Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“Caleb!” I faintly hear shouted from behind me, but the agonizing pain in my chest won’t release me long enough to focus on it.

I stand immobile in the middle of the hallway as the images of Emma bleeding out hold me hostage.

“Jones!” I finally recognize Brett’s voice and his fingers snapping in front of me.

I manage to get out only one sentence before the potential devastation levels me. “I can’t lose her.”

My legs give way as I crash to my knees. I bargain with every possible god in the universe to let her live or, at the very least, take me with her.

“It’s okay. She’s going to be okay,” He begins to frantically repeat.

“Come on, Caleb.” I hear Jesse’s Tinker Bell voice in my ear as I’m practically dragged into a waiting room.

“This isn’t happening. Please, someone wake me up,” I beg as this all-too-familiar feeling strangles me.

Everything moves in fast forward around me as I sit rooted to a chair in the middle of a hospital. I’ve been here before, only this time, I’m responsible. Why the fuck was I driving so fast?

I look over to Brett and say words that only an hour ago sent fire through my system. Now they seem inconsequential. Who cares who was driving? The result will always be the same.

“Casey was driving the night of the wreck. Eli helped her leave unnoticed.”

“What?” He looks at me like I’ve obviously lost it.

“We’ll talk about it later. I don’t even care anymore. I just need this entire nightmare to stop. It’s like a chain of events that were set into motion just to destroy me. And if anything happens to Emma, I have no doubt it will.”

Brett squeezes my shoulder reassuringly but says nothing else.

Time passes, but that’s all I know for sure. I don’t have a clue how long it’s been or if that’s a good sign or a bad one. I know that Jesse never leaves my side. She’s been holding my hand since I sat down. At some point, I remember Sarah and Casey showing up and Brett storming over to them. I just block it all out. Occasionally I catch sight of Brett pacing around us. And regardless how much I will it to stop, the world still spins beneath me.

“Emma Jones?” a nurse announces, and it has me springing to my feet.

“Yes!” I quickly rush over to her, Sarah hot on my heels.

“Are you immediate family?” she asks, and much to my surprise, it’s Sarah who answers first.

“I’m her sister, and he’s her husband.”

I turn with silent gratitude. She offers me only a small nod.

“Follow me.”

“Please. You have to give me something here. Is she okay?” I beg.

“She will be,” she says with a warm smile.

Tears finally flood my eyes as I fight to keep some semblance of composure. I stumble backwards, but Brett grabs my arm to stop me from planting my ass in the middle of the floor. She’s alive. Emma’s heart is still beating. That’s all that matters—

“What about Collin? I mean…the baby. What about the baby?” I ask as fear creeps back into my throat.

“He’s great. Little small, but he’ll be okay too. Come on. We’ll stop at the nursery to see him first while they finish up with Mom.”

“Oh God. They’re okay. They’re both okay?” I ask again because I need to hear it one more time before I can trust it.

“Everyone’s okay,” Brett says, gripping the back of my neck and trying to catch my eyes. “Get it together. You have a son. Don’t make his first memory you crying like a puss. They’re both okay,” he reiterates.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I try to shake it off, but I know that, until I lay eyes on Emma and Collin, I won’t be able to relax.

“Let’s go meet your son, Mr. Jones.” She leads the way down the maze of halls. After stopping at a nurse’s desk, she wraps a plastic hospital bracelet on my arm. “That is the key to your son. Don’t take it off, don’t lose it, and you will be just fine.” She smiles over at us both.

“Will I be able to see him too?” Sarah asks from behind me.

“Well, now that is up to Mr. Jones. All visitors must be accompanied by a parent. So as long as he gives the A-Okay, we can go back now.”

Forgiveness is a very abstract term. It doesn’t erase the past. It’s not a magical switch you can flip or a stained rug you can just turn over. It’s merely a scar that covers the deep, dark gash that hate carved in your soul. I forgave Sarah months ago for something, it turns out, she never did, but it didn’t delete the years of hate and loathing I once felt. I’m not sure Sarah and I will ever be close. And even though the rational side of my mind says that I should be begging for forgiveness from her, my stubborn heart isn’t there yet. However, the most amazing woman I have ever met once told me that a first step is better than no step at all.

“Yeah, of course she can see him,” I answer, catching Sarah’s eyes with a tender nod.