“That was Mrs. Medoza from next door. She says there’s a cop looking for both of us. What did you do?”
“What the fuck makes you think it’s something I did?”
“Let’s just go see what this is about. Do I need to get our lawyer on the phone?”
“Not yet.” I pay our bill, and we ride out to the clubhouse. When we arrive there’s a police cruiser sitting outside the gate. I roll up next to them and cut off my bike.
“You James Thatcher?”
“What’s this about?”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Here’s fine.” I throw my leg over my bike and Ruthie gets off after me.
“I wish you’d reconsider taking this matter elsewhere. I’m sorry to have to tell you that your daughter was involved in a single vehicle motor vehicle accident.”
Ruthie clutches my hand. “Is she okay?”
“Ma’am.” His gaze darts to his shoes and the world seems to tilt off its axis. “I wish I could tell you differently, but Rochelle Thatcher was pronounced dead at the scene along with her passenger Colter Riggs. An Alexa Neville was transported to the hospital with minor injuries.”
My legs nearly give out. I drop to the pavement. His lips keep moving, but all I hear is static. Rochelle, my brown eyed girl ready to set the world on fire since the day she was born. The first person to show me what it truly meant to love someone else and put them first. The baby I cradled in my arms, slept with her on my chest the first three months of her life because she’d cry whenever I put her down. I watched her take her first steps. I swore I’d always protect her. That she’d never want for nothing. My child is gone from this life and onto the next.
Ruthie’s blood curdling scream forces me to snap my head up. The officer has his arms around her, offering the comfort I’m unable to give. “Not my daughter. Not Rochelle,” she sobs. “Please. No. You’ve made a mistake. James, tell him he’s made a mistake. It’s not her. Tell him.” She falls to her knees. The gate behind me opens up. Grudge picks Ruthie up. Nickel holds a hand out to me.
I’m supposed to be strong, but nothing prepares you for the loss of a child.
**
One of the officers I spoke with called it a tragic accident. Said Rochelle was driving, and they believe toxicology reports will show she had alcohol in her system. None of it makes sense. Rochelle had her permit but knew not to drive unless her mom or me were with her. She nor Colter were wearing their seat belts, but Alexa was. I need answers and there is only one person who can give them to me.
Ruthie is at her mother’s. Had to give her
a damn sedative to knock her ass out. I wish someone would put a bullet in my head and make the pain stop. It’s more than I can bear. I can’t drink or smoke it away. I don’t do pills and will never stick a needle in my arm but fuck me if I’m not tempted by the thought of making this ache go away if even for an hour. Never knew anything could hurt like this. Hurts so damn bad I want to drive straight into oncoming traffic.
I have Slick drop me off at the apartment. When I walk in Nickel is asleep on the couch. I tap his shoulder and send him on his way. He doesn’t hesitate. I think he knows by taking one look at me now isn’t the time to offer his condolences. There will be time for that later. Right now is the time for Alexa to tell me what the fuck happened to my daughter and why she’s still breathing and Rochelle isn’t. My brain knows that the seat belt could have saved her life, but my heart can’t accept the truth. Not until I hear the details from the only person alive to tell the tale.
I enter the bedroom. Alexa isn’t in our bed. She’s standing at the window staring out at the moon. The moonlight spilling through the window casts a glow on her. Her blonde hair hangs over her shoulder, wet and dripping onto the carpet. Standing in a tank top and bikini style panties I can see the perfect shape of her growing baby bump. The sight is beautiful yet haunting. I wonder if losing Rochelle is my punishment for knocking Alexa up.
Her gaze meets mine. “You came.”
“You okay?” Angry and heartbroken I’m still drawn to her.
“No. You?”
I shake my head, and she crosses the room to where I stand frozen in place. I kiss her forehead next to her stitches. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I am fucking grateful I didn’t lose her too.
“I’m not. Rochelle...Colter...” her voice cracks.
“Shh.” I pull her into my arms. “The baby’s okay?”
“The doctor said I have a mild concussion, but the baby looks good. I got to hear her heartbeat.”
“Her?”
“They did an ultrasound. They couldn’t tell the sex. But I think maybe it will be a girl.”
I swallow down the knot forming in my throat.