Page 12 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

I’m sitting on the couch, my legs drawn up to my chest. My neck is feeling sore and stiff, and my forehead aches from hitting the steering wheel.

Dad’s tires crunch over the gravel drive. My foot bounces uncontrollably, and my stomach twists.

He’s going to take one look at my wrecked vehicle and be pissed ? —

His truck door slams shut. Heavy boots pound up the porch, and then he’s inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. His eyes go wide when they land on me.

“Bri.” His voice cracks, and he strides toward me. I’m barely on my feet before I’m wrapped in his arms. His hug squeezes the air out of me, but it also anchors me in place, the way it always has.

The tears I’ve been fighting all afternoon finally break free. “I’m sorry, Dad. You just got me that vehicle and I—” My throat tightens. “I didn’t even have it for a full day.”

“Hey, hey.” He pulls back, his rough hands cupping my face as he studies the bandage on my forehead. His frown deepens. “The SUV doesn’t matter, sweetheart. You do. Are you sure we don’t need to head to the ER?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. I’m fine. It’s cleaned and bandaged.”

He sighs but presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Alright. Then you’re stuck with me fussing over you instead.”

Dinner is his way of taking care of me. He makes one of my favorites, chicken and rice.

It’s nothing fancy, but the familiarity helps.

I chop vegetables for the rice while he stirs.

My knife slows more than once when my thoughts drift to Everett.

The way his hands steadied me after the accident.

The tingles racing through me from his touch when he brushed my hair back… .

I blow out a breath, forcing myself to focus, but the restlessness doesn’t go away.

After dinner, we settle into our usual spaces to watch a movie. I’m on the couch, while Dad is in his usual chair. His snores start rumbling throughout the living room before the halfway point, but my eyes never really stay on the screen anyway. My mind is too loud, too full of him.

I’m restless, so I slip out to the back deck. The night air bites at my skin. The trees are a dark silhouette against the moon, and through the thin gaps, light comes from Everett’s cabin. I hug myself, staring at it like maybe if I look long enough, I’ll see him.

My phone feels heavy in my hand. After a long breath, I unlock it and type out the words before I can chicken out.

Me: Just wanted you to know I’m okay.

My heart lurches at the buzz. His response comes almost instantly.

Everett: Glad to hear that.

I bite my lip, warmth crawling up my neck.

Me: Sorry it took so long. My dad came home. We had dinner.

Everett: No need to apologize. I’m just glad you texted.

The restless weight in my chest lightens as our messages continue. He asks if I changed my bandage or took anything for pain. I say yes, then tell him what we ate for dinner. I mentioned that my dad fell asleep during the movie, and he asked what we were watching.

I lean against the railing, my eyes moving to his cabin. I can’t see him, but it feels like he’s right there.

My phone beeps again.

Everett: Does anything else hurt?

Me: My neck’s sore and a bit stiff.

He makes me promise to take something before I go to bed and to apply ice if there’s any swelling.

My heart swells. It feels easy. And… safe.

The exhaustion is setting in, and I’m getting chilly. But out here, I feel closer to him.

Me: I’m going to head to bed soon.

Everett: Good. Make sure you take care of that cut and take pain meds.

I take pain medicine and clean my forehead, applying antibiotic ointment. Then I bandage it afterward.

I slip under my blankets, still holding my phone, smiling at the last message he sent.

Me: I did as you asked. Now I’m in bed.

Everett: Sleep, angel. I’ll be here if you need me.

Warmth spreads through me. No one’s ever called me angel before. And God help me… I like it.

I place the phone on my nightstand and roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My chest is tight, my pulse unsteady. My thoughts centered solely on Everett.

And then it hits me. Joey never responded to the message I sent him this morning.

And I didn’t realize it until now.