Where did all this love come from? This incredible family, the friendships I’ve been blessed with? Have they always been here and I’ve just been too hard on myself to believe they were really here for me?
As Carter pays the bill, the men next to us request another round.
“I’m sorry,” the waitress says. “I can’t serve you anymore.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” one of them asks, climbing unsteadily to his feet. “We’re watchin’ the game, and we want another.”
She shakes her head. “You boys have had enough. I can call you a cab once you’ve paid your bill.”
“We don’t need a fuckin’ cab,” he spits, tearing the bill from her hand.
A ball of unease settles low in my stomach, and Carter takes Olivia’s hand in his, placing his other on my back as he guides us toward the door. I glance over my shoulder, watching as the men snatch their coats up, tossing bills down on the table. For some reason, my heart pounds a little harder, and my chest begins to tighten.
When we step into the cool night, I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The knot in my stomach slowly unfurls and I relax as we head for the car.
The restaurant door slams open, and the three men pour out.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” one says.
“Where we gonna go now?” the other slurs.
The third fishes a set of car keys from his pocket. “I know a place.”
No. No. I grip my brother’s arm.
“You better put those the fuck away,” Carter growls, pointing at the keys. “You even so much as step toward a car in your state, I’ll put you through the ground.”
The man holding the keys sways, eyes glassy as he watches Carter. Then he laughs and takes a step forward. “Get outta my way, superstar.”
Carter puts his hand on his chest, looming over him. “One more step. I’ll fucking end you.”
“In front of your pregnant wife? Nah, I don’t think so. There are three of us and one of you. Who do you think will wind up hurt?”
“Carter,” Olivia pleads quietly, reaching for him. “I’m scared.”
“Hear that? Your wife is scared. Get in your car and take her home.”
Carter squeezes her hand and guides her to me. “Jennie, get in the car and call the cops.”
My chest rises sharply, eyes darting around the men as they close in around Carter. Olivia clutches my arm, one hand on her stomach.
“Jennie,” she whimpers. “I don’t feel good.”
“Get in the car,” Carter repeats. “Now.”
I’m trying, but my feet aren’t moving. Why aren’t my feet moving? Why are those men walking toward him like that? Why isn’t he coming with us? I try to call for him, but something inside me is frozen in fear. When I close my eyes, all I see is my dad’s unrecognizable car. All I smell is stale beer. All I feel is…terror.
One of the men looks at Olivia, then me, and grins. “This isn’t gonna be fun for you two to watch.”
Olivia’s breath hitches as her eyes widen with panic, and I yank my phone out, dialing those three numbers.
“Nine-one-one, do you need fire, ambulance, or police?”
My response gets lost in my throat as all three men descend on Carter at once, a tangled mass of bodies rocking into a nearby car before falling to the ground.
Olivia’s bloodcurdling scream drowns everything else out except my own voice when I choke out, “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
CHAPTER 39
POPPING THE BUBBLE
JENNIE
“Mom, stop. I’m fine, I promise.”
She swipes at the tears beneath her bloodshot eyes, the ones she insists aren’t really there. She folds her trembling hands together in her lap, and I cover them with mine.
“I was so scared,” she whispers.
My heart plummets. I pull my mom into my arms, hugging her tight. Once is too many times to be on the receiving end of a phone call where a drunk driver has been involved.
“I’m safe. Olivia and the baby are safe, and Carter is safe. We’re all safe.”
Everyone other than Randall Duncan. Randall’s got a broken nose. His mouth is busted up pretty good too.
The other two got off easy, deciding they’d rather not be on the receiving end of Carter’s fist after they saw the damage he was doing to Randall. They scrambled away but didn’t get far.
Randall blew a 0.23 BAC, nearly triple the legal limit. I’ve been sitting here for the last hour, thinking about what might have happened if he’d gotten behind that wheel, whose life might have been lost.
My mom kisses my forehead. “I’m going to find the vending machine.”
“Okay.” I pick at the needle in the back of my hand where my IV is attached. “This thing is itchy as fuck. Can I take it out?”
“Jennifer Beckett, don’t touch it. Wait for the nurse to come back. You passed out, for heaven’s sake.”
“I had a panic attack.” I roll my eyes to make it sound like anything other than the big deal it was while I try to forget that, in that moment, all I could think about was a drunk driver taking the life of another person I love. “I’m gonna go see Olivia.”
Mom pushes me right back down to the bed when I stand. “You’ll wait here until I get back.”
I’m back on my feet when the door shuts behind her. My IV pole and I head out the door.
I find Olivia’s room in thirty seconds; I can hear Carter arguing with the staff.
“Oh, she can’t eat this. We’ll see the premium food menu, please.”
“Uh, we only have the one menu, Mr. Beckett.”
I watch from the doorway as Carter holds up a triangle of grilled cheese between his thumb and forefinger, keeping it at a distance like a disease might jump out.
“This is way too soggy. What kind of cheese is this? Ollie likes her grilled cheese on pumpernickel rye with aged smoked gouda, bonus points if you add bacon.”
“Right, well, we don’t, uh…” The poor woman scratches at her throat, face red. “We don’t have smoked gouda.”
Carter sighs, tossing the sandwich back to the tray. “Okay.”
Olivia smiles up at the woman. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.” Her gaze finds mine in the doorway when the woman leaves. “Jennie! How are you feeling?”
Carter leaps out of his seat and flies across the room, guiding me across it by my elbow at the pace of a literal snail. “Easy,” he murmurs.
“Carter.” I shake off his grip, but if I’m being honest, it feels nice to be on the receiving end of his attention, even if it’s selfish of me. Olivia and the baby are more important, and they’re his life. They need him right now, not me. “I can walk all on my own.”
“‘I can walk all on my own,’” he mimics, leading me to his chair. His large hands swallow my entire head as he yanks me into him, plopping a kiss to my hair. When he sits on the other side of Olivia’s bed, I notice his swollen, cracked knuckles, an angry shade of red. “Don’t know how I got saddled with two snarky brunettes.”
The chances that he’s about to be saddled with a third in a few weeks are ridiculously high, but he looks incredibly strung out right now. I won’t push him.