Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I have some bad news…” he said softly. “There was a wreck on the interstate. It was a multi-car pileup. Your parents’ car, along with a KPD vehicle holding Sammy was involved in the wreck. At this time” —he shook his head— “we don’t know anymore. The truck that initially began the pileup exploded.”
My heart…
I clutched my chest with both hands and stared at Trist.
“Is he…”
He shook his head, guessing what I was asking before I’d even asked.
“We don’t know yet.” He looked like he was about to cry himself. “The tanker was transporting flammable material. It went up like a… it blew up,” he said. “It’s burning still, right now, but we wanted you to know before you saw it on television.”
My parents.
Oh, God.
Aurora.
She was with them, too.
They’d all gone to the SWAT competition. I’d gotten the text about twenty minutes after Sammy had left.
Aurora went because Sammy had asked them to go and take photos for me. My dad went because my sister didn’t like driving herself.
I’d bailed out this morning when I’d found out that there was something seriously wrong with the book that I had set to release in three days. I’d spent the better part of the morning fixing it and had told Sammy and my parents that if I could make it after getting it fixed, that I would drive there on my own.
My hands lifted to my face to shakily cover my mouth.
Tears started to leak out of my eyes.
“They went because of me,” I whispered. “I told Sammy how cool it was. How cool it’d be to see him compete. Pew, pew, pew.”
The moan had Tristan’s eyes coming to my face.
“Don’t blame yourself, honey,” he murmured softly. “That’s not what happened and you know it.”
But it was.
That was exactly what happened.
They—none of them—would have gone if it wasn’t for me.
“When will we know?” I whispered brokenly.
Trist shook his head. “I don’t know. Whatever chemical they were carrying was bad. And then it mixed with another eighteen wheeler’s contents. It’s… fuck. I don’t even know if the road’ll be open in the next eight hours. They’re having to reroute traffic for eight miles.”
I closed my eyes as the pain started to barrel through me, taking down every single thing in its path.
I felt my knees shake as I turned and walked woodenly to the television, hoping news of what had happened would be on now.
It was.
“Reports show that there were eight members of an inter-department SWAT team that were killed in the crash,” the news reporter said.
My mouth fell open as I whipped my head around.
“What?” I gasped.
Trist’s eyes looked even more haunted.
“They left out from here in a huge convoy. We don’t know anything yet, but honey, it’s not looking good.”
***
Hours later, I’m glued to the television.
One by one, the men of the SWAT team had made their way out of the fire.
All of them dirty, sweaty, covered in black, and alive.
All of them but one.
My guy.
I was in the waiting room at the hospital with the rest of the ladies that belonged to the SWAT team.
Rowen and their infant were the first ones to see their guy.
Then there was Amelia, taking Adam.
Ashe had stood up just a bit later the moment Ford came through the doors, causing his woman to waddle as fast as she could toward him.
Over and over it went, taking Avery, then Ares.
After their reunions were through, they came to sit with me as we all waited.
“Any news?” I heard someone ask.
One of the guys.
I wasn’t sure which.
“No,” another replied. “Can’t fuckin’ believe that man is there acting the goddamn hero.”
I watched the ‘man’ under question.
Patman had, apparently, been broken down on the side of the road.
The accident had, according to him, happened right beside him.
He’d been able to help a lot of the victims get free, some of those being members of the SWAT team, before everything had exploded.
Patman was still helping according to the reporters that were still covering the accident.
“Makes him look good, that’s for sure,” I heard one of the men reply.
“Sure fuckin’ does,” the two men continued to converse. “Let’s not forget about the fact that he’s an asshole and tried to hurt my wife. Did hurt Sammy’s girl. They’ll only remember him for his ‘good deed.’” Ford paused. “I would just like to point out that I was getting out of my vehicle just fuckin’ fine.”
I would’ve laughed had I had the energy.
God, I loved these men.
They were so much like Sammy that it hurt.
All brass and rough around the edges, but they had some really soft hearts underneath all the body armor.
Patman walked across the screen that I was watching, and I narrowed my eyes as he walked to his truck and got inside.
For him being ‘broken down’ on the side of the road, it sure looked like his vehicle worked just fine.