She’d been the dog at the lake in the old fable. She’d been so busy trying to grab the other dog’s bone, she’d lost the one she had.
How could she have thrown away the only real happiness she’d ever known since her mother died? She’d been an idiot. How many deals had she and Owen cut since he’d returned? Enough that she should’ve realized they could find compromise this time too. Maybe she could’ve had it all—adventure, career, and the man she loved. But she’d panicked instead of giving him a chance. What if she’d trusted him enough to toss aside her pride and risk asking him to work this out? What if she hadn’t been afraid to tell him she loved and needed him? What if she’d fought for him and the life they could have together?
Then the world went black.
*
When Dylan hitCarly with the board, he sent her flying to land in a crumpled heap five feet away. Rage and gut-wrenching panic erupted inside Owen. He charged Dylan and tackled him. Left hand holding the kid’s shirt, he pounded his right hand into Dylan’s face. Hands clawed at his shoulders, trying to yank him off.
“You have to stop, Owen,” Ryder pleaded.
Owen glanced over his shoulder to see Ryder’s face twisted with fear and concern. “Carly’s hurt. She’s bleeding bad. I don’t know what to do.”
Carly needed him.
Owen crawled off Dylan and rushed to Carly as the police arrived. Blood spurted from a long gash in her arm, and a broken bone protruded from her skin. His body shook. His vision blurred. His mind went blank. He couldn’t breathe. There was so much blood. He was going to lose her.
The hell he would.
He tore off his shirt and tied a tourniquet above the wound to slow the blood loss. All the while he barked out orders. For one officer to call for an ambulance, for Ryder to explain the situation to another, and for someone to keep Dylan the hell away before he finished the beating he started.
“Hold on Carly. Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you.”
*
Beep. Beep. Beep.The rhythmic annoying sound worked its way through the cotton stuffed inside Carly’s head. She tried to open her eyes but quit when the pounding in her head increased. What was that noise, and why wouldn’t someone turn the stupid thing off?
Slowly the fog enveloping her brain lifted, and she pieced together the memories. She remembered sneaking into Ryder’s graduation, but what had she done after that? Reese’s house. She’d been sitting on the couch, watching a stupid horror flick while stuffing her face with butter-laden popcorn.
Then Owen called.
Memories tumbled over each other. He said Ryder had crashed into a ditch, and he was going to help. He told her to stay put, but she’d been worried about Owen and Ryder. Unable to bear them getting hurt, she’d gone to ensure that didn’t happen. When she arrived, Dylan had been brandishing a broken piece of fence like a sword. That was how she’d gotten hurt.
Her eyes sprang open and the first thing she noticed was flowers. On every available surface. Arrangements of roses, daisies, carnations, lilies, and countless others created an explosion of color as if she were in a florist shop. People had sent her flowers?
She took in the rest of her surroundings. Sun streamed in from the window to her right. A few rays landed on her in a hospital bed. Her left arm, encased in bandages, rested on a pillow. Monitors behind her tracking her vital signs accounted for the annoying beep.
“You’re awake. Thank the good Lord.”
Carly turned toward the familiar voice. Her father sat in a small, boxy chair in the far corner. Her heart sank with disappointment. What had she expected? To find Owen keeping a vigil after she’d broken up with him?
“We’ve been worried. You’d lost so much blood. When they brought you in you needed a transfusion before they took you to surgery. It took an orthopedic surgeon three hours to repair your arm.”
She remembered Dylan charging Owen and her running toward them. A fist pinching her heart, Carly forced her question past the lump clogging her throat. “What about Owen and Ryder? Are they okay?”
Her father nodded. “Worried and mad as hell at you for throwing yourself at Dylan, but other than that, they’re fine.”
“Thank goodness.”
“What about Dylan? What happened with him?” she asked.
“He’s come down from whatever he took. His parents are working to get him into drug rehab.” Her father went on to say she’d have to talk to the police about pressing charges.
“Rather than going to jail, I want Dylan to get the help he needs.”
The door swung open. “I told the police the same thing,” Owen said as he stepped into the room.
Tall and incredibly handsome, the monitor beside her bed beeped faster. How could he still make her heart race when she knew he didn’t fit into where she saw her life going?
