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“Yeah, there are people here.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“No. Stay with Matty.”
“I’ll figure something out for him. I’m coming to you!”
My neck folds back limply, as if I’m made of paper. Much as I’m worried about Matty, I’ll feel ten times better when Clay is by my side.
* * *
Clay meetsme at the hospital just as the doctor pops my shoulder back into place. My teeth grit, biting back my scream.
“You take pain very well, Mr. Hartley,” the doctor says.
Actually, my pain tolerance has gone down since my SEAL days. That hurt.
I shrug off the sting, but it persists.
The doctor notices and adds, “You should still take it easy with that arm of yours. I popped your shoulder back, but that doesn’t make the impact from the crash disappear.” He nods at the bruise that covers almost my whole shoulder.
Although my car will probably need extensive repairs, the dislocated shoulder was my only injury. I haven’t broken any ribs, only bruised them. My left arm and side are peppered with scratches, but other than that, I’ve escaped pretty much unscathed.
The doctor lets me go with a warning that I need to take it easy. My blood pressure is low and apparently my heart is still recovering from shock, despite not feeling the least bit shocked.
Clay hasn’t said much. He looks helpless, as if I’m already dead. Close to home, he says, “What really happened there, Rob? Don’t tell me you were…”
“Clay! I wasn’t speeding. The brakes failed.”
“How?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I do. I’m just stunned.”
The rest of the drive is a long ribbon of silence. Even the house is silent, and absurdly, I miss Matty’s cries.
“He’s at Wyatt’s?” I ask Clay.
“Yeah. He kept calling for you. I only managed to calm him down by doing what you do—you know, putting his head on your shoulder. But I had to fight for it.”
“Good work. I guess Katie was there, too?” I want to cheekily remind him not to take all the glory. But my brother brandishes his flattened lips instead. “Hey. What is it?”
His eyes droop. “She’s gone.”
I growl under my breath, hating the way he’s agonizing about her. Katie had been going out with Clay for a few months, and I didn’t know her that well. But I knew my brother had hopes for the relationship.
“I’m sorry, Clay.”
My brother has historically handled break-ups with his head held high and recovered without a prolonged feel-sorry-for-myself period. But he can’t hide his disgust this time.
“In a way, Katie reminded me of how Lina behaved toward the end—disappearing regularly, not answering calls, making excuses. So I sent Blake.” Simon Blake, our PI. The guy helps Hartley Marine investigate unfair competitors and hostile business enemies, and any other potential threats—which I guess includes cheating women (although I didn’t use him to catch Lina Belaya).
Clay looks up at my atrium ceiling, resentful. He says, “What the fuck is wrong with us? We both know Lina and Katie weren’t the only ones who cheated on us. Are we just side dishes to women?”
“It’s them, not us,” I bite out.
“Don’t get me wrong. Amber is not like the others, she’s a gem. I’ve never said this about any of your girlfriends, Rob. You know that. So when I said ‘us,’ really, I meant me.”
