Make Me Stay (Arizona Heat Book 2)

by Katie Douglas

  What had happened to them all? Had they found somewhere to put roots down and started a life? Had they disappeared into the sunset one day? Married? Had kids? Upgraded to a yacht? Even though I knew how much a working, modernized Early Bay T2 could sell for, it was difficult to visualize a van like this parked beside a white picket fence.

  Would the headlights dim in disappointment when we had a family and bought a car? Some sort of minivan with side airbags and room for a car seat, parked in the driveway like a reliable and safety-conscious mistress being paraded in front of my first love. That final moment, when the dust cover was pulled over the T2 like a death shroud, and everyone completely forgot about it in favor of dogs, kids, yard sales and PTA meetings.

  Oh, no. I’d let myself think about where things with Barrett might be heading, instead of living in the moment. My brain screamed at me that I didn’t want this life—couldn’t possibly want it. This wasn’t me.

  Suddenly, I felt like I was trapped in a bubble that was shrinking around me, suffocating me, forcing me into one path, one life, only one possible ending to this domestic bliss with Barrett. The thought made me want to hurl. I couldn’t do it. This was too much to ask of anyone.

  I put the key in the ignition and turned it sideways, pumping the gas pedal as I did, to get the juice flowing, and pulling on the choke, trying not to rush things and spook the car. Please, engine, don’t fail me now.

  Throwing the van into reverse, I backed out of the parking spot, watching Barrett’s house get smaller until I had space to do a three-point turn and then, in my mirror, I saw him run out of the house, throw up his hands for a second before he slumped, looking destroyed.

  Stop! A voice inside my mind screamed. You can stop right now and go back, park the van like nothing ever happened, and finish your cozy evening.

  My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I was bumping over the uneven dirt road and I didn’t care. This was too close. I needed to run free.

  Chapter 8

  “Tuesday’s gone with the wind. My woman’s gone with the wind. Train roll on.” — Lynyrd Skynyrd, Tuesday’s Gone

  Barrett

  She left me. I’d gone out to help her with carrying laundry, and now I stood outside my house watching the van drive away. Her departure was so unexpected that I waited until the dust her tires had thrown up settled back to the ground again, and I still waited. Watching the empty space where she’d been a moment ago.

  It was several minutes before I was able to stop staring at dust and trudge over to Clay’s. I banged on the door.

  “You coming up for air?” he teased. Everyone on the ranch knew Harper had been staying here, and perhaps I’d vanished into my house a little more than usual. All right, a lot more. But I was in no mood for banter and I couldn’t pretend I was fine.

  “She’s gone.” My voice cracked as I said it.

  Clay’s face changed and he held the door open for me. “Beer.”

  I nodded. He led the way to his fridge and got me one out. I opened it with my teeth and took a deep drink.

  “Spill. How’d you screw up?” Clay asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. She said today was laundry day, so I offered the use of our washing machines. She went out to get her laundry from the van. I went out to help her and she was already driving off.”

  “No argument?” Clay leaned close and sniffed me. “You don’t smell bad, so that can’t be it.”

  I had to laugh a little when he did that.

  “Maybe she’s just gone to the store for something.” Clay’s tone implied he didn’t believe that theory any more than I did. There was no point refuting it because the excuse was just too flimsy.

  We sat in silence for a long while, just sipping beer.

  “Where’s she from, anyhow?”

  “New Hampshire.”

  Clay whistled through his teeth. “How long’s she been on the road?”

  “Long. Months? Years? I don’t know.” A chasm threatened to engulf me as I realized I knew almost nothing about her.

  “Where’s she headed?”

  I shook my head. “She never said. Got prickly when I first brought it up, so I didn’t ask again.”

  Clay frowned and took a deep drink. “So you’re telling me you don’t know anything about her?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Does she know anything about you?”

  “Probably not much.” This wasn’t looking salvageable, when he put it like that.

  “But you two have barely been apart this past week. What have you been doing?”

  I grinned at the memories we’d made, sweet for a moment before the pain of loss marred them. “Fucking like bunnies.”

  “Sounds like it was a vacation romance,” Clay pronounced.

  I shook my head. “She was special; we had a connection.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No idea. But it was like something inside us worked on such a deep level, none of that shit mattered.”

  “Did she know about you and—”

  “Nope.” I interrupted that question before I had to contemplate why I hadn’t told Harper my biggest secret. I couldn’t stand to think about the woman who had ruined my life when I was younger.

  “And now she’s gone.”

  I nodded. I knew what Clay was getting at, but I wasn’t ready to accept the stark truth, yet.

  “I know what’ll make you feel better. It’s a hell of a drive, but I found a bar attached to a very exclusive members-only club.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to go to no strip club, Clay.”

  “This ain’t a strip club.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s Apocalypse, man.”

  I punched him in the arm and shook my head. “I heard of that place. A BDSM complex somewhere on old Route 66.” I paused for a moment to calculate distance. “That’s at least four hours from here.”

  “Sure is.”

  “Clay.” I fixed him with a look that implied I was the responsible adult right now. “I’m not making an eight-hour round trip to go get a beer, and I’m sure as hell not wealthy enough to pay membership fees.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Your loss.”

  “Wait... you got a membership?”

  He nodded. “They have rooms. I like to stay for the weekend sometimes. I’m allowed a guest.”

  “Figures.” I took another swig of beer.

  “Hey, I know I don’t want a normal girl. I’ve always been a cherry coke kinda guy. From the sounds I’ve been hearing when I’ve walked past your place, lately, you’re not so vanilla yourself. I thought tying up a sweet submissive and flogging her tits might cheer you up.”

  “Maybe some other time. This is just too raw, y’know? I’m in more of a fishing trip mood than a club mood.”

  “Why don’t we take tomorrow off and head up to Lake Pleasant?”

  That sounded good. “Think Lawson can handle things by himself?”

  “Last time we left him and Jake, Lawson found a girlfriend. Maybe this time he can find Jake one.”

  We both chuckled at the idea of any woman lassoing our horse guy. Jake really wasn’t a people-person.

  Harper

  Just go to the highway, turn around and come back, the voice urged me. You can tell him you were making sure the engine had been used lately.

  That sounded like a good plan. But when I reached the highway, there were cars coming and I had to signal and turn. Before I knew it, I was driving on asphalt, keeping up with the other traffic, and moving further away from Lemon Tree Ranch, from the future that had been pressing in on me. Tears clouded my vision then poured down my cheeks; my throat tightened and my chest squeezed, as I tried to handle the van.

  I’d never felt so out of control as I did at that moment. Not even after my dad had died, when I was seventeen. Today, I had broken something beautiful, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d done it. Barrett had made me happy. There wa
s nothing wrong with the ranch or the life he had. More than that, I didn’t understand why my mind had jumped ahead to dogs and kids and white picket fences, when we’d only spent a week together and I didn’t even know which type of hamburgers he liked best.

  A dirty feeling permeated my whole body. Shame, that I’d tried so hard to stop myself from running but somehow my body had taken on a life of its own and now I was on the highway. Guilt, from the knowledge that I’d let down someone who had believed I could do better. Stupidity, for being taken in by my own worst thoughts. I couldn’t face him again, now. He’d seen too much. He knew how broken I was under the surface.

  I was an addict, and running away was my drug. There was no way I’d be able to live with seeing him again after he’d glimpsed the real me. My true self couldn’t stay still. I was incapable of putting down roots. Settling down terrified me more than anything in the universe.

  I tried to breathe. This was the first time in years that I’d just driven in a random direction without looking at a map or at my phone’s GPS, and I seemed to be having a panic attack at the same time. It didn’t seem like a great combination.

  The airlessness got worse as I pulled onto the first interstate I saw, and even the sign telling me the distance to Blythe, California didn’t ease the panic. I wanted to hurl still. The tears were drying on my face and I wanted to blow my nose, but I had moved my box of tissues at some point and they weren’t within arm’s reach on the passenger seat where I usually kept them.

  Everything felt wrong. Rushed. Mismatched. Something deep inside me felt jarred. I was so tired, I just wanted to rest, but I needed to keep moving because I was still too close to what might have been a home.

  If I pulled into a truck stop now, I was in danger of going back.

  Imagining his face when he’d watched me suddenly drive away tore my heart into fresh pieces. I’d never wanted to hurt him. I’d just gotten caught up in the beautiful possibility of staying with him forever, until something inside me had risen up to fight it.

  Fresh tears flooded my eyes and I almost didn’t see the stupid Prius in front of me when it braked suddenly. Its red lights blinded me and slowed down my reactions as my instincts were torn between closing my eyes to block out the bright LEDs and realizing I needed to slow down quickly. I was too close to stop in time. I swerved out into the fast lane. A truck horn blasted through my soul, then something slammed into me with such explosive force I was sure I was going to die.

  The impact shocked me so much, I barely felt the pain, although I watched through the windshield as my van—my home, my life, my freedom—rolled over and over, glass breaking into smaller pieces. Trapped inside, I was battered and thrown around.

  The van stopped. I was upside down. The pain in my body was unimaginable. Taking breaths was too hard and blood dripped everywhere.

  I was going to die here, on this stupid interstate where no one would even be able to identify my body because I was just an invisible drifter. It was as much as I deserved, right now. But I’d give anything in the world to see Barrett just one last time. To tell him I was sorry. To tell him I loved him.

  Barrett

  That beer had worn off and Clay had cooked bacon sandwiches. I wasn’t a great fan of eating breakfast for dinner, but I needed the company.

  We were eating our third sandwich each when the news came on. Footage of an old VW Campervan being hit by a rig. The tiny camper rolled over the road, battered and destroyed. The truck jackknifed into a Prius and toppled onto it. The wreckage leftover.

  “The I-10 Eastbound has been closed at Centennial since the incident, with traffic backed up for thirty miles toward Phoenix. If you’re headed for California, you might wanna wait this one out, folks.”

  A burning pain knotted in my chest. I think I forgot to breathe.

  “That looks like—” Clay began, slowly.

  “Don’t say it. Where’s the nearest hospital to that place?”

  “Phoenix.”

  The information swarmed around me like angry bees that I couldn’t catch.

  “There’s too many hospitals in Phoenix! How do I find her?” I couldn’t think straight. Harper was... no. I shook my head and tried to breathe slower.

  “Sit down.” Clay’s authoritative voice cracked across the room. He put his food down and went to the landline. His tone softened when he next spoke. “Hey, is Sheriff Bob there, please?”

  Of course. Snake Eye’s sheriff would be able to find out what happened. I should have thought of that. I needed to pull myself together. Had to be strong for her.

  “Hey Bob, can you find out about that incident on Centennial for me, please? The girl driving the VW...” he lowered his voice but I still heard him. “Did she make it?”

  If the answer was no, I didn’t think I could bear to hear it right now.

  “Know which hospital they took the crash victims to?” Clay wrote on the telephone pad. I just stared at my sandwich until the call was over.

  “C’mon. I’ll drive.” Clay was taking charge and I needed that right now.

  “Is she...?”

  “Bob didn’t know. But he told me where they took all the survivors. You’re going to have a hell of a time finding her without knowing her last name.”

  I watched the road disappear under the nose of the truck as Clay drove at seventy-five until we hit the outskirts of the city. Every stop sign, every traffic light and every old man driving at twenty made me want to honk the horn and yell at the universe. Instead, I sat in silence.

  Clay parked at the hospital and led the way to the main reception.

  “Hey there... Angela,” he began, giving her the same sort of smile that made good girls drop their panties for Blake Shelton despite knowing he was married.

  The receptionist dropped her pen and smiled shyly.

  “Hi, how are you?” she demurred.

  “I’m real good thanks, how are you?”

  Okay, I wanted to move this thing along. My fists clenched at my sides.

  “I’m real good, too. How can I help you?” Her voice was breathy and it was written all over her face that she knew a supply closet near here that no one used.

  “Our friend was brought in earlier. One of the crash victims. Harper. Any idea where she is?”

  “You family?”

  “She’s my sister,” Clay said smoothly.

  “We got a Jane Doe brought in from the pile-up.”

  Clay frowned and nodded. “Bleach blonde hair. Light brown eyes. About five-four?”

  “That’s her. She’s in room four-eleven. The elevator’s that way.” The receptionist licked her lips and held Clay’s gaze a little too long. “Let me know if you need anything at all.”

  He touched his hat and cocked his head. I think I just watched her face twitch as she flooded her panties.

  We hurried to the elevator.

  “Is this how you do things?” I asked him.

  “Only when it’s an emergency. You could have asked her the normal way, but then she wouldn’t have had any reason to help us.”

  “You led her on.”

  Clay shook his head. “I might come back and get her number in a moment.”

  I shook my head. Unbelievable.

  On the fourth floor, we found Harper’s room. There was no one around so we just went in.

  I wailed in agony when I saw her.

  “She’s...” My eyes were looking at her but I couldn’t properly take in what I was seeing. Deeply swollen, almost-black bruises all over her face made her impossible to recognize as the girl I’d kissed a few hours ago.

  Her eyes were closed, and she was attached to a ventilator along with a bunch of other machines I didn’t recognize. One of her arms was in a cast and so was her leg.

  I rushed to her side and took the hand that wasn’t in a cast, lacing my fingers through hers.

  “I’m gonna stay with you, Harper. I’m not going to leave you. Not now I found you.”

  “I need to go get
that receptionist’s phone number.” Clay rattled out the excuse for leaving me alone with her. I grunted in acknowledgement but all my attention was on her. The battered, broken body of my beautiful hare.

  I couldn’t find any words, everything I wanted to say stuck in my throat, so I sat in silence, holding her hand.

  A nurse came in and frowned when she saw me.

  “Sir? You can’t be in here.”

  “I’m not leaving Harper.”

  “You know her?”

  “Her brother’s just gone for coffee. I’m his friend.”

  “Then maybe you can answer some questions.”

  She pulled out a pen and picked up a clipboard. “What’s her name?”

  “Harper Dale,” I lied. Dale was Clay’s last name.

  “Date of birth?”

  “Uh... I don’t know.”

  “How old is she?”

  It didn’t really matter. She almost certainly didn’t have insurance and no one else was coming to visit her. “She’s twenty-three,” I guessed.

  “What’s the name of her doctor?”

  “She isn’t registered with one.”

  The nurse gave me a look of disbelief, like everyone in the country should be running to a doctor every two minutes for non-issues to keep the medical industry well-fed with insurance claims.

  “She was found in her VW campervan because she travels a lot. Put her down for Clay’s and mine. Doctor Bergman. Gila Bend.”

  I think that was the exact moment I decided Harper was going to come back to Lemon Tree Ranch with me, no matter what she wanted.

  The nurse asked me a few more questions. I gave her our address for Harper’s. Clay returned at that moment and switched on the charm.

  “I’ve given her some of your sister’s details,” I told him. “Couldn’t remember her date of birth. Ninety-six or ninety-five?”