Let’s try to get to your brother in one piece, please?” And Rebecca. I still don’t know what they were or how she is. He hasn’t mentioned her, and I can’t help but be curious as to what her fate is, but I refuse to mention her. I’m not able to identify why that is.

He shakes his head.

Is he saying no?

My fingers twist with one another. He turns onto one of the main roads. It’s twisty and windy. There’s water on one side and rolling tree-covered hills on the other. The dam. He’s still driving like a bat out of hell. A thought comes crashing to my mind like waves breaking on the beach. Is he so ashamed of what we’ve done that he’d rather put us in a grave, or better yet, sink us to the bottom of that lake? My hand reaches to the door handle and squeezes. “Joe.”

“Hmm?”

This wasn’t how I envisioned us riding together for the first time. Under any other circumstances, I’d probably find his stunts sexy. Actually, no. I’ve seen and heard too much to find reckless behavior attractive. “Joe, can you please slow down?”

He sighs, but I can feel his foot letting off the gas. My fingers still dig into the side of the door. Did he sigh because he’s irritated with me about asking him to slow down? Oh no. Maybe everything Ryan said about him is true. What have I done? I was his conquest. Now that he’s had me, he’s over me. What if everything he said was just a way for him to get me, and now that he’s had me, he doesn’t want me. The thought repulses me, but now’s not the time to bring it up. Because regardless of what’s happening between us, or isn’t, his brother—my ex-boyfriend of only a few hours—is in critical condition. How screwed up is this?

“Do you mind if I call Gabby?” I ask, reaching for my cell phone.

He shakes his head again. Is he incapable of speaking? Maybe he’s trying to keep it together for me. Maybe if we weren’t together he’d be crying the whole way to the hospital, although something tells me it takes a lot to make Joe Adams cry. The song
Someone Like You
by Adele is on, but he turns it down. On the playlist of possible songs we could hear right now, I’d prefer the one about hot sex versus the one talking about him finding someone else who provided what I couldn’t. Adele makes it sound like it’s so easy to find someone else when you lose the love of your life. I’m not sure I could ever find someone like Ryan again. Or Joe. And I’m scared out of my mind that I’ve just lost them both.

“Hey.”

He glances at me, his eyes cold and distant. Don’t ask, Sam. “You okay?”

“That’s a ridiculous question. It’s not even worthy of an answer.”

I nod. He’s being a dick, but everyone deals with grief in their own way. Ryan may not be dead, but Joe may very well be in shock. “I’m sorry, Joe. I feel like this is all my fault.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He may as well be fucking punching me with each of his nasty words. “You know what? I know you’re hurting. If you don’t wanna be with me right now, you can drop me off somewhere. I’ll just have Gabby and Bradley pick me up.”

“Even more ridiculous.”

Tears prick my eyes. Is this what fights will be like with him? Maybe we’re not meant to be together. He’s spent months telling me how I deserve better than his brother, but I deserve better than this. “I’m sorry.”

His lips press in a thin line. “Me too. Call your sister.”

Everything in my being wants to put my phone away and not call her just because he told me to, but my fingers pull her name up and press send. She answers on the second ring. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“Gabby, there’s been an”—I survey Joe’s face to see his expression when I say the next word in hopes of deciphering his mood—“accident.” He flinches, then turns away from me. He’s shutting me out. That’s fine. Please don’t let it be permanent. “Ryan and Rebecca.”

She draws in a breath. “Ohmygosh. How bad?”

“Ryan’s at Grayson. Will you let Bradley know? I’m on my way with Joe. Your keys are under the mat of Joe’s lake house.”

“I’m not worried about the car. We’ll meet y’all there.” I don’t know how Joe feels about having guests at the hospital without knowing what the situation is, but I really don’t care. Up until a few hours ago, Ryan was my boyfriend. I got a call too. And Gabby’s my sister. I peer at Joe. I swear he’s doing everything possible to avoid eye contact. Or maybe he’s just driving. Maybe I’m paranoid. “Thank you. Please, for all that’s holy, be safe.”

“We will. Love you, Sam.”

“Love you, Gabby.” She hangs up. “They’re going to meet us there.”

“Fine,” he says.

“Yeah.” Just fine. Not good. Not great. Just fine. I have two words—the first starts with the letter F—I could give to him right now, but I’ll refrain. He owes me a mega apology, though.