But it’s them being here and their quick thinking that helped save Stacey and the house.
Even though they all seem to have it in for me once they realize I’ve been doing more than just putting a roof over her head the past few days.
She’s scared, angry, and confused, but for whatever reason, the law and my own best friend seem determined to make things harder for me if I don’t let Stacey go.
I’ll work something out, and I know Stacey won’t think I’m abandoning her.
Not after the night we just spent together. It’s something the others can’t see or understand.
Something bigger than all of them that holds Stacey and me together now.
“Can I at least get my things?” Stacey huffs, her eyes narrowed and seething with her own anger at her dad.
Her dad waits while she goes to get her things, passing me a slip of paper on her way past and despite everyone else watching us, she kisses me.
“Alright, alright,” her dad finally calls out, and the Sherriff reminds me I’ll have more than my own boss to answer to if he decides this house fire and romance is anything more than it appears.
“I have no idea what you mean by that Sherriff, but I can tell you all right now, you’re the only ones making a mistake. Any effort to interfere with my personal life from here on in will see all of you explaining it to a judge,” I growl, deciding I don’t want Stacey to go with them after all, why should she?
She moves to cling to me harder, but her dad snatches her away, wincing from his battered hand and promising me right back that I’ll never have to worry about him or Stacey in my life ever again.
“This ends now, Ben,” he snarls. “You’ve crossed more than a line. I trusted you. You...”
He can’t finish. Overcome with emotion, he grabs Stacey and her bags and turns away from me.
Deputy Barbie has something smartass to say, but I ignore all of them, turning back to the house myself, and setting to work cleaning up the mess to distract myself.
Hearing them pull away, I unfold Stacey’s note.
It’s her cell number with three simple words: I love you.
I hold it to my heart after memorizing the number and finding my phone, I punch it in and save it.
I guess I couldn’t have her all to myself straight away, but I will have her back.
We both know I will.
The kitchen is a mess, but it’s also a miracle nobody was hurt.
I set about cleaning up the worst of it, figuring I have a fresh project to work on starting tomorrow if nothing else.
Something to take my mind of things, give me some time to think about how to bring Stacey back.
Ah, Greg. I hope you can see reason once you calm down. Even if it’s just for Stacey’s sake.
I’m just cleaning myself up to try to and get some rest when my cell chimes.
I grab it feverishly, certain it’ll be Stacey but it’s not.
It’s the Sherriff again.
“What do you want?” I ask rudely, determined to never give this guy the time of day ever again. I’ll be lodging a few complaints of my own as soon as I get some rest.
“It’s business,” he replies sounding serious. “You’re the closest man on the ground and they don’t have much time left,” he says, not making any sense.
I sit up on the edge of the bed, my instincts telling me something’s wrong.
“What is it?” I bark. “Tell me everything,”
“Greg Gorman just called,” he says gravely, making me grimace. It’s a little too soon for me to even want to think about it all again.
“So?” I ask, ready to hang up until he tells me what’s happened.
“He was driving back home, against our advice and it appears he lost control of his car trying to cross a for—” he drones.
“Stacey!” I gasp, feeling the phone creak in my hand.
“They’re stuck, trapped. We’re on-route but you’re a good fifty miles closer than we are right now, even if we called for a chopper. I need you to get out there,” he continues, but I’m already reaching for my keys, grabbing the few extra things I’ll need.
“I’m on my way. Are there any casualties?” I ask coldly, dreading his reply.
“The driver, Mr. Gorman says he’s trapped his foot under the gas pedal from the accident and is hurt, his uh… passenger is uninjured,” he reports.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s bad news though, Ben. That ford is flooding. Run-off from a burst dam after the storm. The water’s already up to their waist and with her dad stuck, the girl won’t leave the car. Probably be swept away even if she did.”
“Jesus!” I exclaim. “Which Ford?” I ask, firing up my truck and speeding out into the night.