Last Good Man (A Crown Creek Standalone)

by Theresa Leigh

  A faint patter of raindrops smeared across the windshield again. The rain was picking up. Grunting, I flicked on the wipers. Then turned on the high beams. Liam always said the LED headlights on my truck were obnoxious, but they cut through the sudden rainstorm like a knife, lighting up Ed Cutter's cornfield like it was daytime. They were so bright that a reflected flash of white almost blinded me, and I slowed automatically. "The fuck is that?" I said aloud.

  ‘That’ was a shape, slumped and crumpled, half on the shoulder and half in the high grass alongside it. "Oh for fuck's sake," I admonished myself, because it was clearly the white belly of a roadkill deer that had scared me. I was sure of it.

  Almost sure of it.

  But I was suddenly slowing to a halt anyway. I felt stupid as hell opening my driver's side door to check on what was clearly roadkill. And I felt even stupider when the lashing rain hit my face. "Aw for fuck's sake," I growled again and slammed the door shut. And looked again.

  "Aw shit." I was jogging, then running. My stomach lurched because the closer I got to the body, the harder it got to convince myself it was a deer. Deer don't have hands. Deer don't have fingers splayed to the sky. Deer don't wear jeans and a white hoodie. A white hoodie I'd seen earlier tonight.

  I stopped short. Skidded. Then sank to my knees. "Oh my God. Willa? Willa!?!"

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Four

  Cooper

  She wasn't waking up.

  Panicked, I touched her face, then felt for a pulse at her neck. It thumped there, weak but steady. Relief flooded me so fast I almost lost my balance. "Willa? Willa, Jesus, it's raining like a bitch out here. Wake up!" Her head lolled a little when I shook her, and I jerked my hand back. "Willa, wake the fuck up!"

  Nothing.

  Her face was bone-white except for the stark red river of blood that ran from a terrible gash on her forehead. The bleeding had spread all the way down to her white hoodie, mixing with the rainwater so that the fabric was now dyed a lurid pink. Already the gash was swelling, dragging her eyebrow up with it into a sardonic sneer that looked nothing like her usual smugly neutral expression. That expression was the one I was used to seeing across the big table from me every Thursday night at the Crown Tavern. That expression of hers was so annoying. But I'd gotten pretty comfortable with getting annoyed by it. To see her familiar face so utterly changed....

  I had to swallow back the bile that rose from my stomach. "Jesus... Willa...." She looked so small and broken, I could hardly believe this was the same girl who’d gotten in my face less than an hour ago. I’d hated her.... But I never thought... never wanted…

  “Jesus, you didn’t deserve this.”

  Desperate, and not one-hundred percent sure of what I was doing, I unzipped her hoodie to grunt at the bright red scrape across her chest. I lifted her shirt, meaning to keep checking her for injuries. Then stopped when I caught a glimpse of the white lace on her bra. My face heated up. "Fuck." I turned my attention to her legs, pressing my fingers down them as I watched her face.

  No grimaces. Her legs weren't broken. I brushed my hand down her left arm and then yanked it away like I'd been stung when I saw the odd way her forearm twisted. Her wrist was fucked. She must have landed on it, I thought. When she got hit.

  A bright flash and then the rumble of thunder. When she got hit. I stood up and glared down the road as if it would give a clue as to who did this. But the night was dark and silent but for the storm.

  She was walking home because of you. The flutter of guilt in my belly was a gut punch now. You could have given her a ride.

  You promised you’d keep her safe.

  "Shit." I dropped back down to my knees again and stared at her. Was the rest of her face swollen? Was her jaw messed up or did she always look like that? I'd known her my whole life, but I didn't know her well enough to answer that question. She looks like she could be sleeping. Except for the blood everywhere.

  "Shit." I knelt down, barely noticing the rain soaking my jeans, and moved to pick her up, then stopped myself. What if she had a spinal injury? "Shit." I scrambled at my pocket until my phone was in my hands and dialed 9-1-1, the words spilling out of me even before the dispatcher could speak. "I'm on the side of the road... she's been hit... not waking up..." I took a deep breath and tried to collect my spinning thoughts. "She needs an ambulance, fast! Please hurry!"

  The gap between when I called for help and when it finally came screaming down the rain-washed road seemed to stretch on forever. But when I heard that piercing wail, I stood up and rushed to my truck to flick those obnoxious high beams to signal our location.

  "What happened?" An EMT leaped down from the driver's seat and sprinted to Willa.

  I dragged my hand down my face. "I found her. She was walking home, and someone hit her and left her like this."

  "Miss? Miss?" He knelt down next to her. “What's her name?"

  "Willa."

  "Willa? Willa, can you hear me?"

  I winced as they jostled her onto a stretcher. "Careful, she's bruised! Her wrist... I think her arm might be broken. And her head, watch her head!"

  "Sir, we're going to take care of her, but you need to step back and give us space."

  Nodding, I took a dutiful step back and shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from balling my fists in frustration. "Is she going to be okay?"

  He was speaking into his radio, not hearing me.

  I promised she’d get home safe.

  “Is she going to be okay?" My stomach twisted as they bundled her into the back of the ambulance. "Wait, don't close it!" I leaped forward. "I'm coming with you."

  "Sir, we only allow family members to ride in the back."

  Guilt was a knife-stab now. Willa looked crumpled like a wadded up piece of paper. I hated her, but I didn't want this. "You have to let me come!" My voice caught, and I choked. I looked at her again. "I am family."

  The EMT waited for me to elaborate. I swallowed. "She's my girlfriend." When he didn't react, I kept going. "Fiancée. Please. She's my fiancée!" My voice caught as I looked at her again. "Sweetheart, I'm here. I'm right here, don't worry."

  A blink, and then a curt nod as he moved to the side.

  My heart was thudding so hard I could feel it everywhere in my body as I stepped up and into that brightly lit cab.

  But when I looked at Willa, I nodded. I owed Liam this. I owed her this. ”You're okay, baby," I chanted. In my haze of anxiety and guilt, it was surprisingly easy to call her that. "Here we go, babe, we're getting started right now." The ambulance doors shut with a slam, and we started moving. "You're okay, sweet girl. I'm right here."

  I reached out and slipped my hand over hers as the EMTs started an IV. Her fingers were long, her nails bitten. I'd known her almost twenty years, ever since kindergarten, and this was the first time I'd ever even noticed her hands, much less touched them. She had a freckle on her wrist and another one at the tip of her index finger. The cuff of her white hoodie was ragged and damp and probably cold on her skin. I moved to roll it up.

  Her eyelids fluttered. Then opened. She blinked in confusion at the ceiling and then zeroed in on me. "Cooper?"

  I nearly leaped to my feet. She was alive. She was talking. That meant she was going to be okay. "Yeah," I choked. "I'm here, baby. Here I am."

  She narrowed her eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  "Seriously?” I exploded. “I saved your life!"

  I snapped my mouth shut when the EMT gave me a look. Willa was glaring at me like she wanted to kill me with her eyes. I held my breath, ready for her to sell me out. What the fuck was I doing here? I was here assuaging my guilty conscience. And covering my ass. I rode in the ambulance, I pictured myself explaining to Liam. I made sure she was taken care of. Don't worry man, I handled it. By the way she was staring at me, it seemed like she knew that's what it was.

  But then her eyes softened, and her mouth went slack. "Painkillers," the EMT explained as Will
a drifted to sleep. Then turned to me with an amused expression on his face. "Trouble in paradise?"

  I blew out a relieved exhale. "We had a fight," I explained. "Before." Embellishing on the lie. "She stormed out and started walking home. I followed her."

  "Good man." He nodded approvingly. "She's lucky to have you."

  I nodded and looked at the girl on the stretcher. There was a softness around her lips now that was never there when she was awake. I tried to conjure my usual irritation and mistrust of her, but it was hard to feel anything but worry for the soft-lipped girl in front of me. Even remembering the night before prom, and how I'd caught her cheating on my best friend, wasn't enough for me to remember how to hate her. "She is," I agreed. “I’m lucky too.” Then smiled like how I figured an engaged man would smile.

  Fuck. Liam was going to kill me.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Five

  Cooper

  Mrs. Harlow was still in the uniform she wore at the Royal Diner. I looked twice at the little boy in too short pajamas rubbing his eyes at her side and realized with a start that he was Jacob Harlow. Willa's baby brother Jakey was a kid now. How old was he? Seven? Eight? His hand sure looked better than it did when he was a toddler.

  I stood up as soon as they came into the waiting area, but Mrs. Harlow's eyes slid right over me and landed on a passing nurse. "My daughter? We got a call that she was here? Willa Harlow?" Her eyes were red-rimmed, but no tears were falling. I got the feeling that she was holding it together for the little boy.

  "Yes, her fiancé brought her in."

  "Fiancé?" Mrs. Harlow's head whipped past me again as she scanned the room for the phantom fiancé.

  Slowly, sheepishly I raised my hand. "That's me." I tried to smile. "Hey."

  "Cooper Grant?" Her mouth fell open. "You and Willa are..?"

  "I found her on the side of the road," I interrupted, intentionally derailing her train of thought. "She was unconscious, but woke up in the ambulance for a second and recognized me." And swore at me, I didn't add. I looked over to see that the nurse was finding things to do that kept her within earshot and chose my words carefully. "I've been talking with the doctors, she's got a head injury, definitely a concussion, and will probably need some pins in her wrist, but she's okay, Mrs. Harlow."

  She sagged when I said that, then stumbled a little, her confusion over who I was to her daughter forgotten in her relief she was alive. I caught her up and hugged her, and she squeezed me in a surprisingly strong embrace. "Thank God you were there," she babbled. "Thank God."

  Thank God. Another wave of gut-cramping guilt washed over me, and it was only Mrs. Harlow's grip on me that kept me from turning and sprinting back to Willa's room just to check on her one more time. Touching her, checking her breathing, feeling her pulse, had almost become a compulsion, and having her out of my sight - even though she was mere feet away on the other side of the wall - had my heart racing with anxiety.

  But I said nothing, only patted Mrs. Harlow's back and then rubbed my hand in what I hoped were soothing, future-son-in-law worthy circles. The lie I'd told to stay with Willa during the ambulance ride had snowballed out of control once we arrived at the hospital. It was like a game of telephone at light speed, passing so fast I couldn't stop it. Every person who told the story seemed to add yet another embellishing detail that I could barely keep up with. People were coming up to me out of nowhere, wanting to talk to the tragic hero who'd saved his fiancée’s life and now refused to leave her side.

  I pulled back from the hug and nodded at Mrs. Harlow. "It's okay," I declared, because that seemed like a neutral enough thing to say. I'd explain later, I reasoned. I was in too deep to start backtracking now. "Could you come with me though?"

  She nodded, looking shell-shocked, then glanced down at Jakey, whose exhausted, worried face looked so much like his sister's. "I'll watch him," I promised. Like any good son-in-law would, I figured. "If you could just talk to the detective?"

  Mrs. Harlow stumbled in the direction of the detective assigned to Willa's case.

  When he first arrived, he'd made a beeline towards me wanting to know all about the fight that had led her to storm away from me and down a dark road. I was relieved when he'd accepted my stammered protests that I could barely even remember anymore, "It seems so stupid now, you know?" but then found myself tripping over the simple stuff. "Where does she work?" I wracked my brain. "Part-time at the cafe," I declared triumphantly. "Because she has to be home when her brother gets home from school. She's a really devoted big sister." And to my numb surprise, I'd smiled when I said it, feeling a rush of proud affection for her for the very first time.

  But after that initial triumph, I tripped up on simple things. Her height. "Five three? Maybe?" Her weight. "Tiny?" Her eye color. "Brown... ish?" So when her mother showed up, I was relieved to hand off those questions to someone who'd know for sure. So I could go back to waiting for her to get out of surgery. Waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for a moment where I could get her alone so I could confess my lies, my guilt. And she could maybe forgive me?

  I sat back down and cradled my head in my hands, ready to settle in for the duration. I looked at Jakey and smiled wanly, but he was half asleep, slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs in a position that only a kid could find comfortable. He was resting his good hand over the scarred one, I noticed. Like he was hiding it from me. Which made sense since as far as he knew I was a stranger. But that wasn’t quite true. “Seven," I blurted.

  He stirred. "Hmm?"

  "You're seven years old, right?"

  He shook his head tiredly. “Eight. And three quarters.”

  "I remember when you were born," I heard myself say.

  He blinked. Politeness won out over his confusion and he sat up a little. "Cool." He made eye contact - the kind of eye contact Willa always made, the kind she demanded, and I always avoided because I knew it pissed her off - for a second, but it was two in the morning and he was still a little kid. His eyes closed even as he was sitting upright, and when his head started to bob, I dragged myself up out of my numb stupor just in time to catch it before he cracked it on the back of his chair.

  "Here you go." I guided him as he snuffled sleepily until he was propped against the cold metal armrest.

  I watched him for a minute as his breathing settled into a regular rhythm and his clenched hands relaxed, then let go of each other, and I couldn’t help but sneak a look at his left hand. From this angle, it didn’t look all that different from his right one except for the color. But the way the fingers curled, how they were permanently frozen like he was making a clawing motion. That was hard to hide.

  I swallowed, then looked around, feeling guilty that I had nothing to pillow his head with. His mom might, in her bag or something - moms always seemed to have that shit available - but she was still back with the doctors.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again immediately before sleep could take hold. You promised.

  I took another look at Willa's sleeping brother. His skin was darker than her paleness, but they both had the same long fringe of dark lashes. Something unfamiliar was happening in my chest. A tugging. Like I was being pulled but from all directions. I needed to stay here with Jakey because I promised Willa's mother I would watch him. But I also needed to know what was happening behind those doors. Was she okay? How badly was she hurt? Would she heal properly? Or would she always have pain from this?

  Pain she could have avoided if I'd just given her a fucking ride home. As promised.

  I turned, paced a tight circle and then slumped against the wall. The minutes ticked by, slowly. Slow enough that I had time to examine every moment of this hellish night in minute detail. The rain, the corn... the white shape on the side of the road. The stained pink hoodie, the blood on her cheek.

  The way she had woken and demanded to know what I was doing.

  What was I doing? I had no idea. All I knew was that I
was here for the duration. Until it was done. Until I could see that she was okay. Until I’d kept my promise.

  An unseen clock ticked. A nurse padded by on quick quiet feet. Jake snuffled again, then mumbled something in his sleep. But all I heard was the voice in my head, apologizing over and over again.

  Shit, Willa. I am so, so sorry.

  * * *

  Chapter

  Chapter Six

  Willa

  A dream slid into waking and I blinked. My throat was raw and on instinct, I reached for the glass of water I always kept at my bedside. But instead of feeling the brush of my knuckles against the cool glass, I felt a sting in my hand like a biting fly and then a strange tug on my skin.

  What the hell?

  "You're awake!"

  I blinked again and this time my eyes made it open all the way. There was an IV taped to my left hand. A woman, strong and severe, her hair scraped back into a ponytail so tight it lifted the corners of her eyes, was standing next to my... bed? Was I in a bed?

  I tried to look around, but a bright burst of pain slammed my eyes shut again. I gritted my teeth, searching my body for answers, but all I got in reply was more pain. Every breath was agony, my head was thudding and something near my hand felt acutely... wrong.

  I forced my eyes open again to see the woman had moved closer. She looked down at me, and I held my breath, frightened.

  Until her face broke out into a wide, kind smile. "You're looking for him? He's been right there all morning. He's not going to be too happy to hear you finally woke up when he went down to the cafeteria."

  * * *