Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Waylon
The moment we pull into the Murphys’ gravel driveway, I know something’s off. Jake’s not here, but his brother is. Kenny’s truck is parked by the shed behind their house instead of in front of the garage like normal.
“Go back there,” I direct Wilder to park behind Kenny’s truck.
“Why would Kenny take her?” he asks.
“We’re about to fuckin’ find out. Grab your shotgun,” I tell him when he parks.
As soon as Wilder and I open the tailgate, I get hit in the shoulder.
“The fuck?” I hiss at the stinging sensation.
I fall to my knees and put my hand over where it hurts, but there’s no blood.
“I think he hit me with a fuckin’ paintball gun,” I tell Wilder, who’s kneeling beside me. “What the hell? Did you see where that came from?”
“Pretty sure it was Kenny behind those doors.”
“Motherfucker. He’s about to be sorry he brought a knife to a gunfight.” I pull myself up to my feet but stay crouched down.
“Waylon…lemme go first.” He pulls out his shotgun, loads it, and then removes the safety. “Stay behind me.”
I roll my shoulder, pissed that punk got me when I wasn’t looking. That’s gonna leave a nasty bruise.
A couple more pops sound off, but he misses.
We move to the driver’s side of the truck and stay out of his view.
“Do you have a visual on him?” I ask when he props the gun up on the side of the bed. “Don’t shoot if you’re not sure. Harlow’s in there somewhere.”
Without a warning, he squeezes the trigger and a loud bang echoes through the air. Wilder stands to his full height and ejects the spent shell, the metallic casing clattering to the ground.
“He’s down.”
His calmness is eerie.
“Call the sheriff,” I tell him before I round the truck and rush over to the shed door. Kenny doesn’t move as I push through it, but it looks like Wilder got him in the upper thigh, so he should be fine as long as an ambulance gets here before he bleeds out.
I follow the sound of wailing and then find Harlow crashing to the ground, a metal bat falling from her grip.
“Harlow!” I shout, but she’s knocked out before I can catch her.
I rush to her side and lift her in my arms.
Looking over, I see Emery rolled on his side, knocked out. Presumably from the beating she gave him with the bat.
“You did good, baby. Now I need you to wake up for me.” Standing with her against my chest, I rush out of the shed. Wilder quickly notices and opens the passenger door.
“We gotta get her to the ER.” I climb inside, holding Harlow in my arms. “I think he clubbed her with a bat a few times.”
And if I ever get my hands on him, it won’t be pretty. That bat would live so far up his ass, he’d beg me to put him out of his misery.
“Jesus Christ,” Wilder hisses. “The sheriff and ambulance are on their way.”
Wilder shuts my door and then hops into the driver’s seat, tires squealing as he guns us out of there.
I keep my finger to the pulse point on her neck, making sure she stays with me. I’m furious with myself that I didn’t protect her from him.
“Harlow, if you can hear me, I need you to try to look at me,” I tell her softly.
Her eyelids flutter open and closed.
“Hang on, my love.” I pull her closer and she winces. “Shit, sorry.”
The bastard hit her in the ribs and only God knows where else.
I haven’t felt this type of fear since the night I found Wilder in the bathroom.
“She’s gonna be okay,” Wilder says as if he knows I need to hear it.
“She has to be,” I murmur, then brush my finger softly against her cheek. “She’s survived once before. She can do it again.”
Twenty miserable minutes later, Wilder pulls up to the side of the hospital, and I carry her in. He called ahead of time so they could expect us. Then he called Delilah and broke the news to her.
Based on Harlow going in and out of consciousness, I’d guess she has a concussion and possible internal bleeding if he hit her hard enough.
The thought makes me want to go find him and finish the job.
The ambulance that brought Kenny and Emery in arrived five minutes ago.
The sheriff is also here, asking for statements.
It’s a fucking mess.
“How the hell did this happen?” Delilah cries next to me.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me. “I dunno. He must’ve struck her in the parking lot and then the two of ’em took her to the Murphys’.”
“Why would Jake’s brother be involved?”
“I dunno that either.”
Mrs. Fanning’s a mess, and I feel awful because she’s still waiting for news about her husband. Last they heard, he was intubated after they pumped his stomach. Now it’s a waiting game to see if he’ll breathe on his own.
I’m so overwhelmed by my emotions—a level of anger I’ve never felt before consumes me, the fear that Harlow won’t survive this suffocates me, and the sadness that she’s having to go through it again makes me want to trade places with her.
I don’t know how to deal with this level of pain, but I have to be strong for her.
Within the hour, the waiting room is full of my family members, Jake and his parents, and a few friends from the horse club group chat.
I refuse to look at Jake’s family and getting into a fistfight with the sheriff here would be a dumb move.
But I will get to the bottom of this.
The next sixty hours go by in a blur of exhaustion and mental autopilot.
I don’t leave her side after she had surgery to remove her spleen that ruptured from the impact of the bat and to stop the internal bleeding caused by her re-fractured ribs.
She’s also covered in bruises and was diagnosed with a mild concussion.
Her recovery is going to take months, and that’s if she doesn’t have any complications post-surgery with infections, but I know my girl is tough.
If anyone can get through this, it’s her.
I hate that she’ll be out of the horse jumping season for the next year, but at this point, I’m just relieved she made it through surgery.
She’s on heavy pain meds while her body heals, so she hasn’t been able to keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. Unfortunately, that means she still doesn’t know about her dad.
Mr. Fanning still can’t breathe on his own and hasn’t regained consciousness.
When they asked about his living will and end-of-life wishes, Mrs. Fanning broke down in tears because Mr. Fanning doesn’t want to be kept on life-saving interventions. That means if he continues not to breathe on his own, they have to remove the ventilator.
Delilah’s spiraling, which, given the circumstances, I understand. Both her father and sister are fighting for their lives, and it’s even worse than last time when their incidents happened a year apart.
I can’t fathom how this is happening to them again.
The community of our small town has come together to bring food for the Fannings and everyone affected, which has helped, but no one has an appetite. My siblings take turns checking on me and making sure I eat. Wilder brought me a bag of clean clothes and toiletries so I can shower here.
He’s stepped up in a way I’ve never seen before.
While I appreciate it more than I can express, all I want is to talk to Harlow and tell her how sorry I am for deceiving her. For not being there to protect her.
To tell her how much I love her.
Tell her how much I want to hold her and keep her forever.
I wanna give her my jar of hearts and do all the items inside with her. She deserves that and so much more.
I wish I could go back to a week ago before Wilder blurted the secret I should’ve told her myself. Her finding out and still unable to talk it out is killing me.
I wanna take away her pain of going through this again and losing her dad at the same time.
And I want those two assholes to pay.
Kenny had surgery for his bullet wound and is now on house arrest while he recovers. Sheriff Wagner has reassured us he’ll be charged with kidnapping and conspiracy.
Emery’s injuries weren’t major enough for surgery, so he’s suffering with pain in a cold jail cell, pending his arraignment for aggravated assault and kidnapping.
The sheriff could’ve given him house arrest too while he recovers from his broken ribs, but I have a feeling he purposely didn’t go easy on him after finding out how badly he’d beaten Harlow.
He’s hopeful they’ll both take plea deals so she doesn’t have to be re-traumatized with another trial.
“Waylon?” Delilah grabs my attention, and I blink a few times to clear my vision.
“Yeah?” I stand from my chair as she walks into the room.
Her eyes are bloodshot. “They’re removing his ventilator tonight.”
“I’m so sorry, Delilah.” I shake my head with grief, walking closer so I can wrap my arms around her.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
I rub her back, wishing I could steal away her pain, too. Just because we didn’t work out as a couple doesn’t mean I can’t be her friend and support her through one of the worst weeks of her life.
“Mom wants to tell Harlow before they do it, so they’re gonna start weanin’ her off the pain meds.”
“Harlow would wanna say goodbye,” I reassure her that it’s the right thing to do. “Hopefully, they can keep her comfortable with less drowsy meds.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s out of it and doesn’t remember anything we tell her. That’s what happened last time. Her memory was foggy for days.”
The nurse comes in, followed by Mrs. Fanning, and she adjusts her morphine drip schedule.
“She should start waking up within a couple hours, maybe sooner, but she might not be very aware,” the nurse explains.
The three of us wait by her bed and within forty-five minutes, she begins opening her eyes and moving her hand against mine.
“Mom?”
“Right here, sweetheart. Delilah and Waylon are here, too.”
Harlow looks around until her gaze finds mine. Tears well in my eyes for the hundredth time in three days, but this time I let them fall. I’ve never been so happy to see those beautiful green eyes staring back at me.
“Hi, baby,” I say softly, choking down my emotions.
“What happened?” she asks hoarsely.