Page 67 of Chasing Honor

“Right. And I told you, not to delay apologizing to your woman. Now she thinks you don’t want her there and is going to give you space to sort your shit. Am I right?” I grunted my confirmation, and he continued. “So, you gonna let her move out?”

“Fuck no. But I have to tell you, her wanting to run away at the first sign of trouble doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling. We’re gonna talk about that too.”

“Yeah, I’d tread lightly about that, friend. You did this to her. You made her feel unwanted. I know you, when you freeze someone out, you freeze them the fuck out. I’ve never known anyone who can shut down like you. You don’t burn when you’re angry, you go arctic. A relationship can weather an argument, what it can’t is silence.”

“One-Palmer-One, what’s your twenty?” The radio transmission cut off my retort.

“One-Palmer-One to dispatch, we’re northbound on Everson, passing 3rd Street,” I called back with our location.

“One-Palmer-One continue northbound to 7th. Single vehicle collision. Possible fatality. EMS and fire are en route.”

“One-Palmer-One. Copy.”

Lorenz hit the lights and sirens and increased his speed, veering around cars that had begun to slow.

“Move to the right, fuckers, don’t stop in the middle of the damn road,” he grouched.

“Shitty way to start a shift,” I commented.

No one liked reporting to an accident scene where there were injuries or fatalities, but nothing set the tone of a tour when it was the first call of the night.

Ladder 61 was already on scene when Lorenz came to a stop behind the truck. The large rig was blocking the accident itself, and looky-loos had already gathered around.

“I’ll take crowd control,” Lorenz said when he put the squad car in park.

I rounded the fire truck and cringed. A white Honda Accord had jumped the curb and collided head-on with a traffic light pole. The front of the car was a mangled mess of crunched metal. The left bumper was smashed as well. I was looking for a possible second vehicle when I heard a woman screaming. That wasn’t unusual for an accident scene, however, I thought I’d heard my name.

“Someone needs to call Officer Ethan Lenox, right goddamn now,” she yelled again.

My attention went back to the white car and my heart dropped to my stomach, and I took off in a sprint. Honor drove a white Honda Accord. I tried to tell myself it was impossible, Honor was home, safe and sound, with Carson. They were going to watch a movie and make tacos. Carson! Fuck.

I skidded to a halt in front of the car, and my eyes shifted from the driver to the small passenger in the backseat. I blinked and tried again, praying I was hallucinating.

Honor.

Carson.

I used to think my worst fear was Chrissy coming into Carson’s life and turning everything upside down. I’d been very wrong. Seeing Honor’s car smashed in front of me and not knowing if the two people I loved most in this world were hurt or worse was far scarier. The feeling was indescribable; it went beyond fear.

“I need that collar now. We have to move her.”

What in the actual fuck? Why was Chrissy barking orders to the EMS squad? Why in the hell was she here to begin with?

“Ethan. Thank God. Carson is fine. Minor contusion on her forehead. She’s alert and responsive. I’ve advised EMS to leave her buckled in until I can look her over better.”

“Daddy!” Carson screamed, and my confusion immediately drained away. Thank God she was talking.

“Hi, baby, are you okay?” I asked, going for the buckle I desperately needed my daughter in my arms.

“Don’t move her, Ethan,” Chrissy barked. “Let me finish with Honor and then I’ll check her again.”

Who the fuck did this woman think she was, telling me what to do with my daughter?

“Please, Ethan,” she begged. The desperation in her tone stopped me from scooping Carson up and holding her the way I wanted. Instead I grabbed both of her tiny hands in mine and squeezed.

“I’m scared, Daddy.”

“I know you are, Squirt. Are you okay?” I asked again.