AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rough hands grasped my biceps, probably harder than he intended or realized. I raised my head despondently and gently shook it.
“I couldn’t get through, but I... when I was outside, they brought someone into the ER. From an ambulance. He had multiple stab wounds and it... it didn’t look good.” His grip intensified. I knew he was squeezing too tight, that he’d leave bruises, but I hardly felt it. “Reno, it was... it was Owen. The person they brought in. It was Owen.”
His eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he couldn’t see me. “Reno?” I reached up to cup his jaw and he jerked away, lunging to the far side of the room.
“You’re wrong.” His voice came out harsh, angry.
“It was Owen, Reno,” I said, tone gentle.
Unfocused eyes met mine, and I saw something in them I’d never seen in anyone before. Horror. Sheer panic. The kind you’d see in the eyes of a man who knew he was about to lose everything that mattered.
“Reno,” I cried, jumping up to go to him.
“Where is he?” he demanded, moving away from me.
My hands fell to my sides as I opened my mouth to answer him. He didn’t wait before bolting through the doors in search of his brother.
Without me.
Eighteen
Riley
The stab wound to Owen’s abdomen had pierced straight through his liver, causing major internal haemorrhaging. They hadn’t been able to get him to surgery in time to stop the bleeding. He’d lost too much. They hadn’t been able to save him.
Owen David Renner died less than thirty minutes after his stepfather. In the three days that passed since, people tried to find comfort in that. At least they went together. They’ll have each other up there. The platitudes were heartfelt and sincere. People needed to find the light in the dark. They failed to mention that Brett and Owen dying on the same day, minutes apart, left a seventeen-year-old boy without a family. For Reno, there was nothing but darkness. It felt like I’d lost him to it, and I couldn’t find my way through.
Reno would turn eighteen in five weeks. Brett’s second-hand man at the garage, Trent Donovan, had said he could stay with him and his family indefinitely. But Reno hadn’t left his bedroom since he walked through the door, laden down with the possessions his brother and father would never need again. I’d stayed here, bringing him food, and taking it away uneaten. I’d knelt on the floor by his single bed and rested my head by his pillow, but he’d barely spoken a word. It was soul crushing.
“Reno?” I rapped my knuckles against the flimsy wood of his closed door and waited. When he didn’t answer, I pushed down on the handle and went inside, a sandwich and can of soda on a tray in my hand. “Hey? Ren?”
He sat on his bed, back against the wall, knees up and legs apart. He turned to me, eyes coasting over the tray. “Thanks,” he said, voice scratchy with disuse.
Placing the tray on his nightstand, I perched on the edge of the bed and stroked my fingers down his forearm, tracing the protruding vein and sinew. He looked so strong. But this had brought him to his knees. He’d lost everything in the space of one night. Less than that. I wanted to be here for him. I wanted him to let me be here for him.
“Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
I nodded. “That’s good.”
My eyes swayed to the small window. The drapes, drawn roughly across the glass, left just a wide enough gap to see outside. This side of the trailer park backed onto a bunch of trees, their gnarled branches swayed in the wind, bare of leaves. It looked barren. Everything felt barren.
“I need to plan the funerals.”
Funerals. Plural.
My heart plummeted. It was unfair, so fucking unfair. A knock sounded on the trailer door. Leon had left to grab a shower ten minutes ago, but people came and went all day, bringing casseroles wrapped in cellophane.
“I’ll get it.” I jumped up, guilt tearing into me when I realized how much I wanted to escape the conversation about the funerals Reno would have to plan. My face caved when Liss appeared behind the door, and I practically fell into her waiting arms.
“Shh, it’s okay, babe.” Her palm stroked my hair as I cried into her neck, and I felt my body trembling. “Come on.”
She moved us through the door and closed it behind her while I cried my heart out on her shoulder. Eventually, the tears ebbed, and I sank down into a chair at the diner while Liss moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle, grabbing cups and canisters. She set everything in position on the countertop, the kettle bubbling and steaming, then turned to me, big blue eyes sad and shining.
She cleared her throat roughly. “How is he?”
My gaze drifted to the door, and my lips rolled together hard, squeezing to stop the sobs that never seemed to stifle.
