Page 5 of Fighting His Fate
He’d introduced her to his cousin Luke after she went through hell with a creepy ex-boyfriend who couldn’t let go. Setting her up with a cop had seemed like a good idea, and she and Luke had hit it off, getting married a year later.
But Brett hadn’t seen Joni or Luke in years. He couldn’t. They would have seen how he’d changed, pressed him for details he had no desire to give. It had been easier to ignore their attempts to contact him.
Easier and wrong.
And now there’s no taking it back.
They were dead by the time he got here, a nurse ushering him into this room.
His mouth tasted like shit. The preacher was talking. He was Grace’s boyfriend, and his eyes were slightly too close together. How had he never noticed that before now? The absurdity of the thought struck him, but his brain was misfiring, the shock of the news he’d just received failing to register even as it suffocated his soul.
He’d loved these people more than they could know.
More than they ever would.
The minister leaned forward, tenting his hands. “They didn’t feel any pain.”
Brett winced. “She was alive for two hours. How the hell do you know what she felt?”
“She never regained consciousness. From the moment of impact, she was spared awareness.”
Spared awareness.
Like it was a goddamn gift to be run over like a rabbit in the road.
He could see himself in the minister’s glasses, a tiny reflection of himself in the worst moment of his life, and he imagined Grace and this man kissing awkwardly, noses bumping together. It was easier to do that than to think about the accident, this incomprehensible loss.
Did this guy and the nurse fuck, or was that against the rules?
I’ll bet he wears his socks to bed and tucks the sheets in tight.
He reined in his imagination, the stark reality of death hulking over him like the reaper himself. It was hot. He was sitting in a tiny room with too much furniture, the hospital air tangy with the scent of antiseptic, and for a moment he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here.
The knock at the door.
News of the accident.
She’s still alive. Come quickly.
But Joni was dead by the time he arrived. Nausea gurgled in his stomach. He raked his hands through his hair. He needed to escape, needed to get away from this twilight zone moment and the piercing ache of tragedy. He needed to be alone, to sit in his apartment in the dark for a week, ten days. Maybe the rest of his goddamn life. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
He would take some time off from HERO Force. Or better yet, tell Mac to send him wheels up right now, give him a mission and a gun and let him use this grief as fuel for the fire.
But Preacher John was still talking. “…and we need to find the next of kin. As Mr. Matheson’s cousin, we’re hoping you can point us in the right direction.”
Next of kin. Focus. Get through this conversation, and you can leave.
“Joni didn’t talk to her mom. Her dad wasn’t a part of her life. I don’t even think she knew for sure who he was.”
“Any siblings?”
Brett shrugged. “A half brother in Des Moines died in a motorcycle accident a few years back.”
“What about Luke?”
“His mom died of cancer when he was little. His dad remarried.”
“Where’s his father now?”
