For Lucy

Chapter Ten

NOW

“How’s the house?” Will asks as we walk down rows of large equipment, taking notes on things we want to bid on.

It’s a work trip, but for us it’s also a guys’ getaway. The bummer part is I’m missing my Saturday with Lucy. I’m hoping she takes advantage of Tatum’s willingness to ease visitation restrictions and decides to have dinner with me when I get back in town tomorrow.

“It’s fine.” I shrug.

“It’s not weird?”

I shake my head. “Not to me. I realize nobody understands, but that’s fine. I’m not asking anyone else to live there. And Lucy seems okay with it. Granted, it’s only been two weeks, but we sat around the firepit last week, with her boyfriend, and roasted marshmallows.”

“You don’t think it will be hard to move on while living there?” he asks while climbing into the cab of an excavator.

“Move on? What does that mean? I’m so tired of everyone using that phrase. I’m moving. I’m here. I work. I spend time with Lucy. I eat and shit. I clean and maintain my yard. Pay bills. Visit Mom and Dad at least once a week. I think what you’re implying is that I need to forget about the past. But I don’t want to forget the past. It’s part of who I am today. When I moved out, I didn’t forget about our parents or the rest of our family just because I was making one of my own.”

“How’s your dating life?”

I roll my eyes as Will climbs down wearing a smug expression like he’s managed to make some genius point.

He hasn’t.

“How’s your golf game coming?” I ask.

“Shitty. What does that have to do with what we’re talking about?”

“It’s shitty because you have no desire to play golf or get better at it, even though a lot of your friends and business acquaintances play it. You’re content with going to your grave a shitty golfer. Well, I’m content with going to my grave a single man. I have no desire to date anyone. I wasn’t a big relationship guy before I met Tatum, and I’ve reverted back to that guy now that we’re divorced. So what? Why is it so fucking important to everyone else?”

“We just want to know that you’re okay?”

“Then I’ll get a goddamn shirt that says I’m okay. If the vanity plates for IMOKAY aren’t taken, I’ll get them for my truck. Will that satisfy everyone’s obsession with my psyche?”

“Jeez, man … I’m just trying to help. Tatum has moved on. She moved out of the house, and you dove headfirst into your past. I get not wanting to forget him, but he’s gone. You can’t get him back. You can’t get your wife back. So just love Lucy and love yourself enough to not waste the rest of your fucking life trying to live the life you wanted but do not in fact have.”

“Spoken like an asshole who knocked up the boss’s daughter then inherited his empire—like an asshole who has never had one day of true grief in his entire life.”

He grabs my shirt bringing me close to his face, jaw set, eyes narrowed. “Wake the hell up! We all grieved Austin’s death. And maybe if you would have been a little more fucking responsible, he would still be here.”

Thwack!

I punch him in the nose and blood gushes out as he covers it and stumbles back a few steps. It’s the first time someone besides Tatum has said those words aloud. It’s the first time I’ve ever punched anyone that hard. As a glimmer of regret starts to filter into my conscience, my phone rings.

“Yeah?” I answer a little clipped as Will brings his shirt up to wipe the blood while mumbling, “The fuck, man …”

“Emmett?”

“What, Mom?”

“Emmett … there’s been an accident.”

“Dad? What happened to Dad?”

Will’s eyes narrow as he pinches his nose and steps closer to me. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head slowly because I don’t know—because Mom is not saying what happened.

“Mom? What’s happened?”

“It’s not your dad. It’s … Lucy and Tatum.”

“What about them?”

“Oh, Emmett …” Her voice breaks.

“For Christ’s sake, Mom! Just tell me!”

“They were in a car accident.” A sob escapes.

I can’t fucking breathe. I just … can’t.

“Tatum is going to be fine. She has some cuts and bruises. But Lucy … we don’t know much yet, but she …”

Emotion burns my eyes, intensifying Will’s concern despite his bloodied nose. “She what?” I manage to ask without losing it.

“She’s sustained a spinal injury, and she can’t move her legs.”

I pivot and start running toward the truck.

Six hours.

I’m a six-hour drive away from Lucy and Tatum.

My world is six hours away from me. And until I get there, I will not breathe. My heart will refuse to beat. The longest six hours of my life.

“Jesus, Emmett, tell me what she said!” Will chases me.