Chapter Twenty-Three Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Three
Savannah
The sharp sound jolts me. “Blaze, what happened?”
He turns to look at me, horror etched into his expression.
But he doesn’t answer. He just grabs his clothes, pulls them on, and storms out of the room.
I dress quickly and follow him out to the foyer. “Please tell me what’s going on. Let me hel—”
“You can’t help,” he yells, whipping around to level me with a look carved out of stone before he pulls out his keys. “Nobody can fucking help, okay? I caused this. I caused fucking everything.”
I recoil, the sharp bite of his words like a throat punch. Swallowing hard, I step toward him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t you dare lash out at me like that. I’m just worried. I want to be here for you. Why can’t you just fucking let me? For once? Why can’t you let me in?”
His shoulders slump, and he scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You didn’t deserve it. But I need to get to the hospital. You should go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You may be too much of a stubborn ass to realize that people need people in times of crisis, but I’m not.
And you can’t just send me away. So either tell me where we’re going or don’t, but I’m not leaving you.
Whatever happened, we will figure it out.
You don’t have to do everything on your own. ”
He nods silently and walks out of the room.
I follow and pull the door closed behind me.
His boots dig into the ground with each stiff, angry step he takes toward his truck, as if he’s trying to stamp out whichever of his demons is hot on his heels.
He stops to open the door for me, and I hop into the passenger seat, so many unanswered questions looping through my mind.
Questions I can’t ask. Answers I’ll likely not want to hear.
I chew on my thumbnail as he speeds down to the main road, the silence between us deafening. I have no idea where we’re going or who it involves. But he’s clearly distraught and driving like a maniac, so that tells me it’s bad. Really bad.
I wrap my hand around the side handle on the door. Trees whip past, storm clouds gathering overhead. The sky darkens more with each second that ticks past. I rub my hands over my prickled skin, the tiny hairs springing up as if they know what’s happened . . .
Or what’s about to happen.
Both scenarios freak me the hell out because I’ve never seen Blaze so .
. . affected. His knuckles are white, spine stiff, eyes murderous.
In the past, he’d give glimpses into his emotions but then would pull everything back when it got too real.
And when that happened, his normal MO would be to bury all signs of what he was really feeling behind taut, caustic words.
His defense mechanism, I guess.
I wish I had one against him.
“It was Colt on the phone.”
My eyes widen.
Actual words. That was unexpected.
He stares straight ahead, his lips twisting. “Said Wyatt had an accident.”
“My God,” I mutter. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yep. Me too.” He fists the wheel and stomps on the gas, picking up speed as the winds howl around us.
He doesn’t say anything more the rest of the way to the hospital, not that I have much to offer by way of comfort. My mind trips back to my last conversation with Wyatt before he drove me home after our liquid lunch at Dolly’s, how he mentioned a big blowout with Blaze.
Maybe Blaze is remembering that, too, wondering if he’ll get a chance to make things right.
When we get to the hospital, he parks up near the emergency room entrance. We run toward the redbrick building and push through the glass doors. Colt jumps out of his seat when he sees us. Harlon sits in a chair next to him, his curious eyes flicking toward me.
“What happened?” Blaze says in a low voice.
Colt shakes his head. “It was a fucking mess. Bull threw him hard, then went after him when he was down. Trampled his chest and side. His spleen ruptured, and he has a couple of broken ribs. One punctured his lung. He was bleeding internally. They had to take him straight into surgery.”
“Fuck,” Blaze mutters, pounding a fist into the wall next to him.
Colt nods at me. “You here for moral support?”
“I was at the house when he got the call. I’d brought some dessert over for you guys. He was pretty shaken, and I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to drive by himself.” The words tumble quickly out of my mouth. Totally plausible, until I see Harlon’s eyes narrow.
Colt also doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” I say, feeling every bit like an intruder.
Nash was Blaze’s best friend forever, and our families were close, but Colt never really warmed to me.
He was always kind of a prick, and I’d only talk to him when I absolutely had to.
I knew there was never any love lost between him and Blaze and that he was always trying to claw his way to the top of his family’s food chain.
Anyone in his way was a problem, and anyone who couldn’t help him get there wasn’t worth his time.
I guess I fell into the latter category.
But looking at him now, he doesn’t seem like that dickhead guy anymore. He seems . . . almost lost. Maybe a little guilty.
Maybe he finally realizes there’s more to life than money and power. I’d imagine family trauma could open your eyes to that.
“What else do you know about the accident? Did anyone see anything?” Blaze asks.
Colt furrows his brow. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Just shit luck. The bull was overly aggressive from what they said. Came at Wyatt real hard. Coulda happened to anyone.”
“But it happened to our brother.” Blaze paces in front of a row of chairs, then turns to look at his father. No words are spoken, but there’s something accusatory in Blaze’s stony glare.
“You got something to say, son?” Harlon finally asks.
“I’ve got a lot to say.” Blaze seethes. “But I don’t think this is the right time or place.”
“If you’ve got something to say to Dad, you can say it to me too. I am his second-in-command, remember?” Colt says, pushing between Blaze and Harlon.
The heat of Blaze’s rage scorches me where I stand against a nearby column.
“You made choices, Blaze.” Colt faces off with Blaze, his voice shaking with anger.
“You decided that fighting for your country was more important than fighting for your family. We made choices too. Dad decided that he wanted me to run shit because I’m loyal and because he knew he could always count on me. ”
“Then why are you so threatened by me?” Blaze looks down at Colt, who’s a couple of inches shorter than him. “Why do you need to tell me you’re in charge every time you get the chance? You think I want your life? You think I want to live in that ignorant fucking bubble?”
“Blaze,” Harlon bites out. “Enough.”
Blaze turns his head toward his father. “Oh, so now I need to stop getting involved. Now it’s enough. But it wasn’t enough before, when you relied on me to fix everything any way possible, right?” He shakes his head. “You’ve really got your priorities messed up this time, Dad.”
He stalks away from us and rounds a corner, disappearing down a hallway.
What the hell is going on with him? And what did he mean by all that?
“I’m sorry about his outburst, Savannah. My son and I have a complicated history,” Harlon says, a deep sigh slumping his shoulders.
“It’s okay. I’m sure you’re all just worried about Wyatt. I know stress tends to make people say things they don’t mean.”
Colt glowers at me. “Don’t tell me what I don’t mean. I meant every fucking word I said.”
“Colt,” Harlon says, a warning in his tone. “Savannah doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just here to be supportive. Don’t be rude.”
“This is a family issue,” he says, his hazel eyes glittering with anger. “And she ain’t family, last I checked.”
“Do not make me say it again, Colton.” Harlon stands up from the chair and shoves a finger against Colt’s chest. “You watch your manners.”
I hold up a hand and back away. “No, he’s right. I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry for intruding on your family time.”
“Savannah,” Harlon says. “It means so much to have you here. Please don’t go.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be praying for Wyatt.” I force a smile. “I, um, I’m going to check on Blaze.”
I have no idea what I just witnessed back there, but it’s pretty clear that the fractures run damn deep within the Hartman family. And I thought Nash and I were on rocky terms.
I head toward the hallway, walking quickly to put as much space between me and the Hartmans as possible. I stare at one of the signs, trying to make out where Blaze might have gone. I jog toward the elevator and turn a corner. Then I stop short.
Blaze is on the floor, his hat next to him, holding his head in his hands. After a quick debate with myself, I sink down next to him. He doesn’t look up. I lay a hand on his arm, wanting so badly to console him. But the chill emanating off him is enough of a warning to keep my mouth shut.
“I told you not to come,” he says, his voice flat, eyes staring at the floor.
“I know, and I said I wasn’t going to let you deal with things alone. But you shut me out like you always do. And shame on me for continuing to let it happen.”
He finally lifts his head. “Then make the decision to stop, Savannah.”
My heart clenches tight, fury clawing at the sides of my throat, my mouth aching to form the words I desperately want to shout at him.
But my heart betrays my mind yet again.
“Is that what you really want, Blaze?” I lean close to him. “Because if you say yes, you’re a fucking liar. And we both know it.”