Untouchable (Unstoppable 1)

A sob tore through me when Owen’s body jerked violently. An urgent voice rang out over my head. Someone firmly maneuvered me aside.

“We’re losing him!”

Arms eased me away from the scene until the gurney quickly disappeared through another set of doors. I stared blankly as they swayed closed, coming together briefly before swinging open again. They swished back and forth several times, before coming to a complete stop. Commotion and noise surrounded me, but it couldn’t compete with the chaos inside my head. I felt disconnected, like I could hear everything through a thick wall of glass, muffled. The same thoughts raced through my head, over and over, shifting and changing. Whichever way I formed them, the truth remained unchanged.

Owen was here. With stab wounds. Someone had stabbed Owen. Multiple times.

And they were losing him.

My eyes shot wide, eventually coming to rest on the concerned face of a man who looked to be mid-twenties hovering over me. “Do you know him, Miss?”

“I, we... we live in the same trailer park,” I mumbled, barely finding my voice as I glanced away. Sucking in a breath, I looked up again and said, “But I’m his brother’s girlfriend

. And they brought his dad in today with a heart attack.” My voice broke, rivers of water cascading down my face. “His brother is here. Waiting to see if their dad will make it.”

There was a quick flicker of surprise on his face, but not to the extent that he couldn’t believe what I’d told him. He was one of the EMTs who’d brought Owen in, his uniform still marked with smears of blood. He’d seen it all. He knew how cruel life could be.

My breath caught in my throat, and I held his solemn gaze through a thick veil of tears. My voice came out a whisper, small and childlike.

“Is he going to die?”

Seventeen

Riley

I moved on autopilot as I made my way back to Reno, simultaneously reluctant and desperate to get to him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to support him and show him I loved him, but I came bearing news I wouldn’t want to bestow on my worst enemy. Gasping on a cry, I raised the back of my hand to my open mouth, silently heaving.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t tell him his brother was here fighting for his life along with his dad. How could I tell him that? My knees buckled as I sank to the floor, my back sliding down the surface of the wall behind me. Burying my face in my hands, I sucked in a steadying breath and clenched my fingers into fists. After a few minutes spent fighting to pull myself together, I dragged myself to my feet and walked toward the doors leading into the waiting room where Reno would be. Sitting or pacing, all alone.

Except, when I got there, he wasn’t alone. He was sitting, head hung low between his thighs and both hands gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. A doctor crouched in front of him, his large dark-skinned hand resting on Reno’s bent knee. They both looked up when I pushed through the doors.

And I knew.

My hand flew to cover my mouth as one lone tear worked its way over Reno’s lower lid and bounced to the speckled linoleum beneath his feet.

Brett didn’t make it.

I asked without asking. One hand still covered my mouth while the other pressed into the wall, trying to find something to grasp onto and keep myself upright.

He answered without words. A simple shake of his head. Another tear escaped, and he turned away from me.

The doctor’s mouth formed a sympathetic grimace as he squeezed Reno’s knee, then rose to stand. Glancing in my direction, he inclined his head in what seemed to be condolences and left the room.

I ran to Reno’s side, wrapping my arms around his neck and tucking my face into his shoulder. I needed to be the strong one; keep myself together so he could fall apart, but the burden I carried pressed down on me like a giant’s fist, the weight crushing, unbearable. His arms came around me, and I positioned myself sideways across his lap. His head rested in the crook of my neck, quickly dampening the material of my sweater. I held tighter, trying to keep all the pieces of him together, because the thought of what was still to come terrified me.

A few minutes passed before he shifted, lifting me easily from his lap to the chair beside him.

“I’m so sorry, Ren,” I choked.

He lifted his head slowly and brought his eyes to mine. “Did you get through to Owen?”

I felt the blood drain, my entire body growing cold as the breath froze in my lungs.

His brows drew together, thick, black slashes angling down on his unusually pale face. He must have read the dismay on my face. “What? Is he coming?”

My features crumpled as I reached to cover his hand with mine. “Ren,” I started, but the words wouldn’t come, couldn’t make their way past the boulder of grief blocking my windpipe. I dropped my head.

“What? Riley, what’s going on?”