Doc (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 2)

But two-year-old Macy is the cutest damn thing since sliced bread and worth every broken dream.

“I’m not Clinton,” I say.

“I know.” She huffs out a breath of air. “Anyway, let’s not talk about it anymore tonight. You’re too drunk, and I’m still trying to process two positive pregnancy tests.”

“I’m not too drunk to know that I love you,” I slur. “And I’m going to marry you, Christy Day. I’m going to marry you and make you so fucking happy.”

I feel the warm rush of hope when a small smile tugs at her beautiful mouth.

“Is that a fact?”

“Fuck, yeah, it is. What do you say about that?”

Before she can answer, a pair of bright headlights appear out of nowhere and hit us with a ferocious force. The jolt rattles my bones and thrusts me against the window. We fly through the air, tumbling and spinning as broken glass glitters around us like confetti. When we come to an abrupt stop, I’m hanging upside down with blood dripping down my face.

What the hell just happened?

Instinct takes over, and I reach for the seat belt buckle and push it hard. The moment it frees, I crash to the top of the car, and broken glass bites into my skin, but I barely feel the pain. All I know is, I need to get my girl and myself out of this truck.

Immediately, I look over at Christy. Her eyes are closed, and blood is gushing from a cut to her neck. Despite being drunk and useless as fuck, I manage to get her free and drag her out of the wreck and onto the deserted road.

There is no movement in the other car, but I can’t think about them now. Not when my girl is bleeding all over the damn road.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” My words break into the eerie silence of the night. We’re on a semi-rural road leading out of town toward the trailer park where I live in with my dad, and there is no one else around. The only light comes from the headlights of the car that ran into us.

Christy starts to cough, and blood bubbles up from her throat.

“Oh, sweet Jesus… help!” I start to yell, and my voice echoes across the vast cornfield beside us. “Help… somebody, please!”

I don’t know what to do.

Christy opens her eyes, and I see the panic in them.

“Oh, baby… tell me what to do…” I pat her face with my shaking hands as if I could push the blood back inside her. “I don’t know what to do… somebody, please help us!”

Christy coughs again, and more blood spills out of her mouth and gushes from the wound in her neck. Remembering the first-aid course I took in gym class last year, I press my hands against her throat, trying to stem the flow of blood, trying to do something. Fucking anything.

“Stay with me, baby,” I cry. “Don’t you die on me.”

Her eyes fix to mine, and I know I’m losing her. The panic in them fades and is replaced with sadness.

Oh God, she’s dying.

“Don’t leave me,” I sob. “Tell me what to do…”

I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I can’t, and she’s fucking dying.

“Somebody… help us… please!” I beg into the dark night.

But there’s nobody.

Christy grabs my shirt and twists her hands into the fabric.

“I’m here, baby…” I cry.

Tears stream down my face. Time is running out.

“I love you, baby… I love you.”

Help finally arrives. It’s our school principal and his wife coming home from a night out.

They call an ambulance, and when it arrives, an EMT tries to untangle my fingers from Christy’s, but I don’t want to let her go.

I don’t ever want to let her go.

“No!” I try to fight him. “I have to stay with her.”

But I’m too weak to fight. I’ve lost blood, and I’m dizzy as fuck.

Two EMTs get me onto a stretcher and fill my veins with something that makes me warm, soft, and heavy all at the same time.

Dazed, I stare up at the starry sky, knowing with a sickly feeling that my life is about to change for the worse.

I pass out in the back of the ambulance, and when I wake, I’m in a hospital bed, tethered to an IV with my leg in plaster. My dad stands with the doctor at my bedside. I ask about Christy, but I know she’s gone before they say anything.

I knew the moment I opened my eyes that I’d woken up in a world where she no longer existed.

My old man holds my hand as they deliver the news.

They say she died from a massive blood loss.

If medical help had gotten to her on time, she would’ve survived.

But I’d been the only one there. A drunk seventeen-year-old who was so wasted he could barely see two inches in front of him.