Man Down by Kate Meader

Author:Kate Meader
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kate Meader LLC

22

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

I reached over to the passenger seat, blindly because of the dark liquid in my eyes. Blood. I hauled my hand back and wiped, taking a few seconds to allow the scene to come into focus. The air bags had gone off. There was a dripping sound—the fuel line?—and a metallic-oil smell.

Kelly’s head was at a weird angle but her eyes were open.

“Kel—Kel! Can you hear me?”

She tried to move. Nothing happened. But I saw the effort in her eyes. Her body refused to cooperate.

“I—I can’t feel my legs. Can’t feel any-anything.”

“Just stay still, sweetheart.” I turned my head, shifted in my seat, doing a quick check of my body for injuries. The side window had caved in and some of the glass must have slashed my forehead and cheek. It stung but other than that, I was remarkably intact.

Except I couldn’t move.

I pushed at the airbag but behind it, the entire dash had lurched a foot forward, trapping me in place.

“Janie! Danny! Can you hear me? Can you hear Daddy?”

Nothing for a second, then a wail. Janie. That’s my girl.

“Daddy, my leg hurts.”

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna take care of it.” I hauled a breath into lungs restricted by imaginary steel bands. “Danny, you okay, buddy?”

Nothing. Panic set in, not the creeping chill of before, but bone-whittling fear. Why wasn’t my son responding?

“Danny! Wake up, Danny!

“G-man, it’s okay.” Someone shook Gunnar’s shoulder and his first instinct was to lash out and connect.

“Fuck!”

He bolted upright and realized his mistake. Theo stood over him, holding his jaw, looking as wounded as a just-kicked puppy.

“Theo? What are you doing—?” In his bedroom. Only, this wasn’t his bedroom. He looked around, taking in Kershaw’s living room. Memories of last night rushed back for a morning meet-and-greet.

Sadie. They had—Jesus. And after, weighted down with shame, he had needed unchallenging company. Three beers later, he’d taken a snooze on Theo’s sofa.

“Shit, did I hit you? I’m sorry, T.”

Still rubbing his jaw, Theo said, “Yeah, you hit me! Have you any idea how much this face is worth?”

Gunnar swiped the sleep from his eyes and swung his legs to the floor. “Your beautiful face will survive. Now you know not to approach a man in the middle of a bad dream.”

Theo sank into the sofa. “Was it about your family? The crash?”

Kershaw would never be known for his tact, but that’s what Gunnar liked about him: he was a straight shooter. A tactless straight shooter.

“Yeah. I haven’t dreamed about them in a while. In fact, here in Chicago, I haven’t been dreaming much at all.”

Except about Sadie Yates’s lush curves. That had to be why the dream was returning: soul-crushing guilt. Giving her that orgasm, the sensation of her unraveling in his arms, had felt so good. He’d forgotten how amazing it felt to give someone else pleasure, to watch that sweet surrender.

But it had meant another shift in the sands of time. Another door shut on his old life.

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