Page 5 of I'll Be There
Reddened, swollen eyes. A swallow, a nod. Gunnar climbed out of the cab, grabbed the side of the truck bed for a second, as if to steady himself. Conner had the crazy urge to hook his hand under his arm, half carry him to the rig. But he’d have to learn how to stand up, walk on, endure this wound soon enough.
“You’ll notify his parents?” Jed said behind him to Monroe as the kid headed to the ambulance. The EMTs were just loading in his brother.
Conner didn’t need to plead his case to the EMTs—it was enough that Gunnar just stared down at his brother, stiffening, unable to breathe.
Yeah, he needed a hospital. That would be the easy part.
Jed was giving his account to Monroe of what happened when Conner returned. Pete came up, wiped his mouth. Blood came away, across his sleeve. Conner reached into the cab, handed him a bottle of water, but Pete waved it away.
Turned, gripping his hands on his knees.
Reuben stood with his back to them, watching the rig pull away, cross the median ditch, and merge back onto the highway.
Conner’s back pocket vibrated. He clamped his hand on his phone, pulled it out, and thumbed in the unlock code.
The app opened with Liza’s return message.No problem! I can’t wait to see you! We’re going to have a perfect weekend. Drive carefully—it looks like it might rain.
Another text came in behind it.Love you. XOXO.
The ambulance siren blared in the distance, cutting through the weepy, raw morning.
And behind him, Pete lost his morning donut.
She’d survived too much to give up now.
“What do you mean, the guest list exceeds the fire code?” Liza hiked the phone against her shoulder as she pulled out the puff pancake her wedding coordinator-slash-caterer Grace Sharpe had made last night and shoved into her fridge.
“The community center can only hold 178 people. And Grace’s last estimates had you at 180—”
“What if we...I don’t know—stand up? Ditch the tables?” Oh, if Grace heard her, she’d murder the bride on the spot. Liza peeled off the cellophane wrapper, then set her oven to preheat.
“I’m sorry, Liza, there’s nothing I can do. That’s the fire code limit.”
Justperfect. She ran a finger against her temple, now starting to throb. “I’ll figure it out.” She hung up and noticed Conner’s return text.
Ok.
No smiley face, noI love you.
JustOk.
Which probably meant nothing and she was simply hearing the voices that told her that the last thing Conner Young wanted to do was drive halfway across the country, don a tux, and stand in front of a crowd of her friends making promises.
The guy simply didn’t make promises. Not after he’d broken the most important ones in his life. So, him asking to marry her, to make an epic, life-altering, forever vow to her seemed like enough of a sacrifice.
But, no. She had to have the wedding of the century.
A wedding that was careening quickly out of control.
But she had no choice. The wedding had to go off, had to be amazing. Because then she might tell herself that she’d put herself back together. That she was strong enough to follow the man she loved back into her nightmares. Or at least tell him the truth: She didn’t want to move to Montana.
“Are you okay, Aunt Liza?”
Raina Christiansen let herself into Liza’s tiny cottage, setting two-year-old Layla down to run across the room, arms outstretched. The little girl wore a pair of black leggings and a shirt that said “Nana loves me.” Clearly a gift from Ingrid Christiansen, who’d turned a little crazy over her grandchildren.
Liza scooped up her grandniece, kissing her cheek, running her fingers into her side to make Layla giggle. “How’s my favorite princess today?”
“Ina gonna be fwower girl.”
