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Signal lost.
I yanked on my seatbelt and thanked God the car was still running and drivable. I pulled onto the road.
“I can’t get a signal, but here in just a mile, service
should pick up.” I had my phone in my lap, ready to dial emergency as soon as reception came through.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“911.”
“No,” she winced. “Don’t do that.”
“Bea, you’re in pain and—”
“And you’re taking me to the doctor, right?”
My mouth dropped and I looked spastically between her and the road. “Of course! I’m going to the hospital.”
“Good. We’ll figure all this out there.” She leaned back in her seat, still holding her wrist. “Will you get ahold of Cal, though?”
My phone blipped with service. I was ready to argue with Bea, but she just looked over at me, those blue eyes watery, and asked, “Please?”
I nodded and dialed.
“Cal?” I asked.
“What’s wrong?” he said immediately.
“I’m with Bea, we’ve been rear-ended. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
“I’m on my way. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I glanced at Bea. “Her wrist is hurt, but we’re both okay.”
A string of curses lit up the phone and I heard Jack’s voice in the background. I didn’t have time to explain more and needed to focus on driving, so I hung up and headed straight toward the hospital.
“I’m so sorry, Bea,” I said.
“Oh, honey, how could this be your fault? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
That’s when my gut sank. Because this was my fault. My presence put Bea in danger. Though I couldn’t see the driver, it was no coincidence that my house had burned down, and now we were hit, twice. Someone clearly had it out for me. And I was certain that someone was Brock.
A part of me had thought that with my father’s death, this stalking would be over. That Brock would leave me alone. I was wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” was all I said again. Because, deep down, I knew this was, in fact, my fault.
Chapter 6
I waited outside the doors to the X-ray room, running my palms over my face. My knees were shaking, my brain hurling thoughts around a thousand miles a millisecond. Poor Bea. She was hurting. And this stupid stunt likely had something to do with me.
My knee hurt from where it’d bumped the glove box, but it was nothing compared to what Bea was going through.
When would this end? I was fighting shadows and losing. The realization that I was totally and completely out of control shot a dose of mind-numbing fear straight through my temple.
I was losing.
Losing my mind, losing the fight, losing everything.
