I can’t wait to get home. I know I’m never going to meet him. We have an unspoken agreement. We started out simply saving each other but over these past months and countless hours of texts, our friendship has transformed into love. What we have together is special and pure and it belongs only to us. We were both married to the loves of our lives. That love will never die, but now we have our love and neither of us will EVER ruin that by crossing any of those dangerous lines.
We’re halfway through our drive home when Chloe asks me a question that breaks my heart and reminds me why I left in the first place.
“Is Daddy going to be there?” she asks with a hopeful tone in her voice.
“No, he’s not, sweet pea,” I answer with a heavy heart. “Remember what I told you? Daddy is living in the sky with the angels. But Grandma and Papa will be there.”
“YAY!” She giggles and I thank God it’s so easy to redirect a five-year-old. Breaking the news to her about her dad was so hard and it never gets any easier when she asks about him.
Chloe turned five last December. My mother made an appearance to wish her granddaughter a happy birthday but that was all she did. I knew she wouldn’t have a gift so I bought one for her to give to Chloe.
Rodger and Beverly, on the other hand, went all out. They sent her a box filled with gifts and balloons. When Chloe opened the box and balloons floated out, she squealed, liking the balloons almost as much as the collection of Frozen paraphernalia they sent. There was a party at her preschool and later, Sandi, Beth, and I took the girls down to San Diego to spend the day at Sea World.
As soon as we get close to home I pull off to the side of the road to text E. He sent me a text which I read when I stopped for gas. Be safe was all it said, but his words screamed volumes. I know he’s on pins and needles, waiting to hear I made it home safe. I would be too if the situation were reversed.
Almost back in the South Bay. I’m meeting the in-laws and may be busy. I didn’t want you to worry.
Since my car is old, it acts up a lot. I’m thankful we make it home in one piece. I’ve been putting off getting a new car, but I know it’s time. Scott and I had planned on going car shopping before he was killed and after…well, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. But now I don’t feel safe driving it anymore, so I plan on talking to Rodger as soon as I’m home to make the change. Sometimes when I apply the brakes it lunges forward. I know this, so I stop far enough behind the car in front of me so I won’t hit it if the brakes don’t stick.
It’s still early when I arrive and the usually busy streets are eerily quiet. As I’m driving up the road towards my house a large golden blur runs out in front of my car. I slam my foot on the brakes but my truck lurches forward.
SCREECH! BUMP!
OH MY GOD!
“Wait in the car, baby!” I shout as I jump out. “Mommy will be right back.”
I rush around to the front of the car and when I see a dog lying unconscious in the street, I lose it and start sobbing. I fall to the ground and gently place the dog’s head on my lap, trying to get it to wake up. At the sound of heavy footsteps, I look up and see a man in workout clothes running towards us. He sees the dog on my lap, turns white as a ghost, and freezes. He’s rooted to the spot as if stuck in cement. The look on his face is beyond sheer terror; he’s haunted. I know that look. I live it, every goddamn day of my life. His eyes are wide and empty. It’s as if he’s not even in his body anymore. Something unimaginable must have happened to him, because this is beyond any sort of normal reaction. He looks from his dog to me to my car and back at his dog again. I watch as his eyes gain focus and my heart breaks when he cries out in agony, repeating the word “no” over and over again.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. “He ran in front of my car and…” My tears stop me from saying anything more. This can’t be happening.
He looks up at the sky, closes his eyes, and mouths words, too quiet for me to hear.
When he looks at me again, he shakes his head, which must have killed the fog he’s been in because his eyes fill with rage, his face turns red, and he starts shouting.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“I…” I can’t finish my sentence because the look in his eyes has me paralyzed.
Still standing in the same spot, still rooted to the ground, he looks at me with so much agony I sob again, harder. I know people become attached to their dogs but this reaction is different, so very different. I know immediately this must be about something so much bigger than his dog. He crouches down and puts his hands behind his neck, his elbows on his thighs, his eyes facing downward. He stays that way for several heartbeats before he straightens up and looks at me once again. But he’s not looking at me, he is just looking out into space…completely lost.
What happened to you?
“I don’t have my car,” he mutters in a resigned voice, more to himself than to me. He starts pacing back and forth a few times, mumbling about not having his keys, cell phone or wallet, before he stops, grabs the back of his neck, and looks back down towards the ground like he’s trying to figure out what to do.
“Let me take you to the vet,” I blurt out, still on the ground, still with his dog’s head on my lap. “You can drive and I’ll hold your dog on my lap.”
Let me help you.
Normally I wouldn’t be comfortable letting a stranger drive my car but I’m absolutely positive he’d never get in the car if I was driving. He doesn’t trust me and I don’t blame him.
WHEN WE GET TO MY car, I stop abruptly, causing him to nearly bump into my back. Regardless of what he’s going through, he’s acting erratic and I don’t want him scaring Chloe.
“My five-year-old daughter is in the back seat,” I inform him. He audibly gasps and is once again pale and rooted to the ground. Why?
I don’t bother waiting for a reply. “She’s going to be worried about your dog but I’ll let her know what’s going on.” He looks down at his dog, sighs, and nods.
I open my door and slide into the passenger seat. After he places his dog on my lap, I hand him my keys and he silently walks around the car to the driver’s side.
Once he’s in the car, I turn to Chloe. “Mommy hit this doggy and he’s not feeling very well so we’re going to help this man take him to the hospital.”
“Is his doggy going to be okay, Mommy?” she asks, her little voice full of concern.
“Yes, baby girl. You don’t have to worry,” I tell her, not fully believing what I’m saying.
“Okay, Mommy,” she responds, and goes back to playing with her Frozen dolls.
As we’re driving, I glance over and really notice him for the first time. He truly is a stunning man, rugged yet soft at the same time. He has thick, dark hair that’s longer on the top and shorter on the sides and his face is covered with a stubble that’s more than a five o’clock shadow but less than a full beard. I’m not usually a fan of facial hair but on him it works. He has a strong jaw, full, lush lips, a strong nose with a slight bump on the bridge and a scar bisecting his right eyebrow. His face paints a picture and I find myself getting lost in it.
He notices me staring and when he glances my way, I gasp. His eyes are beautiful, a kaleidoscope of color and I’m in awe. They’re incredible. Wedgewood with brushstrokes of charcoal with flecks of navy mixed in. I could drown in your eyes.
He breaks the connection when he turns his eyes back to the road and it takes me a minute to come back to myself and find my breath because I swear I just saw his soul. His eyes are focused, his expression blank. His jaw’s clenched so tightly it’s twitching and his grip on the steering wheel is so strained, it looks like his knuckles are going to snap in half. The tension rolling off him is thick and heavy, making it impossible for me to breathe.
The drive to the VCA clinic in Redondo Beach is unnervingly silent. Even Chloe’s quiet, which is something that never happens. Halfway here, I realized not having his wallet meant not having his license. Between that and the chok
ing silence permeating the car, I’m so incredibly relieved when we finally pull into the parking lot that I let out a long breath so audible he notices.
He gets out of the car and retrieves his dog while I head to the back seat to get Chloe.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Getting my daughter out of the car,” I answer.
“I can see that,” he says through his ever-present scowl. “My question is, why are you getting your daughter out of the car?”
“What?” I ask, thinking I must not have understood him correctly.
“I asked, why are you getting your daughter out of the car?” He repeats his question through clenched teeth, slowly emphasizing each word, like he thinks I need to get a fucking clue?
“I’m getting my daughter out of the car…” I repeat, also speaking slowly and emphasizing each word. Maybe he can get a fucking clue. “Because, we’re going in,” I tell him in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I hit your dog, I’m paying for it, and I need to know if he’s going to be okay.”
“Oh no you’re not!” He grinds this out through his still-clenched teeth.
God, he’s making this difficult.
“You don’t have your wallet,” I point out through my own clenched teeth, too angered by his actions to talk any other way.
Without another word, he turns and walks silently into the hospital. Shaking my head, I retrieve Chloe and her backpack. I don’t know how long we’ll be there and want her to be kept busy.
I enter the hospital just as he approaches the counter. I set Chloe down, pull out her toys, and once she’s settled, I approach the counter and grab the clipboard to fill out the paperwork. He’s in too much of a state to do it himself and I want to help any way I can.
I watch him while he stands unmoving in the room; his eyes glued to the door his dog just went through. “What’s your name?” I ask, looking at him from my seat, pen in hand.
My question gets his attention. He turns around and glares at me but doesn’t answer. “I’m not making idle conversation here.” I show him the clipboard.
He’s still staring at me like I just asked him to solve world hunger, but after a few minutes, he sighs and sits by me, leaving an open seat between us. He puts his elbows on his knees, clasps his hands behind his bowed head, and sighs.
I sigh too. “Look, I didn’t think you’d want to fill this out but if I’m wrong…”
He looks up at me as I start to hand him the clipboard but stops me with his hand, shakes his head, and finally answers my question. “Ean. Ean Montgomery.”
“Ian Montgomery,” I repeat and write down.
I point the pen in my hand towards myself and say, “Dani Adams.”
He nods but still doesn’t say a word so I keep going. “Your dog’s name?”
“Po.”
“Po?” I ask, thinking I heard him wrong. He just glares at me. Guess I didn’t.
“Po,” I repeat and write that down too. “Phone number?”
At his silence, I arch an eyebrow, once again, pushing the clipboard in his direction. If you want to do this, have at it.
I have to bite my lip to hide my smile when he reluctantly gives me his number. See, big guy? that wasn’t too hard now, was it?
I decide to fill the rest out on my own, using my personal information. It’s easier this way. If I receive anything from here, I’ll just call the hospital and tell them to call him.
When I’m finished, I go to the counter, hand over the paperwork, pay, and return to my seat. His eyes follow as I open a juice box for Chloe and hand her a snack.
“What are you doing?” he asks. His voice, once again is thick with irritation.
“I’m getting ready to have a party,” I answer sarcastically. What in the hell is his problem?
“Why are you still here?” he spits out, quickly pissing me off.
Seriously!
“I’m waiting to see how your dog is,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice low.
I really don’t give two shits whether he wants me here or not. I need to make sure his dog is okay. If I don’t find out, it’ll bother me.
“Oh no you’re not!” he hisses. “You’re not waiting, I don’t want you here. You’ve already done enough for one day!”
I know when I’m not wanted. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” I gather up Chloe and her things and turn to leave. When I reach the door, I turn to him. He’s once again sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped behind his downturned head.
As if he senses me he looks up.
“I hope your dog is okay,” I say and leave, not waiting for a response.
“I HOPE YOUR DOG IS okay.” Her parting words.
I can’t believe what just happened and I’m embarrassed by how I acted but I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t stop it. It was like I was taken back to the day of the accident. Granted, I never saw Alyssa and Alex, which is still a mixed blessing of “thank God I didn’t see them because I would never unsee it” to “why couldn’t I have seen them one last time, just to say goodbye,” though that could have been far worse.
My eyes haven’t left the door. I can’t stop thinking about Dani Adams and how I treated her. She’s so beautiful, with thick, wavy dark brown hair that falls to the middle of her back and magical eyes. That’s the only way I can describe them. An ethereal mix of brown and green with flecks of gold mixed in. Long black lashes and high cheekbones that flushed red every time she became angry. She’s tall, probably about five foot eight, and curved in all the right places. She also seems kind and genuinely concerned about Po.
I close my eyes and can almost imagine what she must look like when she smiles because as beautiful as she is, she must be stunning with a smile. I find myself feeling sad because instead of making her smile, I made her frown.
The memory of Po’s accident keeps playing on a loop in my mind. I was heading back home after my run and he yanked the leash out of my hand when he bolted, chasing after something I couldn’t see.
SCREECH! BUMP! I can’t get that horrible sound out of my head.
When I ran to the noise and saw Po lying unconscious on the ground in front of an old SUV, I stopped breathing. His head was being cradled by a woman who was sobbing uncontrollably. She was torn apart actually. When she looked up at me, her eyes were haunted. It was like she was reliving something really horrific. I know that look. I live it every fucking minute of my life and I’m sure my face reflected that.
I couldn’t stop repeating the word “no.” because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I remember shouting that exact word, over and over again the day I found out that Alex and Alyssa had been killed and my addled mind takes me back to that horrible day.
“EAN! EAN, WAKE UP!”
I’m being shaken? Why? What’s happening?
“Ean, baby! Wake up!” I felt wetness on my face and heard my mom’s voice; she was sobbing.
Where am I? What’s going on? Why is my mom crying?
I slowly opened my heavy eyes and saw my mom hovering over me, tears surging out of her eyes, wetting both my face and shirt.
What’s wrong? Why is she crying so hard?
“Mom? What’s going on?” I looked around and then back at her.
I’m in my store but on the floor. How’d I get here?
“Oh, honey…” Her voice trailed off as she fell apart, her body collapsing on top of mine as she continued to cry, hard.
“He’s over there!” I heard my dad shouting, his voice frantic.
Dad? Something’s wrong. Really, really wrong.
“Ean!” he sobbed.
Another strangled cry. Riley? What’s my family doing here?
“What happened?” I asked, not recognizing my own voice.
I looked at my mom and sister for answers but they were both crying too hard to speak. “Dad?”
He crouched down onto the floor next to me and took my hand in a tight grip. His eyes were blood
shot, his face red. He looked…wrecked.
“Ean…”
He hesitated and looked down to the floor. When he looked back up at me, tears were also streaming, unbidden, down his distraught face. I could tell by his composure and the look in his eyes that something really horrendous happened and my world ended when I learned I was right.
“There’s been an accident. Alyssa and Alex are…dead.”
I shot up off the floor, furious he would ever say such a hideous thing. “BULLSHIT!” I shouted. “HOW DARE YOU EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT!”
I lunged at my father and was just about to hit him when I was knocked over by my sister. I jumped back on my feet again and looked at them. They were all frozen. Rooted to the floor, paralyzed. Consumed by grief and inconsolable.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” I screamed, repeating the words over and over again.
They’re wrong! They have to be wrong!
I looked at them again and in that moment, I knew what they were saying was true. NOOOOO!
I turned and ran out the door. I had to get home.
They have to be there!
I kept running; knocking over anyone and everyone in my path. I dodged cars, sprinting the miles back to my house and barged through the door yelling their names.
“ALEX! ALYSSA!”
I ripped open my bedroom door. “ALYSSA!” I tore open Alex’s bedroom door. “ALEX!”
I ran around all over my small cottage crying their names. I yanked open the door to the backyard shouting for them. Empty. I opened the door leading to the garage. No car. I turned and raced back through the house to the front door. The Walk Street, Alex loves the Walk Streets! They have to be there. I grabbed the doorknob and bolted out of the house, slamming it in my wake. “ALYSSA! ALEX!” I ran from street to street knocking on the doors of everyone who knew them. I was frantic and desperate.
Everyone was out of their homes now watching me. I didn’t care. I needed to find them. I turned back in the other direction in a frantic attempt to find them but was stopped, tackled, knocked to the ground and held there. I looked up, my vision blurred by my tears and saw Justin and Chance holding me down.
Saving Each Other (Saving Series Book 1) Page 8