Page 52 of Every Heartbeat After

“Please,” she cries, her hand closing around my forearm. Tears pool in her lower lashline, spilling in mascara-darkened drips onto her cheeks. “Please stay.”

“I will be right back, Tess.” She’s panicking, and while I want nothing more than to stay here with her and comfort her through this, my sense of duty overwhelms even this most demanding of instincts. I pop the seat belt free and lean forward over the center console. Her skin is clammy beneath my lips when I press them first to her forehead and then her nose, drawing her scent in like the anchor it is. “It’ll be okay. You just stay here and call 911.”

Her stricken expression as I pull away will haunt me for far longer than many of the horrors I’ve faced in my career.

I’m soaked to the bone within seconds of exiting the vehicle. While the storm has weakened, the rain still falls in thick rivulets, pouring from the crown of my head and blurring my vision. I curse myself for not at least grabbing a ball cap from the back seat.

Water splashes up my calves as I jog to the driver’s-side window. They’re tinted way darker than they should be, and the rain makes it too hard to see past even with my hands cupped over the glass. I knock, hoping whoever’s inside will let me know they’re fine, just waiting on a tow truck. But when no one responds after about twenty seconds, I suck in a waterlogged breath and yank on the handle.

To my surprise, the door flies open. Airbags fill every corner of empty space. Garish red brushstrokes mar their white surfaces, immediately flooding my nose with the heavy tang of iron. Slumped in the driver’s seat is a woman just a few years older than me, bleeding from her nose and hairline. I duck under the cover of the car as best I can and press two fingers to her throat. Her pulse is weak, but blessedly present.

“Ma’am, I’m Deputy Kit Llewellyn. I’m here to help.”

There’s no flinch in response to my loud voice. Just a muted cry that barely reaches my ears. I narrow my eyes at her slackened jaw, realizing it’s not the woman making the noise. Through a gap in the headrests, which are crumpled far too closely together, I catch a glimpse of a small boy in a booster seat with tears pouring down his reddened face.

Shit.“Hold tight; I’m coming!” I close the door as gently as possible and circle the hood. To my surprise, Tess is already there, opening the child’s door.

“What are you doing?” I shout, covering her hand with mine and curving over her in an effort to shield her from the rain.

When she glances up, her eyes are wide with fear. “I had to—to help. Had to help.”

I reach past her to the boy’s balled fist. He’s no more than six, with a Paw Patrol sticker slowly peeling away from his instantly rain-slicked forearm. He wails earnestly now, calling for his mama. I squeeze his trembling hand in mine. “Mama is resting. She bumped her head. But help is on the way. What’s your name?”

His bottom lip quivers. He has thick black hair that’s plastered to his forehead. Big, blue eyes blink up at me. “Brayden.”

“Hi, Brayden, I’m Deputy Llewellyn. You can call me Kit, though. Like a Kit Kat. Do you like Kit Kats?”

He nods. His gaze cuts briefly to Tess, then back to me.

“Good. Me too.” I offer him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’m a policeman, Brayden. That means I’m a good guy. More good guys are going to come, too, and they’ll help you and your mama. I promise.”

Tess’s nails bite into my shoulder. I glance back at her, and she’s white as a sheet. Her hair sticks to her neck in thick, rain-darkened clumps. With her gaze trained on the front seat, she sways on her feet.

I pull her into my side and lean close, so my lips brush her slick ear as I speak. “Get back to the car. I will stay with him. It’s okay, Tess. His mom is alive; she’s just hurt. Did you call 911?”

She retreats enough to face me, pink lips parted. “She’s alive?”

I nod. She’s going into shock, and it’s imperative that I get her out of the rain. “Yes. Did you call 911?”

This time it’s her that nods, a deep wrinkle forming between scrunched-up brows.

“Good. Now go get warm.” I kiss her softly, without thinking. “It won’t be like your parents.”

At that, tears pour from her eyes, blending with the rain. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

I don’t know if she fully believes me, but it’s enough for her to walk away. Or stagger, more accurately. When I turn back to Brayden, he’s staring at his mother. There’s a laceration on his temple, likely from hitting the window. But it’s superficial. As I quickly check over his body for other injuries, I scramble for something to talk about to distract him. “Brayden, are you from here? From Mississippi?”

“No,” he says, and his gaze cuts back to mine. “But I can spell it. Mama taught me how.”

“That’s so impressive,” I say as distant sirens finally reach my ears. “I’ve been struggling with it myself. Would you teach me?”

A missing front tooth splits his hesitant smile in half. He spells it out the way my grandmother taught me, years ago on a sloped front porch with stray kittens curled up in my lap.M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-humpback-humpback-I.I hum it with him, replacing that bloody tang with the memory of Grandma’s powdery perfume as he goes.

On the tail end of the final humpback, a fire engine breaks through the wall of water, and I exhale fully for the first time since the rain started falling.

ChapterTwenty

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