Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Trey

D inner with Holland was perfect. I took her to Rosie's and we had burgers and hand-cut fries. We got some sidelong looks from a few patrons, people who know me, know Holland and now see us together. My hand on her leg didn't go unnoticed and word will be around town by tomorrow that we're dating.

Except we're so much more than that.

We spent the meal not talking about her mom or my brother, but rather what we'd like in a house. Holland doesn't want to live in town the way I do but wants to live closer to the farm. She's even open to living in Kat's apartment above the tack room since Kat is staying at Gabe's place, but I want something more homelike. I want a yard, and a fence, and I want to get a dog too.

With our meal finished, it didn't feel right parting ways. I drove her to her mom's, but it wasn't the way our evening was supposed to end. We should have been able to go to my house and hang out with Wade—and if Wade weren't being a jackass, we could.

But instead, I walked her to her mom's door, which opened as soon as I was giving her a good-night kiss. Holland hadn't said anything to her mom about our relationship and she never knew about it back when we were teenagers. She never discussed those things with her mom.

Debbie's jaw dropped and I nodded at her with a smile. I gave Holland another kiss and told her I'd see her tomorrow as we made plans to meet for breakfast before I have to head to work.

On the way to my house, I mull over the best way to approach Wade. I want to be respectful to him, but I won't take a continual barrage of the same old bashing. I'll let him get it out of his system, I'll give him a heartfelt apology and even beg his forgiveness if I have to, then I want to fucking hug it out and be done with it.

I want my brother back. I want him to be happy for me the way the rest of the family is, and I want us all to be friends again. To achieve that, I know I'm going to have to swallow some pride, curb my anger and kiss his ass.

But I'll do it.

I'm relieved to see Wade's truck in the driveway and I pull up beside it, cutting the engine. I take a few beats, walk myself through another pep talk and head into the house.

I hear the TV when I enter and glancing over to the living room, I see Wade sitting on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, a beer in his hand.

Thinking to match his vibe, I grab a beer from the fridge, twist the cap and toss it in the garbage. I take a long sip, but Wade doesn't look my way, eyes pinned on some fishing show.

I walk into the living room and lean against the small wall that separates it from the kitchen. I stare at him but he ignores me.

"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice level and calm.

He doesn't look at me, just takes another swig of his beer. "Got nothing to say to you."

I tamp down the anger and frustration. "I want things to be right between us," I begin, stepping closer. "I know I fucked up—"

Wade finally turns to me, his eyes glacial. "You want things to be right?"

"I do," I say simply. "Tell me what it will take."

Tipping his head back to study the ceiling, he says, "Hmm." His eyes slide to me. "Break up with Holland. That will prove to me how much you regret that whole fucking charade and the lies you fed me."

I frown at him. "Break up with Holland? Why?"

Wade smirks and shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I'd have a chance with her then."

Rage simmers through my veins but I know my brother. He doesn't want a chance with Holland. He wants to make me suffer and I keep that in mind, calling on a deeper well of patience. "Not going to break up with Holland. But I'll apologize. Beg forgiveness." I try for a little levity. "I'll wash your truck for six months."

Wade isn't amused. "Fuck you and your apology."

Anger flares but I keep it in check. "Wade, I didn't handle things well, I know that. But we can't keep fighting like this. Holland and I—"

"Don't you dare bring her into this," Wade snaps, cutting me off. "You lied to my face, Trey. Holland did, too, for that matter. You discouraged me from seeing her by feeding me bullshit about her being like a sister, while you were screwing her the whole time."

My temper starts to slip. "It wasn't like that, Wade. We were trying to figure things out. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't want to hurt me?" he sneers. "You just wanted to get in her pants and keep me in the dark. How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been lying to me?"

"It's not about that," I say, my voice rising. "It's about love. I love her, Wade. I always have."

"Love? Is that what you call it?" He stands up, his face twisted with rage. "You're nothing but a selfish bastard, Trey. You always have been."

"That's rich, coming from you," I shoot back. "You've been acting like a spoiled brat, throwing tantrums because you didn't get your way."

Wade steps closer, his fists clenched. He doesn't say anything but stares daggers at me. I've had it, though. I'm over his petulance.

"I know you're acting like a child," I snarl at him. "Grow up, Wade. Life isn't always about you."

What happens next is a blur. Wade shoves me hard, and I stumble, both of our beers flying. I push him back, harder, and he crashes over the table, coming to rest on the floor. He gets up, his face a mask of revulsion.

"I hate you for this," he spits out, his voice raw. "I wish you weren't my brother."

My heart rends right down the middle. Wade and I fought a lot as brothers, but we've never used the word hate to describe our feelings. I can't decide if he's being honest or just dramatic.

None of that matters as he rushes past me, out the side kitchen door. I panic, knowing he's headed for his truck. Wade's been drinking, and I don't know how much. Was that his first beer or his fifth?

"Wade, stop!" I yell as I sprint out behind him. "If you've had more than one beer, you can't drive."

"Get the hell away from me," he growls, shoving me again as I try to stop him.

I try to grab his arm, but he pulls away and punches me hard with a roundhouse to the jaw. I spin before falling to my knees, dizzy from the blow. I shake my head, rub my jaw and as I look up, I watch helplessly as he gets into his truck and peels out of the driveway, turning right onto the main road.

I stagger to my feet, muttering. "Damn it, Wade!"

I start for my truck to follow, patting my pocket for my keys but remember I left them on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck," I mutter, running into the house. I grab the keys, bolt back outside and hurl myself into the truck. I'm determined to stop him before he does something stupid.

I pound the steering wheel as I crank the ignition, cursing myself for letting things get out of hand. I should have just left him alone, let him come to terms with everything in his own time rather than trying to push this down his throat.

The roads are dark and twisty, my headlights cutting through the night. My heart pounds as I push the speed limit, desperate to catch up to Wade. He better not be fucking drunk. He knows better than to drink and drive, so I don't think that's a real possibility. I'm more worried about him being upset and angry while behind the wheel.

As I come out of a curve, I see headlights angled across the road, blinking yellow lights and steam up ahead. My blood runs cold as I recognize the rear of Wade's truck and off to the side of the road, a small dark colored sedan. Both front ends are crumpled, the car worse than the truck.

"Fuck," I snarl, jerking off my seat belt and jumping out. It's so quiet except for the steam hissing from the small sedan. That car is closer and I run up to look in the passenger window, grimacing at the man slumped against the shattered driver's door glass, his neck at an unnatural angle and his eyes open but unseeing.

That takes me all of a second to analyze the man is dead and beyond my help, so I rush to the driver's side of Wade's truck. "Please be okay, please be okay," I chant.

I come to a skidding stop, grab the door and jerk it open. Tears spring hot to my eyes as I take in the massive damage, the force of the impact causing the front cab to crush in on itself. The steering wheel has pinned Wade to his seat, the airbags fully deployed. His head lolls on his shoulder and there's blood coming out of his mouth.

"No, no, no, no." My words are frantic, my head dizzy as I shakily put fingers to his carotid artery. At first, I can't feel anything but then… something faint. That's his pulse, right? I lose it, think I find it again, and fuck… I don't know. I only know I can't help him.

I dig my phone out of my pocket, dial 911. It's all a blur as I pace outside Wade's open door, telling the dispatcher what's going on. Another car comes down the road, pulls over and a woman runs up asking me what happened.

I just shake my head, not able to verbalize. I have no clue what happened. Wade's truck is in his lane of travel and there was clearly a head-on collision, but past that… I just know that my brother is hurt, possibly dying.

"Are you all right?" the woman asks, a hand on my shoulder.

"It's my brother," I choke out. "He's hurt bad."

She looks at Wade, then back at me. "Sit down, honey. You look like you're about to collapse."

"I can't," I say, my voice shaking, moving to stand by him. I put my fingers against his neck again, and yes… I think that's a pulse. "I need to stay with him."

The woman gently tries to guide me away, but I resist, my focus solely on Wade. "Help is on the way," she says sedately. "Just hold on."

Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder. A police car arrives first, an officer stepping out and assessing the scene quickly. "Everyone all right here?" he asks, but his eyes are already on Wade's truck.

"He's hurt," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "The man in the sedan is dead."

The officer nods, speaking into his radio. Moments later, a fire truck pulls up, followed by an ambulance. The scene becomes chaotic, with emergency personnel shouting orders and moving with practiced urgency.

"Step back, sir," one of the paramedics commands, but I can't move. "We need to get in there. Step back now!"

The woman gently pulls me away, her hands surprisingly strong. "Let them do their job," she murmurs.

I watch, feeling utterly helpless as the paramedics assess Wade's condition. They call for the Jaws of Life, and the sound of shearing metal fills the air. I can barely hold myself together and I feel like I'm going to puke.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" the woman asks, her voice kind but firm.

"My brother Ethan," I manage to say, giving her his number. "Tell him it's Wade. Tell him to get to the hospital."

She nods, pulling out her phone and making the call. I can barely hear her over the noise, but I know she's doing her best. I stand back, hands on top of my head, watching helplessly as the paramedics work frantically, finally freeing Wade from the wreckage. As they lift him onto the stretcher, I hear snippets of their conversation. "Severe chest trauma… possible cardiac contusion… need to stabilize him."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I watch as they load Wade into the ambulance, his face pale and bloodied. The world blurs around me.

"We're taking him to County General," one of the paramedics says. "Follow us if you can."

I nod, barely comprehending. The ambulance speeds away, sirens blaring. I walk like a zombie to my truck, my hands shaking so badly I can hardly get the keys in the ignition. The drive to the hospital is a blur, my mind racing with fear and guilt.

My phone rings but I ignore it. I've got the steering wheel gripped so tightly for control that I can't even think to try to answer.

It seems to take forever but then the emergency room looms before me. I park in a loading zone, not caring if I get ticketed or towed, and rush inside where a harried receptionist greets me. "My brother… Wade Blackburn… he was just brought in by ambulance."

The nurse nods, her expression sympathetic. "They're working on him now. Have a seat, and someone will be out to speak with you soon."

Looking around, I see the lobby is half full. I collapse into the nearest chair, my body shaking uncontrollably. I can't lose him. Not like this. The reality of the situation crashes down on me, and all I can do is pray that Wade will survive, and somehow, we'll find a way to mend what's been broken.

I stare at the floor, willing it to swallow me whole and make this go away. I ignore the bustle of activity around me but every time the double doors open past the reception desk, my head pops up, wondering if I'll be getting good or bad news.

"Trey!" I hear my name and look up to see my parents and Ethan.

I stand, trying to say something but nothing comes out. My dad puts a reassuring arm around my shoulders, leads me back to the chair. They sit around me. "What happened? The woman who called Ethan said it was a bad car accident."

I nod, my throat dry. "Looks like it was a head-on collision. The other driver is dead. Wade…" The words choke off as tears spring to my eyes. "It's bad. I heard them say maybe a contusion to his heart. He was unconscious. They had to cut him out with the Jaws of Life."

My mother's hand slaps across her mouth and a squeak of dismay seeps through. Tears fill her eyes and Ethan wraps her up in a hug while my dad keeps a strong arm around my shoulders.

"It's my fault," I whisper and they all turn to look at me. "We got into an argument. He left the house angry. I went after him… and… I came upon the wreck." My eyes beseech my mom's for some understanding. "One of the last things he said to me… was that he hated me."

My dad's fingers dig into my shoulder, way past the point of being reassuring and bordering on painful. I know how mad he must be at me, but I bravely meet his gaze and brace for the worst.

Instead, I find sympathetic eyes. "You did nothing wrong, son. You didn't cause that accident. And your brother did not hate you. You know that deep down, okay?"

I can't stand to see the understanding in his eyes when I don't deserve it. I stand up, needing air but giving the excuse, "I need to call Holland. Did someone let Kat know?"

Ethan nods. "She and Gabe are on their way. We've called Abby and she's on standby."

Nodding, I pull my phone from my pocket, intent on stepping outside to call Holland but I'm stopped dead in my tracks when the double doors open and a doctor walks through.

His eyes are tired, defeated and he looks around. "Family of Wade Blackburn?"

I'm closest to him so I step forward, but my parents and brother are right on my heels. The doctor motions toward a room that says Conference on the sign outside it. "Let's talk in here."

My chest squeezes painfully and I'm having a hard time sucking in air. My mom looks on the verge of collapse as my dad on one side and Ethan on the other escort her in. I follow behind, closing the door behind us.

There's a desk against the wall with an office chair, along with two couches perpendicular on adjoining walls. Without the doctor asking us to, we all take seats. He stands before us, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm Dr. Barrymore, a trauma surgeon. I evaluated Wade when he came in and he was unfortunately in full cardiac arrest. We attempted for over twenty minutes to resuscitate him, but I'm sorry to say… we weren't successful. He's unfortunately passed."

I don't remember much after that other than a low, keening wail that my mother lets out. It hurts my ears, like nails on a chalkboard, and it seems to go on forever and ever. I slump back onto the couch, rub at my watery eyes.

This can't be happening.

This can't be fucking happening.

Wade is dead and it's my fault.