by Cat Mason
Leanne sags against the van, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know how much more we can take.”
My heart hurts for this woman. I don’t know her, but for some reason I want to help her. It’s not easy for anyone these days, but I smile knowing we can at least make it a little easier by showing her some kindness. “Mitch, why don’t you pop the back and see if you can find a jack and the spare,” I say, gesturing to the tire. “I’ll go inside and pay for our gas and grab us all some drinks and stuff.”
Placing a kiss on my cheek, he nods. “Sounds like a plan.” Walking around to the back, Mitch hits the access door and opens the hatch.
“I’ll be right back, Leanne,” I say softly, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.
Stepping into the store, I grab chips and cookies from the rack before going back to the fridge to get drinks and a couple of packaged sandwiches for us to eat on the road. With both my arms full, I make my way up to the front and dump it onto the counter. “This everything?” the older woman asks as she starts ringing up and bagging my items.
Catching my eye on the display beside the register is a tiny blue truck like the eighteen wheelers parked outside. My fingers immediately grab it, running my thumb over the name Taylor Lumber printed across it in white letters and I know that I can’t leave without it. “The gas on pump seven and this too, please,” I reply, handing her the truck.
“All together that’s…”
“Everyone get down on the ground. Now!” a voice shouts from behind me, making me jump. His hand wraps around my throat yanking me back against him. “Give me all the money from the register or I’ll shoot every fuckin’ person in here, starting with her.”
The cool metal of the gun presses to my temple. Internally I’m screaming, but I force myself to stay calm so not to set him off. I know one false move by anyone and this situation will go from bad to worse.
The cashier’s hands shake as she fumbles with the register, attempting to open the drawer. Tears stream down her face as she shoves the money in a bag. The man’s hand tightens around my neck. His fingers dig in so tightly it makes it hard to breathe. My eyes frantically search for Mitch outside the window behind the register, but he is probably still changing the tire.
“Here,” the cashier says handing him the bag. “Please, just go and don’t hurt anyone. You don’t have to do this.”
Shuffling toward the door, he pulls me with him as a shield. I stumble back, making him curse angrily as he continues to drag me by my throat. The gun is now pressed to my side along with the bag of cash. “You’re lucky she listened,” he says, before shoving me into the counter to make his escape.
Clutching my side, I gasp for breath as I see a squad car pull into the parking spot beside Leanne’s van. “Who called the cops?” he shouts, waving the gun around frantically before firing two shots into the ceiling. “Who the fuck called the police? I’ll kill you, you stupid bitch! I’ll fuckin’ kill all of you!”
Pointing his gun between the cashier and me, he screams at her as she sobs. Everything happens so fast. I see the cop, followed by Mitch, running toward the doors, people screaming and crying all around me as they panic. In the midst of all the chaos, my eyes lock on Mitch’s as he runs, fear filling the beautiful brown, but they aren’t fast enough.
The gunman takes a breath and fires two more shots.
Chapter Eleven
Mitch
I’ve always heard that during times of crisis everything moves incredibly slow. Bullshit. The only thing moving not moving fast enough, was me.
“Oh my God, was that gunshots?” Leanne screams, blocking the kids inside the van. “My husband is in there!”
Without answering Leanne, I run, needing nothing more than to get to my girl. To make sure she is safe. My eyes lock with Becky’s as I run alongside the sheriff who pulled in just before the gun went off. My legs feel like I am running in water. My movements feel so slow.
The gun points toward the counter and the cashier. Becky’s eyes are fixed on me. I want to scream for her to duck, run, anything to get her out of the way. Fear grips my entire body, damn near crippling me.
And then she moves.
Becky dives onto the counter knocking the cashier to the ground behind it and my heart stops. Screams echo throughout the store as we run inside while people huddle in corners for safety.
“Becky!” I shout, my entire body shaking. “Are you two okay?”
“Drop your weapon and get your goddamn hands up,” the sheriff says, pointing his gun at the man who didn’t even bother wearing a mask.
The gun clatters to the floor. “I was desperate. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he rambles as the cashier attempts to helps Becky to her feet.
“Beck-” I stop cold.
“I’m okay,” she whispers, the sound of her voice making my blood run cold.
No, Becky, you’re not. My head screams the words, but I can’t make my lips move.
Blood pours from her side onto the floor, the cashier sobs as she tries to cover the wound with her hands. “Call an ambulance!” I scream. The world spins too fast for me to catch up. We are on our way to Vegas, we are getting married. Everything was perfect. How did this happen? “She’s been shot.”
Running around the counter, I lie her flat. Ripping my uniform shirt from my body, I wrap it around my hand and apply pressure to the wound.
“Ambulance is less than ten minutes out,” the sheriff says before leading the now unarmed gunman out to his squad car.
“I’m sorry, Mitch,” Becky whispers, staring up at me, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“What do you have to be sorry for, baby?” I ask. She coughs and sputters, blood dripping from her mouth as she tries to talk. Her hand comes up to cup my cheek and I lean into her touch, but it lacks its usual warmth.
“You’re fine,” I reply, lifting her into my arms. “I’m taking you out of here, Becky.” Needing to get her out of here, I start around the counter for the doors. I don’t care about anything else. I just want away from the hysteria and away from the sight of her blood on the white tile floor. “The ambulance is coming. Hear the sirens? You’re going to be okay,” I say the minute the cool night air hits my face.
“I messed everything up,” she whispers sadly. “All our plans for a future together.”
“You’re not getting’ out of a lifetime with me, baby,” I say looking down into her eyes. “I don’t know what in the hell you were thinkin’, jumpin’ in front of that gun.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
“I couldn’t let someone get hurt, Mitch. When I saw you running up, I knew I had to get us both behind that counter.” Her voice cracks and she coughs. Blood fills her mouth, dribbling over her lips, staining them. “Is she okay?” she asks and I have to bite back my aggravation. She’s more worried about the cashier, who doesn’t even have a scratch on her, instead of herself while she bleeds in my arms. How the fuck does that make sense? “You would’ve done the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” I argue, lying through my teeth. I know where she is coming from. I risk my life every single day of every deployment and she knows that, whether I tell her or not. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s her lying here and not me.
“Liar,” she mouths as I lie her down in the grass. Reaching up, she runs her fingers over my jaw, a tear slipping down her face. “I don’t want to let you go.”
The words leave her lips, instantly ripping me to shreds. I can’t do this without her. I don’t know how to be without her now that I know what loving her feels like. “Beck, I’m right here,” I whisper, pulling her into my arms and cradling her to me. “I’m not going anywhere, neither are you. I promise.”
“It’s so pretty.” Her voice is now distant, her breathing shallow.
“Give me your eyes, Becky,” I say frantically, cupping her face with my free hand. Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to believe she could do this. She would never leave me. “Becky, I need your e
yes, baby.”
“I love you, Mitch.”
“Forever or bust, Becky. Always,” I repeat, just like I always do and she sighs. Her eyes close and she smiles for me. “Just stay with me. Focus on me.”
When the last breath exits her body, I swear my heart stops with hers. “Becky!” I scream. “Beck, I love you. Wake up, please. Do you hear me? I need you to stay with me.”
Lying her in the grass, I start chest compressions, praying for a miracle. For anything. “Don’t leave me, Becky,” I plead. “Don’t take her from me, do you hear me?” I scream, my tears falling freely now. “I won’t let you have her. I need more time!”
“Sir, we need you to step back and let us work,” an EMT says, gripping my shoulder.
“I didn’t get enough time,” I tell him. “Help her, please. She’s my whole fuckin’ world.”
Pushing to my feet, I cling to my shirt as two EMTs work on Becky. Every ounce of me prays for her to take a breath, for her to fight her way back to me. Yanking off his gloves, the man shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”
“No!” I shout, dropping to my knees at her side once more. “She isn’t. She can’t be. Becky!”
Throwing my blood-stained shirt, I pull her into my arms. Brushing my fingers over her face, I stare at the only woman who will ever have all of me. I can’t breathe. I shatter into the empty spaces that now exist without her within me. I realize in this moment that I will never be whole again without her. “Baby, how do you expect me to go on like I never knew you?” I whisper, but no one answers because she’s gone. She is really gone.
All our dreams, our plans, ripped from us by a threat I couldn’t defend us from. Those things I couldn’t wait to have, that we were talking about half an hour ago, are gone. All that remains is darkness.
That’s all there can ever be now.
Chapter Twelve
Mitch
“Mourning isn’t for the dead, they are already at peace,” the preacher says, standing at the gravesite of Rebecca Lynn Edwards, beautiful granddaughter, loving fiancé. “Grieving is for those left behind. Today, Becky walks in paradise with our Lord and Savior. Truly, she is the lucky one.”
Clutching the white roses in my hand, I step forward with Frank to accept condolences from friends and loved ones. I shake hands, pretending to care about their grief until I am blue in the goddamn face. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else’s pain at the loss of my girl.
No way do they feel the hurt that slams in my chest when I reach for her in the night and she isn’t there. I can’t even sleep in our bed because I catch her scent on the sheets. Just her voice on the answering machine made me shatter it against the wall. The pain of being awake is nothing compared to the nightmares of reliving her death every time I close my eyes. The unending ache down to my goddamn bones won’t go away.
Luke drove up the minute he got the news, setting up temporary residence at my apartment until I can get all my affairs handled. First thing he did was barge his big ass in my apartment and toss me into a cold shower. When I got out, I saw he was pouring the bottles of vodka down the drain instead of down my throat where they belonged. I don’t want to feel anything. I can’t sleep sober. If I’m drunk, I don’t dream of her. I don’t dream at all. Although, when I wake up, there are these few seconds where I forget that she is gone. For those moments, I don’t feel dead inside.
Then I remember and it’s as if I’ve lost her all over again.
“Heard you’re not re-enlistin’,” Frank says, walking up beside me.
Sheppard pats me on the shoulder. “You need anything, call me.” I nod, but don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. Wrapping his arm around a sobbing Maddie, he heads toward the car where Diya and Micah stand talking to Luke.
“You’re runnin’,” Frank says, his eyes fixed on the closed casket.
“Maybe I am,” I reply, exhaling harshly. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m going back to Vegas to work in the shop with Luke until I figure my shit out.”
“You don’t want to hear it, but I’m gonna say it because she’d want me to. Raised that girl, I know what kind of love was taken from you, son. Had it and lost it same as you. Hurts like nothin’ you’ll ever feel and I don’t blame you, Mitchell, I don’t. Thing is, you can’t run from a loss like this. When you find the one person, you wonder what the fuck you did the day before you met them, and secretly pray you never have to find out how to live without the parts of you they bring to life. I'm sorry that you've been dealt this, son. You may think you’ve lost your heart, but whether you want it to or not, it's still going to beat without her.”
Pressing the roses to my lips, I close my eyes and for a second I can almost feel her lips on mine, but the feeling is gone just as quick. Forcing back the tears, I look at him. I know he is crushed and hurting too because he lost his granddaughter, but it hurts too much to hear what he is saying. I don’t care about anyone else’s pain. All I can see is her blood on my hands, while she stares up at me peacefully as she accepts the hand we were dealt at that fucking truck stop.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Frank.” Lying the roses on top of her closed casket, I let the tears roll down my face, not caring if it makes me look weak. I’d gladly cry a million tears for another smile or one more minute with my girl. Every ounce of strength and all the reason I had to fight are lying in that fuckin’ box and it’s all I can do not to rip it open and climb inside it with her. The best of me is already in there anyway. “I died right along with her.”
Some people live their whole lives without ever finding anything of significance to live for. Some find it, and yet, it’s lost to the void. That’s a fate worse than death itself. My whole world was taken from me, and I can’t begin to live without her. The rest of my time here on earth I am damned to exist in solitude.
To be continued…
Mitch’s story continues in Solitude.
Coming soon.
Acknowledgements:
Usually, I have pages worth of thank you’s and acknowledgements for people who I love dearly, but it all really comes back to this. I’m going to keep it simple, but no less important.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has opened a book I have written. This book holds a piece of my heart, as will Solitude, because it is raw and emotional. It’s real. Beauty, pain, love, and all the things that go with them, are real and demand to be felt. The good, the bad, and the brutally painful.
Everything Mitch feels, I have no choice but to feel it right with him as the story unfolds and I hope you love it as much as I have. Thank you for getting on this ride with me and taking a chance on my books and the characters you choose to give life to every time you read.
There is so much more to come.
Xoxo
Cat.