AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good evening, Officer!” I shout down. They probably don’t even hear me.
A voice booms from a bullhorn. “Case Benton Michaels? Is that you?”
“No!” Under my breath, I mumble, “S’my granddad.” Fool ranchers naming three generations the same damn thing. I attempt to scoot out of the beam of light, and my stomach swoops all over again as I slip backward. Grasping on to the rusted frame, I yank myself upright.
“Just wait there. Nice and easy,” a male voice drawls over the bullhorn speaker.
“Where the hell else am I supposed to go?” I rest my head against the cold metal and let my eyes slip closed. I’m so tired. Like I’ve lived a thousand years in the last two hours. An eternity in the last six months.
“Stay right there, Case. Hold on tight. A fire truck is on the way.”
My eyes snap open. Sure enough, I can see the flashing lights of a fire truck in the distance, closing in. Then the front doors of the farmhouse open, and the backlit forms of several people rush out into the chilly night.
“Great.” I reach for another bottle out of the cardboard holder. Don’t want it to go to waste. Dr Pepper was our thing. Two kids on the rodeo circuit trying to be cool and look older than we were. Glass bottles that could clink like the real thing. Ironically, intoxicated me, the one who ran out of his own house party an hour ago and decided tonight was the night to cross something wild off Walker’s list, was the one who chose the soda.
Had to do the thing properly.
This venture was screwed from the start is what I am saying.
A familiar snort echoes into the silent night. Walker’s back.
“That was fast.” I raise an eyebrow, and the idiot manages to look smug. He should. Heaven had better be one massive sexcapade for him or I’m canceling religion. “This seems a bit overkill. Policeandfire trucks?” I gesture wildly to the commotion below with my free arm. A frigid gust whistles through, nearly knocking off my worn Dallas Cowboys hat. I tighten my hold, looping both arms on either side of the ladder.
“Keep as still as you can, Case!” the officer shouts. “Help is on the way. We’re all here for you. I’ve called your dad.”
I groan at Walker, who’s kicking his boots out over the edge, pleased as fuck. “You realize they think I’m suicidal. Dick,” I add. I tend to cuss more at Ghost Walker than I did at Living Walker.
His dark brows arch in a silent question.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. “No,” I say. “Definitely not. I don’t want to live like this anymore, but I don’t want to die. I just… fuck, man.You’rethe one who made the list.” And he’s the one who got too sick before he could accomplish anything on it. So he left it to me.
“Case! We’re coming up. Just hold on until someone can secure you.”
“Okay!” I yell. I accidentally drop the Dr Pepper I’ve been holding. It sails down and lands with a muffled clatter. Another one bites the dust. “Oops. Sorry!” I think I hear the echo of Walker’s airy laugh, but when I look, he’s gone again and I’m alone.
Always alone.
A firefighter is climbing the ladder toward me, and I swallow hard. I hope he doesn’t fall. That would suck. But withinmoments, I’m secured with a clip, and both the firefighter and I are descending toward the ground. I try to hop down the last two rungs, but my boot slips on an icy patch and I fall straight on my ass.
Fuckingow.
“Christ, are you drunk?” comes a voice from the crowd.
“Dad?” I croak. Great. Just great.
Case Benton Michaels Jr. rocks on booted heels, his hands casually slung in the pockets of his sport coat like he’s assessing the going rate for grass-fed longhorns and not his only son’s life. Likely pulled from some business mixer or other, where “the whiskey is expensive, and talk is cheap.”
Kerry, our live-in housekeeper, is a few steps behind him and still in her robe. I’m warmed by the fact she, at least, was in a hurry. She surges forward, but once she’s assured I’m in one piece, any concern that might’ve been on her face melts into something that looks a lot like disappointment.
“I think I broke my ass?” I offer with a wince, almost like an apology. Like,I know I was stupid and climbed a corn silo, but on the bright side, I hurt my tailbone so… look! Consequences.
“What the hell are you thinking, Case? You could have died,” my dad grumbles.
“I think that was the point,” the officer murmurs under his breath.
“No! No,” I repeat, irritated. “That wasnotthe point.” The firefighter helps me up, removing the clip, and I rub at my rear with a grimace.
“What was the point, then?” Kerry asks, her tone slightly strangled. It slices me to the quick, adding to the hundreds of guilt–paper cuts gouging my skin. I swallow back my sigh.
