by Jenn Hype
I’m not strong enough to tear the material, especially in my condition. Seeing a loose thread in the seam of the arm hole, I tug at it until it creates a small hole. Putting the other sleeve in my mouth to have something to bite down on so I don’t almost scream again, I hook my finger in the hole and pull as hard as I can, ripping the sleeve completely away from the rest of the shirt.
After taking a second to try and catch my breath again, I pull at the thread down the seam of the arm, and once it’s completely undone, I continue biting down on the shirt while struggling to sit up. I need to get higher if I’m going to wrap this makeshift tourniquet around Bryce’s head.
Trying to do it with one arm is pointless. I have no choice but try and use my injured arm, which is at the very least fractured at the shoulder joint. This time I’m not able to muffle the scream entirely, but Wyatt notices and makes noise to cover me until I’ve got the material knotted as tightly as possible around Bryce’s head.
I finish just in time, because as soon as I fall back, completely exhausted, Mark’s attention swings back to us. In reality, the whole ordeal only took maybe five minutes, but I feel like I’ve just tried to run a marathon after staying awake for three days straight. My body has never felt this fatigued. My heavy eyelids beg for rest, but I know if I close my eyes for even a second, then I’m done for.
Wyatt takes advantage of Mark’s distraction and rams into him like a linebacker, sending Mark flying backwards. On his way down, Mark manages to get off a shot, but it goes wild, missing Wyatt entirely. As if in slow motion, I watch Wyatt’s finger tightening on the trigger, but Mark gets off another shot, this time hitting Wyatt.
I don’t know where he was shot or if he’s okay, there’s no time to check. Reacting on instinct, I reach around Bryce and feel his gun holster is empty. Dammit. That must be the gun Mark is using. I frantically start grappling at Bryce’s jeans, a buried and forgotten memory coming back to me and I yank the gun off the holster he keeps on his ankle. Four, maybe five rounds go off before flames come out of nowhere and engulf the entire room.
Before my head ducks down, I see the wall collapse on top of Mark, and Wyatt get thrown backwards from the blow of the explosion. I toss my body over Bryce’s to shield him, and after a few seconds, once I feel it’s safe, I slowly lift my head and see the flames already dying down. I don’t know what caused the explosion, but there’s nothing flammable in the room, so the flames appear to be snuffing themselves out.
Aside from being covered in dirt and soot, the only injuries I appear to have sustained from the explosion are a few cuts from the debris. The air in the room is thick with smoke and dirt, burning my eyes and putting more strain on my injured lungs.
When I hear Wyatt call out my name, I start clawing at the ground, using my good arm to drag myself over to him, the sounds of his coughing guiding me through the foggy room.
“I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.” My apologies come out of nowhere the instant I see his face, a hot stream of tears falling down my face. “Where are you hit? Are you okay? Wyatt, talk to me!”
Despite the insane amount of pain he must be in, he still gives me that damn cocky smirk of his, and I’ve never been happier to see it.
“I’m okay, the bullet went through my shoulder. I’m more worried about you. How did-”
I cut him off with kisses, peppering them all over his face. “I love you, Wyatt,” I say suddenly, pulling back to look in his eyes. “I should have said it sooner. I don’t know what I would have done if you died today and I never got to tell you, so I’m telling you now. I love you. I love you, okay?”
I keep repeating those three words in between each kiss until I’m practically smothering him, not letting up until he lets out a pained laugh.
“I love you too, Brailey.”
Sirens wail in the distance and I send up a silent prayer of thanks that help is on the way. We’re going to make it.
“Brailey listen, they’re going to have to separate us to get us to a hospital, but there’s one more thing I need to come clean about before they do.”
“It can wait, Wyatt. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re okay.”
He stops me when I move to kiss him again. “Brailey...Shaun is alive.”
My head rears back in shock. Surely I heard him wrong.
“As soon as Bryce knew his accident wasn’t really an accident, he had Shaun transferred into protective custody where he recovered in a private hospital. They faked his death along with Bryce’s to keep him safe.”
I turn back to see medics running over to Bryce who lays unconscious on the floor, and watch as they lift him - the man I owe everything to - onto a stretcher. Clinging to life, they carry him out, and all I can think is that he better damn well live, because there is no way he’s going to have saved everyone’s life but his own.
Bryce
Do you have any idea what it feels like to be trapped inside your own body?
I’ll tell you how it feels. It fucking sucks.
I haven’t led a perfect life, and I’m not a saint, but how in the hell did I wind up going from being a hero in love to being the guy in a coma who has nothing to show for months of misery other than a big gash in the head as a souvenir. It’s not even going to leave a scar that makes me look badass. Instead I’ll probably just have a big bald spot that with my luck, won’t even be able to be covered up with a hat.
Still, despite the total fucked-upness of the situation, I don’t regret a minute of it. Brailey and Shaun don’t know it yet, but they’re the ones who saved me. When I wake up from this damn coma and finally get the chance, I’m going to make sure they know it.
Truthfully, the minute I heard Brailey lost her memory, I pretty much knew our time was done. Sure, a small part of me held out hope that maybe one day she would remember and we could find a way to get back to where we were, but it was a very small part. The bigger part of me knew she was going to be moving on and making a life for herself, and that even if she remembered, she would have changed. Memories can evoke emotions, but time changes everything.
Preparing for the loss of her didn’t lessen the blow any. It didn’t prepare me for the punch to the gut I took the minute I saw her in that hotel room. I’ve never felt like a bigger asshole than when she looked at me with wide eyes, clearly stunned beyond words to find out that I was, in fact, very alive. When she wouldn’t let me touch her? That was the final blow that did me in. She wasn’t mine anymore. My Brailey was gone.
In that moment I accepted it, resolved to start moving on without her as soon as we got ourselves out of that mess. Turned out what I considered to be ‘closure’ really wasn’t, because later when Wyatt and I were standing guard outside the hotel room and he confessed that he loved Brailey? Let’s just say that I deserve some sort of medal or a goddamn peace prize or... something for not taking a swing at his face.
Honestly? The only reason I didn’t is because he was expecting it, and I really didn’t feel like getting my ass kicked over a girl that wasn’t mine to fight over anymore. Things certainly didn’t get any better when I got stuck with that crazy chick, Keegan, all night. She hogged the bed, stole the covers more than once, and wouldn’t quit rubbing her ass all over me. It was like being sandwiched between two different kinds of torture.
Now? Now I get to endure further torture by having to listen while not being able to move, or speak or open my freaking eyes.
Brailey’s reunion with Shaun was fucking painful. Especially when he told her that I was the one who made the anonymous donation for his surgery. She was never supposed to know that. Over two months I’d been waiting for that reunion; spending almost every damn day with Shaun while we waited for the time when we’d get to see Brailey again. Even in foster care those two had never been separated; and while Brailey had lost those memories along with all the others, Shaun didn’t. To be apart from her was killing him, and watching him pulling away, burying himself in his sadness�
��it seriously fucking sucked. I spent so much time with the kid while Brailey and I were looking for Mayra so we were already close; those extra months only brought us closer. My heart broke a little more hearing them both cry and hug each other, hating that I couldn’t see what I’d waited so long to be a part of.
Guess I better get used to it. I don’t know how much of a role I’ll have in either of their lives now. Even though it sucks to admit, Wyatt is good for Brailey. When she found out that the life insurance money wasn’t actually life insurance money, because, well, Shaun isn’t really dead, she tried to give it back. Wyatt talked her off that stupid ledge. After everything she went through, she deserves that little payout from the FBI.
To make matters worse, apparently fucking Mark got away and apparently no one has been able to track him. The security cameras outside the bank got a partial plate, but I already know the person who took her wasn’t Mark. I got a good look at his face. Too bad I can’t talk to a sketch artist – or anyone, for that matter. Mayra was missing from the scene, so he either took her with him or killed her and dumped the body. I prefer to assume it was the former, because there is no way in hell I’m letting that girl die after all I’ve gone through to find her.
Thank God Wyatt had the good sense to put a tracker in that necklace he gave Brailey the morning before she was abducted. Even though I could have lived a thousand lifetimes without needing to know the reason he calls her peaches is because the first time they met she was wearing a peach colored dress and used peach scented shampoo and peaches, peaches, peaches. I’ll never eat a damn peach again. Don’t care if I sound like a petulant child, no one can hear me anyway.
If it hadn’t been for that stupid explosion, we probably would have gotten Mark. By ‘we’ I mean the FBI, because I was barely conscious at that point. The way Wyatt explained the explosion to Brailey and Keegan was that apparently the furnace room was right next door to us, and Mayford was unaware that they had a gas leak. When Brailey fired off shots, one of them hit a copper pipe inside the wall, which created a spark. The fire died down almost instantly once all the gases burnt up, but the pressure buildup was enough to blow through the sheetrock, sending Wyatt flying back and while the wall came down on Mark, since he was standing right next to it.
He may have escaped, but there’s no way in hell he got out of there without being seriously injured.
If listening to the happy couple and a very whiney Keegan wasn’t bad enough, my parents just showed up. My mom won’t leave me alone. She’s a mess, crying over me all the time, and though my dad rarely talks, I can smell the faint tobacco from his pipe so I know he’s near.
Worst part so far? Keegan giving me a sponge bath. Yeah I heard her talking the nurse into letting her, going so far as to claim to be my fiancé. Based on the giggling she did when she got to my junk, I’m assuming it was just a ruse to see me naked. Does she have some kind of necrophilia or something? I mean, I’ve got a pulse but I’m like a living corpse here. Plus, she’s a nurse. Nurses shouldn’t giggle when they see the male anatomy. Trust me - she has no reason to giggle at my anatomy, and when I finally get out of this bed, I’ll make sure she pays for that.
Yeah, a lot of crazy shit has gone through my mind for however long I’ve been out. With no way to keep track of time, I have no clue how long it’s been, but I know it’s been long enough for Brailey to do some serious healing. She had two fractured ribs, a bruised lung, a broken arm and dislocated shoulder and other various injuries. Oh, and she also missed her period.
So much shit I wish I could un-hear. It’s amazing what people will say when they think you can’t hear them.
Wyatt resigned. Got to overhear that conversation, too. They wanted to send him out on assignment to try and track Mark, and he was unwilling to leave Brailey while she’s recovering. Plus, he’s still pretty pissed about all the messed up shit they did to her. Can’t say I blame him there, but that means they could have idiots working the case and the longer it takes to find Mark’s trail, the colder it gets.
I don’t know when I’ll wake up or what waits for me when I do, but I know one thing for sure…
Mark better be ready for me.
Acknowledgements
This is by far the most important part of publishing, and the part I seriously hate the most. It is impossible for me to not leave someone out or forget something important when I write these. I can already see myself offering profuse apologies to someone vital in my life because I was too forgetful to remember and acknowledge their importance.
These will be in no particular order - but I’m going to start with my group of crazies because I know they will be the ones to ream me a new one if I put them too far down.
Michelle Haines - Thank you for fangirling me. If you hadn’t, we might not be friends, and if we hadn’t met, my life would be missing something. You have put up with so much from me in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, and though you’re all the way across the country and we’ve never met, I feel like I’ve known you forever. I already owe you so much - for being there for me personally, dealing with my insecurities and crazy tangents, supporting my career and letting me bounce millions of different ideas off of you. Someday I swear, I’ll find a way to repay you.
To the Crazy Train - You guys were an unexpected addition to my life and you have already made this journey a hundred times more enjoyable. When I got added to your little group, I had no idea that I was about to find amazing new best friends.
Jo Lopez - I knew from the first message I got from you that you and I would be great friends. It was insta-love. You have become an integral part of my life and my author career. Your loyalty and dedication to helping the authors you love is just one of the awesome things about you. P.S. - I promise to let you out of the basement soon. Maybe.
Jessica Davey - You always manage to make me smile. I could be having a horrible day, but your off-topic rants and emphatic messages always cheer me up. Your support and feedback have been vital in the making of Farewell. Not to mention the penis-shaped gummies that I’ve yet to taste. Just feels wrong to bite into them….
Kerry Louiseh - I only exist as a part of the crazy train because of you. You and your friends adopted me and put up with my lurking and erratic behavior. And let it always be known that YOU impacted Farewell in a HUGE way. If you hadn’t hated on the book, I wouldn’t have made the changes that I believe made it a helluva lot better. You also get credit for the new gray hairs that popped up during that time of last minute editing.
Alice Ballinger - I wish I could bottle up my emotions from when I read your messages after you read Farewell. Your reaction ruined me for any other reviewers. It was so over the top and emotionally batshit - AKA exactly what I wanted to hear. I’m not a hugger, but I wanted to hug you so bad. Is that weird? It sounded weird… oh well. Nothing I say will be any weirder than your obsession with sloths.
Brandi Zelenka - Ah, Brandi. I miss you. As I write this, you’ve been fairly absent from my world and I don’t like that. I often recall upon our conversations and creepily call upon memories of you. Thank you for reading and re-reading and re-reading Farewell and not cussing me out for the constant changes.
Stephanie Mugnano - Thank you for riding my ass about the details where it comes to injuries and all those other aspects I would have had no clue about. You made me nuts, forcing me to do research and tweak things so they would be correct, and it’s exactly what I needed.
Renae Ayers - I owe you an extra amount of gratitude for not calling the police or CPS on me when I started asking you questions like: Where would a bullet have to hit someone to cause a lot of blood loss but not kill them? If someone was going to try and kill someone in the hospital using a drug, but the dosage was too small and it didn’t kill them, what would they use? And where would they get it? And so on…
Beta Readers - Lindsay Johnston, Valerie Roeseler and Amanda Gillespie:
I don’t have an editor, and this book is the first ti
me I’ve used BETA readers. I, personally, can tell a HUGE difference. Especially since I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to keeping track of my own damn story. If it hadn’t been for all of you putting up with my typos and mismatching information and constant changes (yeah - they all had to read several drafts because I kept changing stuff) then I know this book wouldn’t be half as good. You all ROCK.
Samanthe Beck - I’m sure you never thought responding to that first tweet would land you in the role of unofficial mentor to a newbie author, but I stuck you in that role anyway. I blame it on your genuinely sweet and caring personality. If you would just be rude to me, I’d go away, but I don’t think you have it in you. Your advice, encouragement, and friendship in general are so special to me. I hope you know I don’t take for granted that you take the time to befriend some random fangirl, and I will forever be grateful for all you’ve done.
Bloggers - Where would indie authors be without the bloggers? Thank you for taking a chance on my books and then taking the time to promote them. Every single time I receive a good review, it feels like the first time. The kindness and generosity that comes out of our little community never ceases to amaze me. Specifically: Bloggers From Down Under, LucyLicious Reads, Amanda's Book Nook for Adults, Nerdy Dirty & Flirty, and sooo many more.
Stacey Davies at Ab Fab Book Blog and S.A.S.S. - I’ve already told you several times, but I don’t think I can say it enough. You deserve SO much more credit than I can even give you. The insight and advice I gained from you and S.A.S.S. is invaluable. I literally knew NOTHING about the underground community that is for indie authors.
To the authors who inspire me and don’t report me or block me for stalking them:
