Crashed (35 page)

And the air I just got back gets fucking sucker punched right out of me. My foot falters on the gas like a fucking rookie driver from the text displayed on the screen.

Sealed envelope sitting on my desk. Results are back. Call me.

My entire body freezes—lungs, heart, throat, everything. I stare straight ahead, my knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, trying to get a grip on the onslaught of emotions burying me alive.

I force myself to breathe, to blink, to think. The minute my head’s commands to my body click, I swerve across the lane causing horns to blare. I pull into the closest driveway I see, a strip mall parking lot, and slam on the brakes.

I pick up my phone to call my lawyer but put it back down as I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get a handle on the nerves suddenly shooting through me.
This is it
. The answer on the other end of the line is going to be either my biggest fuck up or my greatest relief.

The certainty I felt before that this couldn’t be true, doesn’t feel so fucking certain anymore. I blow out a breath, pound a fist on the console, grab a figurative hold of my balls, and pick up the phone.

Each ring destroys me. It’s like waiting for the chair to be kicked out from beneath my feet with a noose looped harmlessly around my neck.

“Donavan.”

It takes me a minute to respond. “Hey, CJ.” My voice sounds so fucking foreign, like a little kid waiting for his punishment to be decided.

“You ready?”

“Fucking Christ, tell me already, will you?” I bark.

He chuckles as I hear the paper tear. Easy for him to fucking laugh right now when my heart’s hammering, fucking head is pounding, and foot is bouncing on the floorboard. And then I hear CJ exhale.

“You’re good.”

There’s no way I heard him right. “
What
?”

“She lied. The baby’s not yours.”

I pump my fist out into the air and shout. I squeeze my head in both of my hands as the adrenaline hits me at full force, hands tremble and fucking tears well. I can’t even process a thought. I know CJ is talking but I can’t hear him because my heart is pounding in my ears from the adrenaline hitting me like it does at the start of a race. I raise a hand to run it through my hair but stop midair to pound on the steering wheel before scrubbing at my face because I’m so overwhelmed … so inundated with fucking relief I can’t keep a single thought straight, except for one.

It’s not mine.

I didn’t fuck up a poor soul’s life by tainting it with my blood.

By being born to a manipulative bitch like Tawny.

“You okay, Wood?”

It takes me a minute to swallow and find my voice. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Better than okay. Thanks.”

“I’ll have Chase issue a press release for—”

“I’ll cover that,” I tell him, wanting nothing more to than to feed the vultures a taste of crow and get their fucking obtrusive cameras out of our lives for a bit. Let Rylee adjust to my fucking crazy life while we find our footing.

There I go again. Thinking about finding our fucking footing and the future and shit with her. My fucking kryptonite.

Motherfucker.

And it hits me.

Rylee
.

I need to tell her.

“Thanks again, CJ, I gotta call—I gotta go.”

I hang up and immediately start to dial Rylee but my hands are shaking so badly from the adrenaline racing through my blood, I stop for a second.

And then I realize I want to end this once and for all before I talk to Ry. I want to call her with the slate clean so I can tell her this is all behind us. Baby, Tawny, lies—everything is over and fucking done with.

I take a deep breath as I dial the number that used to be so familiar but now just makes my blood boil.

“Colton?” I like the fact she’s surprised, that I’ve caught her off guard.

Time to play ball.

“Tawny.” My voice is flat, unemotional. I don’t say anything else. I want her to squirm. I want her to wonder if I know or not. She’s ballsy enough to lie to my face, let’s see if she’s gonna keep up the fucking charade or lay her cards on the table.

Because fuck if the paternity test isn’t my ace in the hole.

“Hi,” she says so softly that I can’t really figure out if she’s being timid or trying to sound seductive.

Either one has my stomach churning.

I chew my cheek, trying to figure out where I want to go with this conversation because as much as I want to make her suffer, I just want her fucking gone. Sayonara, adios, the whole fucking goodbye. She clears her throat and I know the silence is killing her.

Good.

“Colton,” she says my name again, and I have to bite my tongue, let her suffer. “Did you need something? I—I’m surprised to hear from you …”

“Really? Surprised?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like fucking motor oil. “Now why would that be?”

She starts to stutter out words but none of them get past the first syllable. “Save it Tawn. Just tell me one thing.
Why
?”

When the fuck did she get like this? When did she go from my college sweetheart to the conniving, manipulative bitch on the other end of the line? What the fuck did I miss?

“Why?” she asks, drawing the word out. We’ve been friends for so long, I can tell she’s fishing. She’s looking for a clue so she can take it and twist it and manipulate it into whatever I’m going to say that suits her best.

And I’m done. The innocent routine ended a long fucking time ago when it comes to her and her goddamn lies. At least I recognize it now. After what she did to Ry? And now tried to do to me?

Batter up, sweetheart.

“Yeah, why?” I bite out. “Because you fucking lied through those perfect white teeth of yours? Used my accident to—”

“Colton I didn’t try to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Tawny! I don’t care about your goddamn pathetic excuses! ” I shout at her because I’m on a roll and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to let it out. Release all of the anger and the fear and the uncertainty that’s ruled my fucking life over the past few weeks. Left me a goddamn disoriented mess just like driving blindly into the smoke after a crash to hope I come out the other side of its oppressive fucking haze. “You didn’t try to what?”

My anger’s eating me raw. I need to move. Need to expel some of it so I shove open the door of the Rover and start pacing back and forth, shoving my free hand through my hair as my feet hit the fucking ground beneath me.

“You didn’t try to use my accident—
my fucked up head
—as a means to get what you wanted? Tell me I fucked you when I didn’t? Trap me into being the daddy for your illegitimate kid?
How fucked up is that
? What kind of piece of shit does that, Tawn? Huh? Can you answer me why the woman I used to know—
was my friend
once upon a fucked up time—had to stoop so damn low that you used a kid to try and get me back?”

There’s not enough fucking asphalt in this parking lot right now to help me abate the fucking fury in my veins, because the more I think about it—about what she was trying to do to me—the stronger my rage grows.

Goddamn right she’s quiet
, I tell myself, when she doesn’t respond to a single thing I’ve said. All I hear are whimpering cries on the other end of the line.

“To think I used to care about you. Fucking unbelievable, T.” I shake my head and swallow a huge gulp of air. “Is this how you treat the people you claim to love? Use a kid to manipulate? To fucking deceive to get love?”

“You got back the results.” It’s not a question, just a soft statement that’s eerily calm.

And she knows.

“Yeah, I got them back.” The quiet steel in my voice should have her running for fucking cover.

“You fucked with me once, Tawn. I dealt with it as gently as possible since our families are connected.” I lean my back against the Rover and just keep shaking my head, my pulse racing, and breath panting out in shallow breaths. “But you obviously don’t care about that because you just majorly fucked with me again. Tried to ruin me with the one thing you know would fuck me up more than anything else. So I suggest you listen closely because I’m only going to say this once. I’m fucking done with you. Don’t contact me. You sure as fuck better not contact Ry. And family functions?” I laugh and it sure as fuck isn’t because I’m feeling happy. “I suggest you have the stomach flu or some other reason not to attend. Got it? You were my friend and now you’re just … nothing.”

“Please listen,” she pleads and her voice—the voice that used to mean something—does fucking nothing to me. At all. “Don’t be so cold—”

“Cold?” I shout at her, my body vibrating with anger. “Cold? Cold? Get ready for the polar fucking ice cap because we’re done. You’re dead to me, Tawny. Nothing else left to say.” And I hang up the phone despite the sob I hear coming through the other end. I turn and brace my hands on the side of my car as I process everything. As I try to comprehend how a childhood friend could do that to me.

And I realize it doesn’t really fucking matter. The
whys
, the
what fors
. Any of it.

Because I have Ry now.

Holy shit
. I’m so wrapped up in my head and what I just did, that I forgot the whole reason I did it.

Rylee.

I get in the car as I fumble with the phone in my hand, and it takes me a second to bring her up from my recent calls list. The phone rings but I’m fucking impatient. “C’mon, Ry!” I pound the steering wheel with my fist as the ringing filters through the speakers of the car.

“Hey!” She laughs.

The sound.
My fucking God
, that carefree sound in her voice grabs a hold of my fucking heart and just squeezes it so tight I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s like all of a sudden all of the bullshit is gone with Tawny and the crash, and even though I can’t take a breath, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a long ass time. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Fucking clarity and shit?

I start to speak and I can’t. What the fuck? It’s like I want to say everything to her at once and yet I can’t think of how to start. I start laughing, like batshit crazy laughing, because I’m the middle of some shitty strip mall and it hits me now?

“You okay?” she asks in that sexy tone of hers.

“Yeah,” I choke out through my laughter. “I just—”

The giggle comes through the speaker loud and clear and I just stop talking. It’s Zander’s and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. The sound cuts me fucking open like a filet knife. I swear to God I couldn’t be any more of a chick right now with my emotions all over the fucking place.

“Go get your glove in the backyard and we’ll get going, okay?” I hear him agree through the line. “Sorry, you were going to tell me what was so funny.”

And I start to talk, begin to tell her about the test results when I hear a sound that is so horrifying it reaches into my chest and tears into my hardened heart. “What the fuck is that?” I can’t say it quickly enough because despite the high-pitched scream that sounds like a wounded animal fighting for his life, I can still hear Rylee moving through the phone line.

My stomach churns at the fucking sound and her goddamn silence. “Ry? Tell me what’s going on. Ry?”

“No, no, no, no!” she says and there’s something in her voice—fear, disbelief, and shock mixed with defiance—that has shivers dancing up my spine and has me immediately starting the car and throwing it into gear.

“Goddammit, Ry! Talk to me. What the fuck is wrong?” I yell into the phone, panic overtaking me, but all I hear is her heavy breathing. And then whimpering. “Rylee!”

“You can’t have him!” she says in an eerily calm voice, which sounds far away and has me cutting off some poor fucker in the lane next to me.

“Who’s there, Ry?
Tell me, baby,
please
,” I plead, fear like I’ve only ever known in my youth tasting like bile in my mouth. Fear in my every fucking nerve. I struggle with deciding whether to hang up and call 9-1-1, but that would mean I’d have to hang up on her—not hear her, not know she’s okay.

“You fucking bitch!” is all I hear before she cries out in pain and the phone goes dead.

“No!” I scream and smash my hand into the steering wheel. My eyes blur as I try to push the numbers on my phone, but my fingers are shaking so fucking bad that I can’t even manage 9-1-1 until after the third try.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” The disembodied voice answers.

“Please help them. They’re screaming and … they’re screaming!” I plead with her.

“Who’s screaming, sir?”

“Rylee and Zand…” I can’t fucking think straight; ice floods my veins and my only thought is I need to get to them so I don’t even realize I’m not making any fucking sense. “Please, someone is there and—”

“Sir, what’s your name? What’s the address?”

“Co-Colton,” I stutter out when I realize I don’t even know the fucking address. Just the street. “Switzerland Avenue.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Hang on, baby. Hang on. I’m coming. It’s all I repeat in my head—over and over—as my body shakes.

“What’s the address sir?”

“I don’t fucking know!” I shout at the 9-1-1 operator. “The one with all the goddamn paparazzi out front. There’s no one else in the house but her and a little boy.
Please
! Quickly.”

And when I look up from ending the call, I have to slam on the brakes as I hit fucking road construction.

“Fuck!” I yell, laying in on my horn like it’s my fucking lifeline.

Rylee.

She’s my only thought.

Rylee.

Please God, no.