I finished just before ten and couldn’t wait to see Charlie. He’d be amazed when I told him I’d gotten through three of his books and couldn’t wait to tear into the fourth one. I got up, poured the last glass of lemonade for him, quickly made a fresh batch, just in case he wanted more, then went back out onto the porch.
Ten o’clock came and went. Ten thirty. Eleven. Noon.
My pulse quickened. He’d never been this late before, and my mind went over the possibilities. Maybe he’d been called into the library. Or he could have overslept because he’d been up late and gotten up too early the day before. But no matter what I told myself, none of those seemed plausible.
Panic gripped me, and I had no idea what to do. I tried calling his number, but it went to his voicemail. My voice shook horribly when I left a message. Then I recalled what he’d said about Clay. Being the sheriff, maybe Clay might know what was going on. His phone rang three times before he answered.
“Matt,” he breathed. “You okay?”
“Yes. No. No, I’m not.” I slid my hand through my hair as I struggled to maintain control. A battle I wouldn’t win. “I can’t get in touch with Charlie, and he hasn’t been by today. He comes by every day, but he didn’t today, and I’m worried.”
I heard him groan.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded. “I can hear it in your voice. Something’s wrong.”
“There was an accident yesterday morning.”
CHAPTER SIX
I BURST out laughing. I mean, Clay had done some mean stuff when we were growing up, but this was taking a joke way too goddamn far.
“Matt?”
I squeezed the phone as hard as I could. “Stop fucking lying to me!” I screamed. “Where’s Charlie?”
“I’m not lying, honey,” he soothed, his voice pitched low like he was talking to a mad dog. “I wish I were. His truck went off the road about four miles down from your place. Dale Jensen saw him go over the embankment. He went down about thirty feet, then hit a tree. I’m sorry, but Charlie’s in the hospital.”
I couldn’t draw a breath to speak. He’d been on his way home after dropping off the books. It was my fault. I did this to him. I—
“It’s not your fault, Matthew,” Clay snapped.
There was no way to be certain if he knew me that well or if I had been rambling out loud. Either way, it didn’t matter. Trepidation filled my heart. I dreaded asking my next question, because if Clay didn’t give me a good answer, I would crumble into pieces, and this time I didn’t think anyone could put me back together. “Is he okay?”
You could have cut the tension with a knife. Clay stayed quiet too long, so I knew something bad had happened.
“He was lucky his airbag went off,” Clay said. “That probably saved his life.”
His attempt to placate me did no good. I could feel myself sliding over the precipice. My entire body shook at the thought of Charlie dying, alone at the bottom of the ravine. The images seared my brain, and it hurt to take in air. “Please, Clay….”
He cleared his throat. “I need you to breathe, Matt. Listen to what I’m telling you. He’s hurt, but he’ll be okay. He broke a couple ribs and his right leg, he’s got burns on his face, and he fractured one of his hands. He’s okay, though. Do you understand me, Matt? He’s going to be fine.”
I blew out a breath. I attempted to focus on him saying Charlie would be okay. “What’s going to happen to him?”
He hedged again. I hated it when he did that.
“His sister is coming down in a couple days to take him back to New York,” he answered slowly.
New York? No! I’d come to the decision that I wanted to try to be a better person, to see if maybe Charlie would… what? Overlook my weirdness? Yes, goddammit. That’s exactly what the dream had been. I wanted him to like me, even though I might not be his type. For the first time in years, I finally felt something that wasn’t fear or hurt or anger. I wanted to rage against the injustice, against how fucking unfair it was. Instead I simply said, “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Matt. So truly sorry. I thought—”
There wasn’t anything left to say. I hung up the phone, then ignored it when it started ringing again. For months I wanted to get rid of Charlie, make him go away so he couldn’t scare me. Now I found that him leaving frightened me even more. I’d be alone again. I fucking hated being alone.
I threw myself on the bed, tears staining my cheeks. I’d always thought of myself as strong because I didn’t need anyone. The lies we tell ourselves are the most damning ones of all, because after a time we start to believe them. The truth had always been too terrible to contemplate. My fears controlled me. It wasn’t what my teacher had done to me. Sure, he might have put me in the cell, but I’d locked the door behind me and thrown away the damn key. I had never been strong, not once since the incident. And though the idea forming in my head scared me to death, I would be strong today, because the alternative meant running for the rest of my life.
THE CAB honked its horn, and I sucked in a deep breath. For several moments I stared out my window and kept saying it wouldn’t be as bad as I imagined. But no matter what I told myself, I knew it would be.
During the whole trip, I huddled in the backseat, stomach in knots. I wanted—needed—to do this, but in my head, I saw only more problems, regardless of how the conversation went. The cab driver had been less than pleased when he had to drive all the way out to my place, but I’d given my lawyer permission to make it worth his while to chauffeur me around. Obviously it worked, since he’d picked me up.
Getting into the back of this man’s vehicle ranked up there with the toughest things I’d ever done. When the door opened and the stale air and sweaty body odor wafted out, I’d had to swallow back the bile that started to rise in my throat.
“Where you headed, kid?” he barked.
My heart hammered. Every instinct told me what I had set out to do would only cause me pain, but I had to try. For myself, as well as Charlie. “The hospital,” I replied quietly.
Even though Fall Harbor had less than a thousand people, the town’s hospital served the surrounding counties as well, making it a busy place all year round. When the cab pulled up, I got out before he’d even come to a complete stop. Knowing the fare had been paid, I rushed inside, hoping to feel more secure in an enclosed place.
The strong antiseptic smell stung my nose and made me sneeze. I hadn’t been to a hospital or doctor’s office since I’d moved. Fortunately, eating healthy had apparently been good for me, because other than a few colds and one nasty case of the flu where I still tried to force myself to get up and do my chores—that ended with me not having the strength to get out of bed and collapsing back onto it—I didn’t often get sick.
There were so many people bustling around, like little ants, that I wanted to run home. Tension caused my joints to ache, and my stomach knotted so hard it hurt. The only way I could put one foot in front of the other was to keep up a litany in my head that I was doing this for Charlie.
As I followed the signs to the desk, I thought I saw a few people I knew but didn’t have the desire to stop and talk to them. I had come for one thing, and once I had it, I’d hop back into the cab waiting to take me home.
“Can I help you?” the perky blond man—Aaron, according to his name tag—behind the counter asked.
“I’m looking for Charlie Carver’s room, please,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, what was that name?”
“Carver,” I repeated, spelling it out for him.
His fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him. “Okay, let’s see. Ah, here we go.” Then he frowned. “Are you family?”
“No, I—”
“Then I’m sorry, I can’t give you any information on the patient.”
I inhaled, then exhaled. This so wasn’t helping. “I don’t want information. I want to find his room so I can visit with him.”
Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me, sir,�
� he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “but we don’t allow nonfamily members to visit patients in the ICU.”
Intensive Care Unit? But Clay hadn’t said that. He told me Charlie would be fine. My breaths started coming faster, harsher. My eyes blurred, and it seemed like the room was spinning. Voices around me were garbled—nothing made sense. I reached for my phone, but couldn’t make out any of the buttons because my hands were shaking so hard. When someone grabbed me, I cried out and dropped to the floor, pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms around myself in a vain hope of protection.
Warm hands touched my face, but this time I had no strength to fight back. I’d tried and failed, and it had all fallen apart. I lay on the ground, sobbing, until a voice cut through the buzzing in my head.
“Matt? Matt!”
Someone picked me up and pulled me to their body. Warmth. Safety. I could feel myself being moved. Then, blessed silence. Someone held me, rocked me as they crooned a familiar song. It took me a few moments to recognize “All the Pretty Little Horses.” It was a song our mom used to sing to me and Clay when we were kids.
“You with me?”
The voice tugged at me, and I looked up into the gray eyes so very much like my own. “Clay…,” I croaked.
He had a watery smile, though I could see the anger in his eyes. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he groused. “How the hell did you even get here? You better not have walked, or so help me God, I will kick your ass.”
I swallowed hard. My throat hurt and my tongue felt swollen. “Wanted to see Charlie,” I whispered. “Didn’t know he was in ICU, and they won’t let me in.”
“In the… who the hell told you that?” he demanded.
“Guy at the desk said only family could get into the ICU. Why didn’t you tell me? He’s going to die, isn’t he?”
“Son of a….” Clay pulled my face so close to his I could smell spearmint on his breath. “Listen to me, Matt. Charlie is most definitely not in the ICU. When you calm down, we can go see him together, okay?”
“But he said—”
“He was wrong. I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that. Charlie is hurting, but he’s not dying.”
The tears wouldn’t stop. I had visions of Charlie laid out in the morgue, and my heart broke. Clay went back to singing the song, nearly rocking me. It helped me to get my breathing under control.
“How did you get here, Matt?” Clay asked sharply, drawing my attention back to him.
I blinked, then wiped my thumb and forefinger over my eyes. “I took a cab.”
“You left your house, got in a cab, and came here just so you could see Charlie?” I nodded, and Clay pulled me in for a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I know he’s going to be thrilled to find out you’re here.”
Clay helped me to my feet, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and held me close as we made our way to the elevators. It took three tries before we found one that didn’t have too many people on it. We got in, Clay never loosening his grip, which I appreciated. We walked down the hall, passed by the nurse’s station, and entered a room. I found myself equal parts relieved and horrified by the way Charlie looked. His face had bruises that were barely visible under the reddened skin. His leg had a bright blue wrap around it and had been slightly elevated. His hospital gown hung open, his bare chest on display, allowing me to see where he’d hit with enough force to bruise. What hurt the most was seeing his left hand in a cast. I couldn’t imagine a writer not having the use of one of his hands.
“He’s been asleep for a while. He’s been given some meds to help with that,” Clay whispered. “I need to file a report about the accident and make a few phone calls. I had been on my way down to get some information when they called about a disturbance. Didn’t know it was you. How about if you sit with him while I go take care of this stuff? I’ll stop and talk to the nurses and ask them to hold off on coming in here for now. Will that work?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off Charlie. My lungs ached less, seeing him with my own eyes. Clay directed me to the chair near the bed and helped me to sit down.
“Will you be okay if I’m gone for thirty minutes?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He leaned close, brushing back my hair, and once again laid a kiss on my forehead. “So proud of you, you just don’t know.”
Any other time the gesture would have annoyed me. In fact, I wouldn’t have allowed it. But right now, all I could do was say a silent prayer of thanks that Charlie was okay. I heard the door close, and then we were alone. Words filled my head, but I had no idea what to do with them. They all sounded stupid. Instead I reached out and gently touched his hand. The connection between us soothed my nerves, and my breath finally evened out.
Brown eyes fluttered open and Charlie glanced up at me. “Wow,” he whispered. “Must be getting the good drugs.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
He gave me a sloppy grin. “For a minute I thought you were really here.”
I smiled. Loopy Charlie seemed so different from the man I’d met. But I had to admit, just as adorable. “I am,” I answered.
He tried to turn, presumably to get a better look, then winced. I drew my hand back, but he caught it and held it in his. “Don’t pull away, Matt. You always pull away. I wish you wouldn’t.”
Butterflies tickled my belly as he gave a warm smile. “Okay. How do you feel?”
“Like I went over a cliff and hit a tree.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You did.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, I’m doing fine,” he said, giving me a goofy smile. “Even better since I know you’re really here.” He tugged my hand, causing me to lean forward. “Were you afraid when I didn’t show up?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice ragged. I squeezed his hand harder, then let it go. “I didn’t like it at all. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I left your place, and as I was headed back down the pass, a rabbit darted out in front of me. I swerved to avoid it, never thinking about the drop-off. I tried to turn away, but gravity is a bitch. As for my phone, I had it in my shirt pocket, so parts of it are probably embedded in my chest. I bought shirts with pockets because I thought they’d be handy for carrying things when I ran. I may need to think it through some more.”
I laughed and choked at the same time.
“Come here,” he said, raising his arm up a few inches.
There wasn’t even any hesitation. I needed proof he was okay, so I moved close. He wrapped his arm around me and gently pulled me into his embrace.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I told him.
“Just be gentle,” he replied. “Believe me, a hug is good medicine.”
It felt good to be held. I’d missed it so much. The discomfort still existed, but I pushed back against it as hard as I could. I wanted this more than I’d wanted anything in a long time. I was unable to hold back the tears, and they started to fall. Charlie rubbed my head while I cried. I tried to step back, but he curled his fingers in my hair and held me in place. My first instinct was to pull away, because this was too reminiscent of what my teacher had done. I couldn’t deny my heart was hammering, but it was Charlie, and he was hurt. I took a couple of deep breaths and did my best to keep calm. My need to comfort him overrode my need to break away. Just barely, but I was proud of myself.
“I need the hug,” he said. “I was afraid too.”
He lay there holding me close to him, my tears soaking his chest. I could hear his raspy breathing, but it told me he was alive and whole.
“You’re a very special man, Matt Bowers. I’m glad I got to meet you.”
My emotions were all over the grid. Giddy, angry, happy… all of them at the same time.
“What I am is messed up,” I admitted. “You don’t even want to know how hard it was for me to come here.” When I realized what I’d said, I stu
ttered, hoping to take it back. No need for him to know about my issues right now.
But he kissed my cheek. “I can imagine. And I’m honored you were able to make it.”
He didn’t tease, didn’t condemn. He just let me know my presence was welcome. But if he was going to welcome me, he should know what kind of person I am.
“You should know—”
“I know all I need to,” he interjected. “Right now, tell me something that makes you happy.”
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I tried to stand. This time he let me, but continued to hold my hand. “I read the first three books,” I said proudly.
“Get out! You so did not.” He grinned, and I was happy I was able to please him.
“I couldn’t put them down. They’re amazing. You have a true gift.”
He blushed and his grin morphed into a brilliant smile.
“And I really appreciated your note,” I added.
When he yawned, I disentangled our hands and sat next to his bed. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“Nothing to it. Go ahead and get some sleep.”
“Don’t wanna. I’m afraid you won’t be here when I wake up.”
The door opened and Clay stepped into the room, paper bag in hand. “Well, it’s about damn time you woke up,” he teased.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Charlie yawned again.
“Looks like you’re ready for another nap.”
Charlie nodded, his head lolling to one side. “Don’t let him leave, okay?” he mumbled. “Matt needs to be here when I wake up….” His eyes closed.
“We should let him sleep,” Clay said, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”
“But he said I should be here,” I protested, trying to look back at Charlie.
Runner Page 6