My chest squeezes, and my throat dries as I nod. “I have.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Just that you knew,” I say. “Nothing more than that.” Remi opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but I cut him off before he has the chance. “I’m sorry, Remi. We shouldn’t have kept this from you.”
Holding up a hand, he asks, “What are your intentions with him?”
I lift a brow, taken aback by the question. “Uh, I’m sorry?”
He chuckles. “I already talked to Hollis yesterday, and know where his head’s at, so now I wanna know where yours is.”
My curiosity piques. “And where is Hollis’s head at?”
“Ask him for yourself.” He bites back a grin before saying, “Answer the question, Cap.”
I don’t say anything right away, the knot in my stomach tightening as I consider the question. He wants to know how I feel about Hollis, and the thing is… I know how I feel, but saying that out loud, toRemi, of all people, is a little nauseating. Hollis and I have done a great job at skating over any conversation even remotely close to how we feel, or what wewant, and to be honest, I’m not sure who’s avoiding it more at this point.
“This is a little weird,” I murmur, sitting back in my chair, and linking my fingers together over my stomach.
Remi snorts. “Yeah, well, so is my boss bangin’ my best friend, yet here we are.”
A chuckle flies from me before I can help it. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue to give him the same answer I gave Chandler the other day:It’s complicated… But it’s not complicated.
Not anymore.
Heaving a sigh, I say, “Remi, I—” But I’m cut off when the alarm sounds, and dispatch comes over the radio.
“Engine 14, Rescue 14, respond to a single motorcycle accident. Location is northbound on Highway forty-three near mile marker thirteen. Caller reports one rider down in the roadway, not moving. Unknown injuries. Law enforcement en route.”
My body freezes, stomach dropping as Remi and I look at one another. Something shifts in my chest, tightening and making it hard to breathe. My mind shouldn’t go there—not with the job, not with protocol, and because it probably isn’t true—but it does. Fast. Remi’s eyes are wide, the color draining from his face, and before he even opens his mouth, I know he’s thinking the same thing.
“It’s Hollis.” The words are like a bucket of ice as we both jump out of our chairs.
I shake my head, hands trembling as I throw on my gear. “No, he’s on the ranch.”
“It’s him,” Remi repeats, firmer this time.
The blood whooshes in my ears, my body on high alert as I work to steady the rapid beating in my chest.It can’t be.
“You don’t know that, Remi,” I snap harsher than I intend to, an edge of panic in my tone.
“The last I talked to him, he was headin’ into town to meet with a couple guys about some cattle.”
Fuck.
My crew rushes around me, but I don’t see any of them. Nausea churns in my gut, my skin on fire, yet I feel freezing. “When was that?”
He checks his phone as we climb into the engine and pull out of the station. “An hour ago.”
I can’t think straight. The siren wailing sounds sharper than usual, and every second longer we’re on the road feels like a second stolen or lost. My knuckles blanch from how hard I’m gripping the doorframe. It doesn’t take long to arrive on scene, but with every red light we blow through, every car we have to go around, I do my absolute best to remain positive, to hold back the part of me that’s breaking loose at the seams. The part of me begging the universe to let it not be Hollis.
I’m trained for chaos—we all are—for control in the worst of situations, but as I jump out of the rig, rushing toward the scene, and see a helmet that looks all too familiar, I feel my heart stop. Logic fades as I run over to the body lying on the concrete as fast as I can, Remi hot on my heels. I’m grasping for hope as I scan his body and the scene. Hollis is unconscious on the side of the highway, and there’s blood.
My gaze darts around, panic rising and burning a path up my throat.
Where is the blood coming from?
Is he okay?
