Page 4 of Fatally Yours

The shriek of the sirens wailed down the road moments too late.

They took August away after setting a cloth over his body.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me what such a simple gesture meant.

Mandy gripped my trembling hand as tears sat on the edges of her eyes.

She was just trying to be strong for me.

I was sniveling even after the police approached us. I didn’t think I would ever get over it. The heat that felt so suffocating before was nothing compared to the pain we felt now. There was not a single dry eye between us, even if Scott didn’t want to admit it.

We were stationed by Wes’ van, with the guys on the ground and Mandy holding me as I sobbed into her shoulder.

Heavy footsteps drew my attention, as I knew I would have to answer questions.

Though I couldn’t understand why. Everyone else was there.

Why did I have to talk, too? Was this revenge for something I had no idea I did?

Indeed, the world was against me today. If it weren’t, this wouldn’t have happened.

As I glanced at the officer before me, I noticed a familiar, ugly mug among the crowd of professionals.

Officer Wilson was on the other side of the lot, interviewing a handful of people about what happened.

Holding back a scowl, I waited for the intruder to question us or go away.

He had already talked to Scott and Wes before approaching Mandy and me.

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend, ah—”

“Natasha,” I said, wiping away a tear.

“So y’all say a car just ran him over?” he questioned, pulling out a notepad. Scott nodded, running his hand through his spiky hair. The day was coming to an end, and the sky was fading into a hazy blue. I just wanted to go home.

“Yeah, man. Cars were speeding through here this morning when we came in,” he said.

“To skip the light on the corner.” The officer side-eyed him.

Yes, it appeared to be ridiculous. Something so awful like that didn’t happen in this town.

I had seen enough of Mandy’s crime shows to know that there was almost always a motive. But not this time.

“Did August have any enemies?” the officer asked. “Anyone that would want him dead?”

“No,” Mandy said, threading her fingers in mine with a curt squeeze.

“No one would want him dead.” And that was the truth.

There were many negative things you could say about him, that he was abrasive, thick-skulled, and stubborn, but nothing that would warrant anyone wanting him dead.

And if he wronged anyone and knew it, he always made sure to repair that relationship.

Even Devin wouldn’t want him dead—I hoped. The thought made my throat tighten.

The officer’s eyes glanced around, meeting the dent Wes caused this morning. “You sure it wasn’t y’all that did it?” My jaw dropped as I balled my fists, ripping my hand away from Mandy’s. Now I was like August. If she weren’t here, I would be pummeling the man.

“No!” I snapped, raising my fists. “Why the fuck would we run him over?” She grabbed my arm, drawing me back. Were these assholes really so skittish that they would be scared of a woman defending herself after being accused of something so heinous? August was right—they were all scumbags.

“Shh, it’s okay.” She grabbed my hand again. It didn’t make me feel better in the slightest, but I resisted, only because I wasn’t excited about the prospect of spending the night in jail while the man I loved rotted in the morgue.

“Wes is a shit driver. You should know that since you’re always harassing us,” I muttered.

“Tash…”

“It’s alright. The young lady is just distressed,” the officer said unsympathetically, scribbling something down on his pad nonchalantly. I knew that they didn’t deal with hit-and-run deaths all the time, but they sure acted like it. “What color was the vehicle that struck him?”

“It was a black van,” Wes chimed in, his eyes red with tears. “Going at least forty through here, maybe faster. They should put some fucking speed bumps in.”

“Did you see the driver?” All of us shook our heads.

We were more concerned about August lying sprawled out and bloody on the asphalt than seeing who it was.

You can only do so much when your instincts tell you to freeze and focus on the tragedy before you.

It was human nature to gawk at disasters—Mandy’s interests, the nightly news, and the boom in crime shows proved that well enough.

“They got out of here before we could see them,” Wes said after a moment of suffocating silence. The officer wrote down something more, then closed his pad, stuffing it in his pocket.

“We’ll be interviewing more people to see if they saw anything. In the meantime, keep an eye on your machines in case we need to speak to you again,” he said. “That goes for all of you.” He made sure to make eye contact with each of us.

“We don’t have one,” Scott muttered. The officer raised a brow at him, and the hint of a smirk almost peeked through.

“Then keep your attention on your phone, or we’ll pay you a visit.

” With that, he turned and joined the others assessing the scene.

I almost wanted to say something—scream at him, hit him, something that would release my rage—but I couldn’t.

Scott buried his head in his hands, and Wes leaned against the van, staring into nothing.

Before I could sit down and join them, Officer Wilson approached us, earning himself a snarl from the guys.

“I’m sorry about August, Natasha,” he said, setting his hand on my shoulder.

The gesture almost made me wretch. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to stop by. You know where I’m at.

” My toes curled as Mandy gripped my hand like a vice, as if silently telling me to cooperate, just like I used to do with August whenever he had confrontations.

It wasn’t his right to speak his name after all the trouble he caused.

“Thanks.” He gave me a soft smile and turned away. I didn’t think I had ever been happier seeing the back of someone’s head. “August would kill that guy,” I said, feeling tears try to blur my vision again. Mandy reached out and rubbed my back, her eyes still pink.

“Let’s go home, okay?” she said, running her hand along my arm. Everyone nodded in agreement, and we all climbed into the van. The radio wasn’t on, and we went back to Wes and Scott’s house in silence—except for Mandy and my muffled tears.

When we arrived, we piled into his home.

There was no way I was okay with being alone right now.

August was always with me, and he was gone.

Now I had nothing. My parents were far away, relatives too distant to care, and now the love of my life was in a body bag, sealed up and deprived of everything that made him so special.

I curled up on Wes’ couch and tucked my head into my knees, sobbing silently. Mandy was beside him with her head on his shoulder. Tears were brimming on his eyelids. Every so often, I heard him wipe them away. Scott sat by himself with his head back, more silent than I had ever seen him.

After who knows how long, a noise pulled me out of my sorrow.

Scott stood up with red-speckled eyes and glanced down at us.

“You think we should call Dev at work?” he questioned.

Mandy looked at me, and with a deep breath, I nodded.

He deserved to know, even if there was tension.

I thought deep down that they cared about each other, at least enough not to want the other to die.

How could you not when you were friends for years?

If they didn’t, Devin would’ve bailed a long time ago, and August would’ve at least punched him in the face for trying to be so forward with me.

Scott wandered out of the room, and I heard him pluck the phone from the receiver in the kitchen.

The buttons clicked as he pressed them, tearing through the silence.

I tuned out his words, hiding my head in my hands, hoping not to cry all night, even if I knew I would.

After a few minutes, he returned and stood beside me with the curly phone cord stretched around the corner.

“He wants to talk to you, Natasha,” he said.

My heart skipped. That was awfully kind of him, despite everything.

Or maybe he was going to congratulate me.

My shoulders fell. I was just under a lot of stress.

He wasn’t that terrible, even if August thought otherwise.

Taking the phone from Scott, I pressed it to my ear.

“H-hello?”

“Natasha, are you okay?” Devin asked in a voice laced with concern. I almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of his question. No, I was not okay, and I would probably never be okay again. At least, not for a long, long time.

“No, I’m not. August, he…” My throat tightened like a ghostly hand was strangling me and forcing my grief back to the surface. I choked up and finished my sentence with another round of sobs.

“I’m gonna come over there, okay?”

“O-okay…” I gasped through my sorrows.

“I’ll see you then.” Before I could drop the phone, Scott sped over and took it from my hands as my head fell to the arm of the couch again.

Salty tears clouded my vision again, and I pressed my hands to my face, hoping to quell my sorrows.

The worst part was the stark silence. August wasn’t singing or strumming on his guitar.

All that remained was a deafening tranquility, which was almost what disturbed me the most.

It was too damn quiet.