Page 64 of Fractured Hearts

“I’m sure.”

Darren sighs and signals to pull over. I frown as he slows the car and puts it in park on the side of the road. “I know who you are, Jo.” Every muscle in my body stiffens, and I turn my head slowly to look at him. Both of his hands are still on the steering wheel, but he’s looking at me with kind eyes. “Martha figured it out. We won’t tell anyone, but we know you’re all hiding from something, and we want to help.”

“I appreciate it. I really do, but being around me puts you in danger.”

Darren studies me and nods. He might be telling the truth about wanting to help, but there’s no way he’s risking his wife to do that. Not that I blame him. I won’t be risking him or his wife, either. Darren and Martha are really good people who would give up a lot to help a stranger. I can’t let them do that for me, even though all I want is to curl up and let Martha hug me and feed me cookies.

Darren puts his directional on to pull back out onto the main road, even though there’s no other cars anywhere in sight, but before he can step on the gas, the sound of a gunshot rings in the air followed by breaking glass. My head is shoved down as something hot and wet drips into my eye. My mind blanks and all I can think is that Patrick has found me, and I got Darren killed. Maverick was right. I’m selfish.

sixty-two

EZRA

I find Maverick huddled in a ball in the snow, sobbing. Part of me wants to comfort him, and the other part wants to smack him. If he didn’t look like such a pathetic mess right now, the second option may have won. Instead, I sit down next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, but not quite close enough to touch.

“What was that?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet. Maverick lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying.

“I could’ve lost you,” he says, his voice small and rough from crying.

“Which would’ve been my fault and not Jo’s. If you want to take your anger out on anyone, it should be me.”

“She told you to listen to the podcast!” he argues. His face, which was already pink from the cold, turns a deeper shade with his anger.

“And she was right. I needed to hear it. I didn’t fully believe how badly I hurt everyone. It was easier to hold on to the belief that I didn’t have a choice, and nothing was my fault. But that’s not the truth.” Maverick goes to open his mouth and probably argue, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “I know a lot of it wasn’t in my control, but I’m sure I could’ve found a safe way to contact you. I didn’t because it hurt me less. I knew you would beg me to come with me, but I also knew I couldn’t, so I saved myself from hearing your pleas by letting you believe I was gone.”

Maverick looks at me like he’s just now putting it all together and maybe I will really lose him this time, but it would be no one’s fault but mine.

“I’m the selfish one, Maverick. Not Jo.”

“Fuck,” Maverick gasps, fresh tears following the path of the old ones down his red cheeks. “Fuck! I fucked up so bad. Fuck!” He’s grabbing at his hair and pulling, on the verge of a panic attack, when I hear footsteps crunch in the snow. They’re too heavy to be Jo. I go to turn to see who was able to sneak up on us when pain blooms on the side of my head. The last thing I hear is Maverick screaming my name before the world turns black.

sixty-three

JO

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Darren,” the frantic teenager says for the hundredth time. Darren sighs and lifts the gauze he has pressed to my head. The shattering of the glass from the buckshot left a cut right above my eye that won’t stop bleeding. Darren said it’s shallow, but head wounds like to bleed.

“I know, Martin. I still need to tell your dad,” Darren says a lot more calmly than I would.

“He’s going to kill me! I just got my hunting license last week!” Martin argues, like he didn’t trip with a loaded gun and shoot out two windows in Darren’s car. He’s lucky it missed both of us.

Darren sighs again, like he’s tired all the way down to his bones. “Hold this while I call his dad.” I press the clean gauze into the wound. It stings a little, but it doesn’t hurt like the amount of blood would imply.

Martin crosses his arms and sits on the side of the road like he’s more concerned about losing his ability to hunt than the damage he’s caused. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure in my choice not to have kids than at this very moment.

“How old do you have to be to get a hunting license?” I ask Darren when he sits back down beside me. We’re sitting in the open back of his SUV to avoid the glass on the seats.

“Sixteen in Maine.”

“That seems like a mistake,” I say, looking pointedly at Martin. I really shouldn’t be judging all teenagers based on one, but this particular one is allowed to handle a gun and probably shouldn’t be.

“He could get a hunting license, but still hasn’t passed his driver’s test, and he’s taken it three times,” Darren whispers. I snort. It’s not funny but is at the same time.

It’s not long before a large red pickup is pulling up behind the SUV. Darren stands and greets the man, shaking his hand and explaining what happened. Martin’s father and Darren exchange a few more words before he’s dragging his son by the back of his jacket and throwing him into the truck.

“Martha should be here any minute. She’ll take you to the bed-and-breakfast while I wait for a tow,” Darren says, checking the cut on my head, which must have finally stopped bleeding because he doesn’t replace the gauze. “If that’s still where you want to go.”

I take a deep breath and look up at the sky. The sun is just starting to set, and I know the guys must have realized I was gone by now. My plan had been to get to the bed-and-breakfast and then order a car to the nearest town with a bus stop. Martin’s arrival really messed up that plan. They’re both either on their way or have decided I’m not worth it. I don’t know which is worse.