Because we need to get out of this truck.
With thoughts of what happened to Titus’s high school sweetheart flashing through my muddled mind, I fumble around for the buckle of my belt. It takes a few tries, but I manage to press the button.
It didn’t realize just how far I had to fall, and I hit the roof with a grunt, blacking out for what I hope is just a second before managing to get myself righted. It’s not easy with one leg useless and numb. Plus it’s shocking how disorienting it is when a space is the opposite of what you’re used to. I work on cars for a living, and wrapping my head around the upside downness of this one isn’t easy.
I’m sure the throbbing in my brain isn’t helping.
Walker releases his own belt, but he’s smart enough to have one arm out to break his fall, making his dismount way more graceful than mine.
“We should go out your door. It’ll be harder to get through mine with the steering wheel in the way.”
I scoot toward him, stretching out across the roof as he yanks the handle. I stomp against the door panel with my good leg, putting as much force into the kick as I can. It takes a few more hits before it wrenches loose. Walker leans his weight against it, the truck creaking as metal and plastic bow and break.
I join him, fitting beside his big frame as well as I can, pushing with everything I’ve got as I fight the dots swimming across my vision. By the time we finally get enough of a gap to pass through, I’m breathing heavy and feeling nauseated.
Walker starts shoving me out first. I try to fight him, but I’m too fucking exhausted to accomplish much and end up rolling out onto the grass.
The sun assaults my eyes, and with a pained groan, I slingan arm up to shade my face. Walker flops down beside me, chest heaving, a cut over his eye leaking blood.
“What the fuck just happened?” I’m still struggling to wrap my head around how in the hell we got here.
Walker manages to prop himself up, looking over the grassy area where my truck came to rest. He points. “I would say that car hit us.”
I manage to turn my head, looking in the direction he indicated. Several people are trying to help whoever’s behind the wheel of a black sedan. The front end is flattened, completely destroyed from the impact.
It’s not surprising. One of my vehicles is the last thing anyone should accidentally hit. Mine might not make it out of a crash fully intact, but it’s always going to come out better than everyone else’s.
“Where did he even come from?” Walker presses a hand against the cut on his head. “Our light was green.”
It’s getting harder and harder to open my eyes after each blink, but I keep fighting. “I need to call Brooke. Let her know I’m okay.” I try to sit up, but the movement makes me dizzy, so I drop back down with a gasp, stomach rolling as I watch the people moving around the other car.
The sound of sirens carries through the air, but they seem to be getting farther away instead of closer.
Everythingseems to be getting farther away.
When the crowd shifts, clearing my line of sight to the car that hit us, the man behind the wheel looks a lot like Matt.
I squint, trying to get a better look, but only succeed in closing my eyes. It’s too much work to open them again, so I just let them stay where they are as everything goes black.
33
Brooke
“You can file a police report. Probably get some sort of a protection order.” The company attorney is doing his best to help me figure out what my next move should be. “You could potentially file a lawsuit for harassment. But I’m not sure it would be worth the time, effort, or money.”
“I think I’d rather talk to the police first. Try to establish some sort of grounds to legally prevent Matt from coming near me or my family.” The last part comes out so naturally. So easily.
Because I do have a family. A real one. A family who cares about me and will stand up for me and wants what’s best for me.
A family that includes the very angry man sitting behind the desk in front of me.
Trevor’s first plan was to go find Matt and kill him. I think it was actually the first thing he and Maren have ever agreed on. Thankfully, I was able to point out a few hiccups they might run into that could cause major problems, and they decided maybe it was better to not commithomicide.
“I agree.” The attorney’s voice carries through the speaker of Trevor’s phone. “I have a few contacts in the police department. Let me reach out to them. I’ll get back with you and let you know when they will be coming to talk to you.”
I don’t even have to go to the police station? That makes the decision to speak with them even easier. “I really appreciate it. Thank you.”
Trevor smashes his finger against the disconnect button way harder than required. Standing from his chair, he paces across his fancy office while raking a hand through his hair. “Tobias is going to shit.”
