Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“WAIT! PLEASE!” I yell as Caleb turns to stalk out of the apartment.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m following him as he strides down the sidewalk to his truck.

“Damn it, Caleb! Stop!” I slip on the ice while trying to keep up with him. I’m not even sure he can hear me as rage controls of his body.

He jerks open his door and climbs in his truck. I rush around to the passenger’s side and climb in too. I absolutely refuse to let him do this alone.

“Get out,” he says calmly, starting his truck.

“No, I’m going with you. You are not confronting Eli about this alone.”

“Get. Out. I don’t want you anywhere near this. You’re not fuckin’ going with me.”

“Then you will have to physically remove me from this truck, because hell will freeze over before I get out. Cuss, scream, say hateful words—whatever you need to do. But I am not budging.”

He looks over at me with wild eyes. He’s looking right at me, but his eyes never actually connect with mine. They’re glazed over as if he were drunk, flashing around the truck, probably at the same speed his mind is racing.

“Whatever.” He finally relents and peels out of the parking lot.

My only saving grace in all of this is that Eli lives a good thirty minutes away. I have a little bit of time to try to talk Caleb down.

“He was trying to protect her.”

“Fuck him,” he snaps back at me.

“She was all fucked up, and he was trying to protect her. You would have done the same for me. Or Manda.”

His eyes swing to me. “I never would have left two dying woman on the side of the road. I’m sorry, Emma. Not. Even. For. You.”

I cringe at the truth in his words, and he goes back to silently driving.

I’m not defending Eli. What he did was vile. He silently watched his friends crumble just to cover his own ass. That’s not a man, even if what he was doing was out of love for Casey. This whole situation is fucked up, but something or someone has to defuse Caleb before he explodes on Eli.

“He thought they were both dead,” I whisper, but it only serves to fuel his fire.

“Well he’s a fucking idiot then. It doesn’t take a genius to check for a pulse. You’re not talking me out of this, so please be quiet. He watched all of us fall apart for years without saying a God damn word. Casey at least had the decency to take off and disappear from our lives. Eli has sat in my fucking house pretending to be my friend while keeping this secret. I’m going to kill him!” He bangs his hand on the steering wheel, pushing his truck even faster.

“Please slow—”

Before I can even get another word out, he hits an invisible patch of ice, causing the truck to swerve.

“Caleb!” I scream before the silence takes over.





“EMMA,” I croak out as the ringing in my ears rouses me back to consciousness.

I open my eyes to find my truck lying on the driver’s side. I’m resting against the crushed glass from my window. I painfully turn my head to the side to find Emma hanging lifelessly, suspended by her seatbelt.

“Emma!” I scream, reaching for her, but I can’t quite touch her. I fight against my seatbelt, desperate to get to her. Oh God. “Emma, please. Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming. I’m coming,” I chant as I struggle to get the damn restraint off.

It’s fucking stuck, and I’m pinned to my seat while Emma might as well be dying inches away from me. She hasn’t moved, and her head is hanging at an unnatural angle. Bile threatens to rise into my throat as I look down at her pregnant stomach being pulled snug by the seatbelt. I’m going to lose them both. I can feel it. The cycle of my life is about repeat itself.

My body finally kicks into gear and a jolt of adrenaline hits me hard, sending strength through my veins.

“Emma!” I yell while frantically pushing and pulling on the buckle of my seatbelt until, with the most magical click I have ever heard, it becomes unstuck.

I kneel up and immediately check for a pulse, ready to start CPR even before I can free her from the truck. I won’t lose them. I’m reclaiming my life here and now. The rhythm of her heart against my fingers rejuvenates me.

The relief is short-lived. She’s still alive, but even as I stroke her face, she doesn’t wake up.

“Are you okay in there?” I hear the voice of a Good Samaritan from outside.

“Call 911!” I scream, continuing to work to get Emma free. “Come on, Emmy. Stay with me,” I plead. “I need help! I need to get her out of here.”

“Can you lift her? I’ll grab her if you can get her up to the door,” The man says.

I can hear him climbing onto the side of the truck and trying to pry open the stuck door. I reach up, pull the lock, and push into his pulls. Together, we manage to get it open.