Must Be Fate: (Cody and Clover) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 3) (21 page)

Ryan texts me Saturday afternoon to see if I want to meet him for a beer. I haven’t seen my brothers in a while, so I decide I ought to make myself get out of the house and join them. We meet at a restaurant on Main Street, just up the road from Old Town Café. I haven’t been in the café since I left Clover. I avoid looking at it when I drive by.

Hunter’s at a window booth when I get there.

“Hey,” he says as I sit down.

“Hey man,” I say. I notice something on his shirt. “What’s that?”

He looks down. “What?”

“You have something on your shirt.”

“That’s awkward,” he says.

“Is that lipstick?” I ask.

“Um, yes?” he says, like he’s unsure.

I raise my eyebrows at him. I didn’t know Hunter was seeing anyone. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “It’s actually nothing. I, um, kind of hooked up with someone, but it was a stupid thing to do.”

“Who is she?” I ask.

Hunter looks away and rubs his head with his hand. He looks uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.”

“All right, man,” I say. Hunter’s been back in town for less than a year after his medical discharge from the Marines. Until recently, I thought he was adjusting to post-military life pretty well. But beneath his easy smile, there’s something else going on. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t push. But I’m also not going to let him close off entirely.

We’re guys, there’s only so much we want to talk about what’s going on in our lives, or inside our heads, and I get that. But I also let my other brother Ryan drift away when he was suffering from depression, and things got bad. Really bad. I’ll be damned if I let it happen to Hunter.

As if on cue, Ryan shows up and sits down in the booth. “Hey look, it’s brother bonding hour.”

The waitress comes by with three beers.

“I ordered for us when I got here,” Hunter says.

“Thanks, man,” Ryan says.

“So what’s up with you?” I ask, looking at Ryan. I want to avoid talking about me, and Hunter seems to be in the same place. I’m hoping Ryan can fill in the conversation.

“Dude,” he says with a half-smile on his face. “Nicole and I hung out with Melissa and her fiancé the other day.”

“The rich guy?” Hunter asks.

“Yeah, Jackson,” Ryan says.

“What was that like?” Hunter asks.

“You know what, the guy’s pretty cool. Nicole talked me into it, because Mel’s her best friend. I was dreading it, but Jackson’s all right.” Ryan pauses, his mouth turning up in a grin. “He let me drive his car.”

Hunter laughs. “What does he drive?”

“A Bugatti.”

I raise my eyebrows. That is a seriously expensive car, with a price tag that starts with an
M
. “Holy shit.”

“
Holy shit
is right,” Ryan says. “It’s the sexiest motherfucking car. Made me want to be a damn billionaire just so I can have one.”

“They’re getting married too, aren’t they?” Hunter asks.

“Yeah, but not until November. Nicole and Melissa planned it all out yesterday over lunch, figuring out the dates so the weddings are far enough apart or whatever. They talked for at least an hour. Jackson and I just sat there looking at each other, all bewildered, while our fiancées planned out our lives. I guess money doesn’t make you immune to that.”

“Great, more weddings,” I say.

“What’s your problem?” Ryan asks.

“Cody’s pouting,” Hunter says.

I lean back in the booth. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not pouting.”

Ryan looks at me and narrows his eyes. “So are you going to tell us what’s going on? Or do we have to keep relying on Mom’s guesses?”

“Mom’s guesses?” I ask. “Why is she even guessing anything?”

“Because you keep missing dinner with her and Dad,” Ryan says. “It’s kind of obvious you’re avoiding everyone.”

I don’t want to say it. They already know. I can tell they know. It isn’t like news doesn’t travel fast in this town. They’ve been holding back, avoiding asking me questions, and I’m glad of it. If I say it out loud, it will be real. And they’re going to ask why. I’m not sure if I have a good answer to that question.

But at this point, it’s kind of stupid not to talk about it.

“I broke things off with Clover,” I say.

Hunter doesn’t say anything, but Ryan raises an eyebrow at me.

“Seriously?” Ryan asks.

“Yes, seriously.”

“Fuck me, what did you do that for?” Ryan knows how to push my buttons almost as much as Jennifer did.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” I say.

“Of course it’s my goddamn business,” Ryan says. “You’re my brother, and when you’re being a fucking idiot it’s my job to tell you.”

I grind my teeth together and look out the window.

“Don’t get pissed at me,” Ryan says.

“I’m not pissed at you,” I say. And I’m not. I’m pissed at myself. “Look, she was great. But she’s…” I trail off. I don’t know how to explain it.

“Not the perfect doctor’s wife?” Ryan says.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask.

“Cody, you play it safe. You always have. Clover was a risk. And hey, I don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors or whatever, but you seemed good together. Really good. And now you’re back to living at your clinic and being goddamn pissy all the time. It seems like you were better off with her.” He takes a drink of his beer. “But what do I know?”

I stare at the bottle in front of me. “It doesn’t matter at this point, because she’s gone. She left town. And honestly, that’s part of the problem. She’s never stayed anywhere in her life. She doesn’t stick things out. She sees some fucking sign in the clouds and she takes off. That’s not me. I don’t want to pack up my shit and move to a new place every time I get bored. I need someone who’s dependable.”

“She didn’t leave town,” Ryan says.

“Yes, she did.”

“No, she didn’t,” Ryan insists. “I saw her at the café. She was working.”

I sit up in my seat. “When?”

“Yesterday,” he says. “She asked if you were doing okay, but she looked pretty upset when she said it.”

“That’s so weird,” I say. “I went to her place to talk to her, and she was gone.”

Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe she just wasn’t home when you stopped by. But I definitely saw her.”

She’s still here.
That means she didn’t bail. She didn’t move on.

Hunter looks out the window and his eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

Tires screech and there’s a loud crash, the sickening crunch of metal on metal.

Before I process what’s happening, I’m out the door, Hunter and Ryan on my heels. Two cars are in the middle of the intersection—one silver, the other red. The front of the silver car is smashed into the driver’s side of the red one. Behind me, I hear Hunter say something about the silver car coming out of nowhere and running the stop sign.

Clover drives a red car.

I run, sprinting toward the scene. There’s no way it’s her. She left. I don’t give a shit what Ryan said, she left town. She’s long gone, so she can’t be in that car. It can’t be her.

I get closer. Smoke or steam rises from the silver car and a guy stumbles out. He has blood on his face. I hear Ryan talking to a 911 operator. The guy needs help, but he’s on his feet, and I have to get to the other car. The silver car is in the way. I can’t see who’s driving the red one.

The driver’s side is smashed in and blocked. I can’t get to it. I run around to the passenger side and rip open the door.

No
. No, no, no, no.

Curly blond hair. A long-sleeved yellow shirt. Her eyes are closed.

The side of her car is smashed in, pushing her across the center console, despite her seat belt. Her head lolls to the side, her chin against her shoulder. I smell the tang of blood, and I crawl inside, desperate.

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

“Clover.” I feel her neck. There’s a pulse, but it’s weak. I almost cry with relief. “Clover, stay with me. Stay with me, baby.”

Then I see the blood. It’s blooming across her yellow shirt and down her pants, darkening her clothes with alarming speed. My chest tightens with panic.

I have to get her out of here.

Time seems to slow, all the details of the car sharpening. My heart is pounding, but I force myself into calmness, pushing away my fear. In my mind, I can already see each action I need to take. Moving her is a risk because of the possibility of a spinal injury, but she’ll bleed out if I don’t stop it. I have to trust my gut.

My hands are steady as I unfasten her seatbelt and wedge my arms beneath her. I pull her to the passenger’s side, holding her body next to mine. Blood seeps onto my sleeves, hot and sticky.

I get her out and lay her down on the road next to the car. Her left arm bends the wrong way; it’s broken, but a broken arm won’t kill her. I carefully move it out of the way and lift up her shirt to see where the blood is coming from.

There’s a ragged gash in her side, just above her hip. Dark blood seeps out. I quickly pull off my shirt and fold it. It’s not sterile, but I don’t have anything else. I have a first aid kit in my car, but there’s no time. I apply it to the wound, careful not to press too hard. I don’t want to do more damage and she’s probably bleeding internally. There’s nothing I can do to stop that, except keep her alive until the paramedics get here.

I hold my shirt against her, firm but gentle. I look up at Hunter. “Push her legs up so her knees are bent, her feet flat on the ground.”

He nods and kneels next to her. His face is stoic as he moves her legs up, bending her knees. It puts her in a better position, and she’s unconscious so we don’t have to worry about the pain.

Blood soaks through the shirt onto my hands. I can still hear Ryan talking to someone, but his voice seems far away. I hold onto her, watching the color drain from her face. I’m a fucking doctor, but I’m sitting in the road and there’s nothing else I can do.

The whine of an ambulance siren cuts across the air. In seconds, the paramedics are here, asking me questions. I tell them I’m a doctor, give them my evaluation. My voice is calm and devoid of emotion, but inside I’m holding on by nothing but the thinnest of threads. They ease her onto the gurney, moving as fast as they can. I stand there, covered in her blood, while they load her into the back of the ambulance.

A second ambulance is nearby, helping the other driver. Police cars block the intersection. Lights flash all around me and a smattering of onlookers peer at the scene of the accident from the fringes.

“She’s lucky you were nearby,” someone says.

I turn to look at the paramedic. The ambulance siren turns on and it starts to drive away.

“She’s my girlfriend,” I say. It doesn’t sound like my voice.

“Cody!” Someone’s calling my name. Ryan.

I blink hard, the world around me going blurry. I look down at my bloody hands.

“Cody, let’s go.”

A cop yells for us to stay. He wants to take a statement. But the paramedic stops him, telling him we’re going to the hospital with the victim.

Hunter and I get in Ryan’s car. I don’t remember how I got here, but I’m sitting in the passenger seat and we’re halfway to the hospital before my brain starts to catch up with me. All I can see is Clover’s face, going pale, her blood all over my hands. Ryan grips the steering wheel, driving fast, the lines around his jaw tense.

We park outside the entrance to the emergency room. Hunter hands me a t-shirt and I realize I’m not wearing one. It was on Clover. Soaking up her blood. I put it on and get out. I’m in a daze.

Reality hits me upside the head when we walk into the ER, and suddenly I’m coherent again.

“I’m Dr. Jacobsen,” I say to the attendant. “I was just at the scene of an accident at the intersection of Main and First in Jetty Beach. Victim was a woman in her late twenties. Severe abdominal laceration, possible internal bleeding, further injuries undetermined. She should have arrived via ambulance in the last five minutes.”

The woman nods. “I’ll check the status for you.” She leaves for a moment, and my heart beats so hard I can barely breathe. She returns. “They already took her to the OR. She’s being prepped for emergency surgery right now.”

That means she’s still alive.

“Would you like to go back and clean up, Dr. Jacobsen?” the woman asks.

I look down at my hands, covered in rust-colored streaks. There’s nothing I can do for Clover except wait. I’m not a surgeon. I can’t scrub in and assist. Even if I was, I’m in no state for it. It’s all I can do to keep from shaking.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

A nurse in blue scrubs comes out and leads us back. I hear Ryan tell the nurse the victim is my girlfriend.

Except she isn’t. Because I fucking left her.

I clean up in a bathroom, and someone leads us to another waiting room. She says the surgeon will come out when he’s finished. She asks us if we want coffee.

I sit down in a chair and lean forward, putting my face in my hands. I smell like the harsh chemical emergency room soap. I still have blood on my pants. My gut churns with fear, and worry, and impotence. There’s nothing I can do and I can’t get over the feeling that this is my fault. If I hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t have been in her car today. We would have been at my place. This shouldn’t have happened.

Please, Clover. Please don’t die.

***

The wait feels like hours. Ryan and Hunter stay, and it isn’t long before my mom and dad are there. Nicole shows up soon after.

I pace around the surgical waiting room. Mom tries to get me to eat something. Everyone else keeps their distance, giving me space. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.

Why didn’t I call her? Or send her a text? I should have, even just to see how she was doing.

I never should have left her in the first place.

I know, with every piece of my soul, that she and I were meant to be together. I knew it this morning, before I was pacing in a fucking hospital, waiting to see if she’s going to live or die. I knew it when I went to her empty house. I knew it when I dropped her off and let her get away.

The surgeon comes out and looks around at us, as if he isn’t certain who he’s supposed to talk to.