CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JAMES
I raise my coffee to my lips, eyes locked on the map spread out over the hood of the pickup. I’ve been staring at this thing for at least twenty minutes. It’s old; some of these roads probably don’t even exist anymore. But the big cities are still marked, so I know exactly where not to go.
“Who did Axel say runs Denver?” Michael asks, tracing his finger along the map, following the road from the lake house to the city.
“Tyler. One of the Reed brothers,” I answer, crossing my arms. The name scratches at something in the back of my mind. “Tyler… haven’t we heard that name before?”
Michael’s eyes narrow as he thinks, then widen. “I know! That gang at the old library. When Brandon caught me in the woods, he asked if Tyler sent me there.”
“Shit, you’re right.” The memory flickers through my head like a bad movie. “Tyler makes gangs follow his rules? That’s a first. Gangs don’t follow anyone else’s rules; they just stick to their own territory.”
Ryan nods beside me. “Aaron answered to him too.”
I blink. Wait, what?
I turn to him. “You know Tyler? Like, face-to-face?”
“Yeah, I know him.”
Ryan’s voice is tight as he rubs his forearm through the fabric of his shirt. That tension in his voice? It’s not just nerves. It’s memory. Bad ones.
“He came to Aaron’s place once,” he continues.
“Tyler acts like he’s doing trades. You give him what he wants, and he gives you something back.
But it’s all bullshit. It’s just a way to get people under his thumb.
Aaron always handed over the cars I fixed up, no questions asked.
Tyler and his two brothers showed up in Denver a few years back. Now, everyone answers to them.”
I frown. “It’s just him and his brothers, right? How the hell do they pull that off?”
Ryan lets out a dry laugh. “Because they’re fucking ghosts, if you ask me.”
“Ghosts?” Michael asks, leaning forward.
Ryan’s fingers tighten on his forearm. “Yeah, ’cause if you’re looking for him, you’ll never find him. But if you’re his target, you can be damn sure he’ll find you.”
Michael looks over at me. “What do you want to do?”
I take another sip of coffee, mulling it over.
We’re too close to that city. The lake house is safe for now, just like the cabin was, until it wasn’t.
Everyone’s rested, as calm as we’ve been in weeks, but something about this trip north doesn’t feel right anymore.
They’re looking for me, and if they find me, they’ll find her, and that’s not something I’ll let happen.
“I need more time to think about it.”
I turn back toward the house, and that’s when I hear Sarah’s voice, light and teasing, drifting down from the roof.
“No way. You really did that?”
“Yep!” Lorelai says, sounding all smug.
They burst into laughter, the kind that echoes, and I don’t need to hear more to know exactly what they’re talking about. Sex. A grin tugs at my lips.
“You should totally do it with James,” Lorelai adds. “That night, Ryan wrecked me. I couldn’t even move for like ten minutes.”
“If we’re gonna keep talking about this, I need more lemonade,” Sarah says, and I can just picture her face turning red, even though I can’t see her from here.
Their laughter drifts up to me again, followed by footsteps. I soak in the calm—
Something cracks.
Glass? Wood?
Then comes the sound that snaps my head toward the roof.
A cry. A broken cry. A cry of pain.
My stomach lurches.
“James! Michael! Sarah’s hurt!” Lorelai screams.
The words hit me like a bolt of lightning.
Time slows down.
Then everything kicks into motion.
I drop my coffee—it hits the ground with a dull thud, forgotten—and I sprint. My legs move before my brain can even catch up. I don’t remember climbing the stairs or even breathing, just a blur of motion.
When I reach the roof, I hear Sarah crying before I even see her.
She’s stuck halfway through a hole in the roof, one leg jammed between the boards.
Her face is pale and streaked with tears.
Lorelai is crouched beside her, holding her hand, murmuring something I can’t hear over the pounding in my ears.
I drop to my knees beside her. “Sarah.”
She hiccups through her tears. “James, it really hurts.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
“It’s bad, James. I can feel it.”
“Don’t worry. You’re gonna be fine. Let’s see what happened.”
I grab one of the broken shingles and snap it in half so it won’t cut into her leg as I work to free her. There’s no blood, thank God, but her leg’s jammed so deep into the roof I can’t even see her foot.
I lift her leg carefully, and the second it’s free, a chill runs through me. Her ankle’s bent at an angle that’s just wrong.
Shit!
“Oh no… it’s my ankle,” she mutters, staring down at it like her worst fear just came true.
She tries to move her foot, but it doesn’t work.
“I’m really s-sorry, James,” she says between sobs.
“It’s not your fault, baby.”
“I s-swear, I was walking in the right path.”
I cup her face, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Hey, hey. It’s not your fault, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Tell me what you need, baby. I’ll do it,” I ask, keeping my voice as calm as I can.
“I… I need my brother.”
Her words have barely left her mouth when I hear boots pounding up the stairs. Then Michael’s head pops up over the roofline.
“Sarah?” Michael calls, his eyes scanning like he’s ready to fight, until they land on her.
“Big brother, it’s my ankle. Again.”
Michael is next to me in seconds, kneeling to check her ankle. His fingers find the sore spots like he’s done this a thousand times. She doesn’t even have to tell him. And suddenly, it clicks.
“Wait a minute. Again? How many times has this happened to your ankle?”
I swear she almost laughs at the way I blurt it out.
“I think it’s better for your health if you don’t know,” she says, finally cracking a smile.
Michael smiles too, like it’s some inside joke I missed out on.
I know she gets hurt a lot, and for her, it’s practically normal. But for me, it’s never that simple. Every time, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of me. I hate seeing her in pain, no matter how tough she is.
I lift her into my arms, and her hands wrap around my neck. I glance back at the hole her leg was stuck in, and the thought of how much worse it could’ve been makes me go cold.
Two hours later, I’m back on the roof with a piece of wood, some nails, and a hammer. Sarah’s in our room, resting after Michael patched her up. I wanted to stay with her, but he’s keeping her company, and I can’t leave the roof the way it is.
The roof. Seriously, what’s wrong with the ground? Or better yet—why does the girl I can’t stop thinking about have to love the one place that scares the hell out of me? Yeah, that’s just the universe fucking with me. No doubt about it.
“Making it Sarah-proof?”
Her voice catches me off guard, and I nearly drop the hammer.
My head snaps up, and there she is, standing near the edge of the lake.
She’s leaning on two black crutches, her bandaged foot hovering just above the ground.
A second later, Michael strolls out behind her, hands in his pockets, keeping a casual eye on her.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I blurt out, standing up so fast I get dizzy. I can’t believe she’s standing there, like nothing even happened.
“Michael found these crutches in the closet for me, so I figured I’d go hunting with him,” she says, deadpan.
“WHAT?”
They both laugh out loud.
But I’m not buying it. I know Sarah too well. She would pull something like that just to watch me lose my mind.
“Relax.” She flashes that grin I can never stay mad at. “We’re just going to watch the sunset from the dock.”
I watch her head toward the dock with Michael, gripping the crutches like a pro. The meds must be helping. She’s moving like it doesn’t hurt anymore, even though I know it still does.
When they reach the edge, Michael takes the crutches from her and sets them down on the dock. Then he helps her ease into a seat beside him.
“Sorry I slowed us down. Now we have to wait at the lake house for my ankle to get better before we head north,” Sarah says softly.
Michael scratches his chin. “It’s fine. I kinda like it here.”
She looks out over the water. “You think Dad would’ve liked this place?”
Michael shoves his hands back in his pockets. “There were only three things Dad ever really loved: Mom, you, and the ranch.”
Sarah shakes her head. “That’s not true. He loved you too—don’t ask me why.”
She laughs, and Michael reaches over to ruffle her hair.
“You’re lucky I don’t throw you in the lake for that one.”
She swats his hand away, but he just grins.
“So,” he adds, “Lorelai’s teaching you to cook? You sure that’s safe?”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “I only burned one dish last time.”
Michael arches a brow. “Just try not to burn any curtains this time.”
“That was one time!” she protests, throwing her hands in the air. “And who puts curtains in the kitchen anyway? Dad should’ve known better. It’s a dangerous place.”
Michael snorts. “No, it’s not. The kitchen’s only dangerous if you’re in it.”
She jabs him in the ribs, and he just laughs harder. I chuckle too. Michael’s got a point, even if he’s asking to get smacked for it.
“I think you’re chaos on two legs, little sister,” he says, still chuckling. “But I love you anyway.”
“And I love you too, big brother—don’t ask me why.”
◆◆◆
I let out a deep breath and sink onto the bed next to Sarah. She’s fast asleep, half-covered by a blanket. Her foot’s propped up on a pillow, already badly swollen. She handles more pain than the rest of us combined and never complains. She’s strong. Stronger than anyone gives her credit for.
I wish she’d had more. She would’ve loved the world before it all fell apart. Hell, she would’ve freaking thrived in it. The things she’s missed out on… she’ll never fly on a plane, never go to prom, never just leave the house to shop for a dress without looking over her shoulder.