Ending the call, I hop out of my truck and tuck my phone back into the front pocket of my safety vest. My back hits the door as I run a rough hand down my face.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me? Beth tells me she used to be homeless, and I act like a fucking psycho and yell at her for not mentioning this to me before? Yeah, I calmed down, but initially . . . shit, I fucking yelled at her. I was frustrated, angry, confused as hell for feeling frustrated and angry. I don’t know why. I know how this woman gets to me. I know she’s going to make me feel things I don’t understand. But it didn’t matter. The second those words came out of her mouth, I lost it. The thought of Beth living on the streets had me seconds away from smashing out every window of my goddamn truck. Someone could’ve grabbed her, could’ve put their fucking hands on her. Then I got jealous of every other person she’s told about this before me. I can’t handle not knowing everything about this woman. The good, the bad, the fucking ugly shit she gets quiet about. I want all of it, and I want her to feel like she can give it to me.
I’m sure I’ve made her feel real comfortable about sharing personal shit with me now.
My phone rings in my vest. Pushing off from the truck, I reach for it as I walk back over to the job site. Mia’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey.”
She takes in a shuddering breath. “I know you’re working, Reed, but is there any way you can come over? Like right now? Please?”
My footsteps abruptly cut short, kicking up dust out of the gravel. She’s crying. Why is she crying? “Mia, what’s going on?”
“It’s Ben,” she answers through a whimper. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t . . .”
“Fuck! Was he shot? I’m at St. Joseph’s now. Are they bringing him here?” I start off running toward the entrance to the hospital.
Shit! Motherfucking shit! The boys. Mia. This can’t be happening.
“No, no Reed. He’s home. I said I need you to come here.”
“Oh.” I skid on the gravel. “Mia, what . . .”
“Reed!” Tessa yells into the phone.
“Jesus Christ.” I rub my ear with my free hand, then raise the phone back up, keeping it at a safe distance from Tessa’s mouth.
Why is she yelling at me?
“Get over here! My brother needs you. Mia needs you. Stop asking a million fucking questions and move!”
The call disconnects. I stare at the screen. What the hell could be going on?
“Weston!” I yell out to one of my laborers as I take off running back to my truck.
He looks up at me. “Yeah, boss?”
“I need to go. Go find Connor and tell him he can reach me on my cell. And call the shop and let my dad know I’m leaving the site.”
He nods and gives me a thumbs up.
My heart is pounding by the time I settle against the leather seat. I strip off my vest, throwing it and my hard hat into the back. Tires spinning, I peel out on the gravel and take off toward the gate. My mind tries to work out possible scenarios, all of them scary as fuck.
The kids could’ve gotten hurt. I could’ve left one of my tools out from working on the deck and Nolan could’ve grabbed it. He’s obsessed with watching me. Maybe he was trying to copy what I was doing or something.
My breathing becomes heavier. I tug at the collar on my T-shirt, loosening the choke-hold the material suddenly has on my neck.
Chase.
Fuck, what if Mia had him up on the deck and he got too close to the railings. He’s so small. Could he fit through the slats? Did I even secure the railings this past weekend? I told Mia she could walk out on the deck, but fuck! I’ll never forgive myself if that shit wasn’t one hundred percent safe.
Wait, no, they’d be on their way to St. Joseph’s if something happened to one of the kids. That can’t be it. So, what the fuck? What would make Mia that upset, or Ben? What the hell is going on?
My fist connects with the steering wheel. This is why I was asking a million fucking questions, Tessa!
I weave in and out of traffic, running two red lights to get to the house as quick as possible. A patrol car is in the driveway, Tessa’s Rav4, and another car I recognize as Beth’s. I stop beside it after jumping down from my truck.
It’s small, a two door beater looking Chevy, with paint chipping everywhere and rust spots covering the roof. Bending down, I look into the backseat. Some blankets, a few T-shirts, and some shit that looks like trash cover the seat and the floor. My neck muscles twitch.
She lived in this.
I straighten up, fingers pinching the top of my nose, chest heaving against my shirt. I can’t think about this shit right now. I can’t think about her being alone, how scared she might’ve been. Not with whatever the hell is going on inside.
“Hello?” Pushing the door open, I listen for voices as I look around the entryway. “Mia?”