Forever & More: The Friend Zone series Page 7

  I start to speak, but he cuts me off. “Go get her man.” I just nod in thanks and take off.

  Sara shouts from behind me, “Let her go; she needs a few minutes alone.”

  I turn to her and spit angrily, “No, she needed her best friend to have her back. Not fucking embarrassing her and spill her problems all over the floor for everyone to see and walk on later.” I turn and run out of BAR. I haven’t run since Chloe and I ran together in the park before her accident, and I’m paying for it now. My thighs and lungs feel like they’re on fire, but I don’t let that slow me down. I’ve got to get to her and make sure she’s all right.

  I can only imagine the devastation Sara’s words have caused her. I pump my arms and legs harder and harder until I’m almost at her apartment. When I see her dash out of the building and climb in my Jeep, I push myself harder. She starts backing up and I spot her staring at me in the rearview mirror. For a split second, I think she’s going to stop the vehicle, but I quickly realize I’m wrong when the engine revs loudly and she takes off down the street.

  I chase after her until her taillights are out of sight. Panic seeps into my veins; I’m at a loss of what to do. Where is she going? Shit, she’s drunk and driving! This is so fucked up. I run into the building and up the stairs as fast as my feet will carry me. Once I’m inside the apartment, I pull out my phone and find Harley’s number.

  It rings three times before he finally answers. The music is so loud I can barely hear him say, “Hello.”

  “She’s gone!” I gasp into the phone.

  “What, man? I can’t fucking hear you,” he shouts.

  I cut the speakerphone on and scream, “She’s fucking gone.” The word fuck registers over the music, then all I hear is the dial tone. I dial Chloe’s number next, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try calling several more times again, and each time, I get the same response. Each time, I leave several messages, begging for her to call me, to let me know she’s okay.

  With every missed call, my worry increases, leaving me with an overpowering sense of helplessness. My stomach turns with unease. I don’t know what to do, so I pace through the apartment, running through all of my options. I grab my phone and stare at it for several moments before I decide to call Detective Sanders. I note the clock says ten fifteen but I don’t care; I hit the call button and put the phone to my ear.

  The second time the phone rings and he answers. “Detective Sanders.”

  “Chloe’s gone, she left, and I don’t know where she is,” I say in a rush.

  “Slow down, son. What are you talking about?” he asks.

  I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Chloe was at BAR, she and Sara had words, well she and I did as well. I went after her when she ran out of BAR and now she’s gone. She got in my Jeep and left. I don’t know where she went.”

  “Was she drinking?”

  “Yes,” I admit. I don’t want to get her in trouble, I just want to find her.

  “Which way did she go?” I wish he would quit asking me all these questions and send out a fucking APB or something.

  “West toward Main.” Why is he still talking? I’m still pacing when Sara and Harley enter the apartment.

  “I’m getting in my car now. I’ll call the station on my way to your place. Where are you exactly?”

  “Thank you, Detective. I’m at Chloe’s.” We both say our goodbyes. As soon as my phone is removed from my ear, Sara starts talking.

  “She won’t answer my calls. What did you do?” she accuses.

  “What the fuck are you getting at? She was fucking gone before I got here, and if I’m not mistaken, you play a part in all this shit, too. So do not pass the fucking buck to me when you’re just as goddamned guilty!”

  I sat back and let her think on my words. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but fuck it all if I didn’t need the release it gave me to unleash some of this anger. That release was short-lived, though, when I watched Sara’s chin tremble right before she dropped her head.

  I had been wondering when the moment I finally broke would hit me. And I’m so grateful Chloe wasn’t here to witness me drop to my knees and cry like I’ve never cried before. It doesn’t take long for the hardwood floor beneath me to become flooded with giant, salty tears. At some point, Harley picked Sara out of her chair and placed her near me.

  One moment I feel cold, desolate, and helpless and the next, I’m embraced in warm, feminine arms. I hear her soft, trembling voice tell me it’s okay and that we will get her back, that everything will work out and we’ll all be better people in the end. She whispers how we need to get our shit together and be strong for Chloe, that we need to be her rock.

  The whole time she’s trying to build me up, my psyche is trying to tear me down. How the fuck am I supposed to be strong for her when I’m so easily broken? How am I supposed to be her rock when I’m not strong enough?

  A knock on the door interrupts our private moment. I jump to my feet and walk to the door. When I answer it, I see the distressed face of Detective Sanders standing in the hall. I stand back so he can enter. My heart drums against my chest heavily, waiting for the shoe to drop. Something’s wrong and I feel it deep in my gut. I follow him into the living room, trailing behind him like a child that’s misbehaved and is now about to be scolded by his parent.

  He clears his throat. “I’ve been in contact with one of my officers who has spotted your Jeep in the parking lot at the gas station six blocks west.” Sara gasps at his statement. He clears his throat again and continues, “There was no one there. The vehicle reeked of alcohol and the keys were in the seat but other than that, everything looked normal. There was no sign of a struggle, no evidence that suggests foul play.” The finality in his voice leaves me confused.

  “So, what does that mean?” I ask. My thoughts are running wild. Visions of kidnappings and shootouts run rampant in my mind.

  “I’m sorry to say that it means that there’s nothing more that we can do. I’m sorry, son, you can file a missing persons report, but it’s only been what, a couple of hours?” he states.

  “So, I’m just supposed to sit around and do nothing until you find her in a fucking ditch somewhere?” I walk to the counter and search for the spare car key to Harley’s Nova. I know he won’t just let me take the car, so asking him isn’t an option. When I can’t find them, I sling the glass bowl against the wall and scream, “Fuck!”

  I feel something smooth and cold being shoved into my hand. I don’t have to look to know that Harley’s just passed me the keys to his most prized possession. I don’t have a game plan, I don’t know where to start, all I know is I’m not about to sit in the fucking apartment where everything reminds me of her and stare at the walls until she comes home.

  Not a chance in fucking hell. I take the stairs two at a time until I’m walking out the front door and climbing into the candy apple car. I adjust the mirrors and seat right before sliding the key into the ignition. The car purrs to life and I shift into reverse. Once I’m on the street, I let the car idle for a moment. I know Harley’s going to be livid for what I’m about to do, but I need to feel that release again.

  For a man, sitting in a powerful car like this can give you a sense of being invincible, and that’s what I need. I need the power this beauty possesses to vibrate through me. The roar of the engine combined with the full fury of my emotions slam into me. I slam into first gear and dump the clutch, causing the car to lunge forward and the tires to screech against the asphalt.

  Moments later, the smoke evaporates into the night sky and I disappear in the opposite direction. My thoughts are of Chloe and her well-being. I’ve gotta find her so I can breathe again.

  My phone chimes; I pull it from my pocket and see Brady’s number followed by his text.

  Things okay?

  I quickly hit the text to talk button and say, “No, Chloe’s MIA. Let me know if she turns up at BAR.” I give the phone a minute to transcribe my messa
ge before I hit send. A minute later my phone rings.

  “Yeah?”

  “What the fuck do you mean MIA?” he yells above the music.

  “Just what the fuck I said.” I then go into explaining what happened as I drive west down main.

  “Jesus, dude. I don’t know what the fuck to say,” he replies.

  “Tell me ‘bout it. Look, if she turns up, just let me know so I can come get her. Do not, under any circumstances, let her leave. I don’t give a shit if you have to hog tie her ass.”

  “Yeah, man, I got ya. I will call ya.” We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone in the console and continue searching the night.

  I search until the early hours of the morning and still don’t find her. I’m out of my mind with worry now. What if something happened to her? I’ve driven all over town and even into a couple of the surrounding towns. I’ve stopped in all the bars, gas stations, and restaurants that were open, asking if anyone has seen her, but of course, no one has. I dialed her number a million and a half times, but I’m still not getting any answer.

  I’m not sure what to do at this point but to go back home. I turn into the parking lot of some podunk bar and head back in the direction I just came from. I drive for about twenty minutes when my phone rings. I look at the display and my heart falls to the floorboard. The car swerves on the road as I frantically reach for the phone.

  “Hello? Chloe?” I quickly answer.

  “Yep.” She pops her lips together on the P.

  “Where are you, baby? Let me come get you and take you home, okay?” I beg.

  “Na, I think I just wanna hang out here. Why do you love me?” Her question throws me off guard, but one thing I know for certain is that Chloe is belligerently drunk. Her words are slurred whispers and it’s obvious that she is working really hard to get them out.

  “Baby, where’s here? I want to bring you home.”

  “I’ll be home soon. Just not with you,” she slurs.

  What the fuck is she talking about?

  “Just tell me where you are, Chloe. You’re scaring me!” I say as I pull into a closed gas station.

  “I’m okay. I’m just hanging with an old friend and pondering all of life’s dilemmas.” She giggles.

  “What old friend, Chloe?” I ask. Maybe Sara has this friend’s number so we can call them. She doesn’t answer my question, but she mumbles, “bye” and hangs up the phone. I quickly call her back, but she doesn’t answer.

  I scroll through my calls and find Sara’s number; it’s four in the morning, but she answers on the first ring. “Chloe just called and said she’s with an old friend. Please tell me you know what the fuck she’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

  “Fuck, I’m willing to bet anything that she’s at the cemetery.” I hang up and drive in the direction of Tom’s resting place. I press the gas pedal to the floor and speed off in the direction of the sunrise.

  Something in my gut tells me Sara’s right and I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. But why would she go there? Question after question flows through my mind. Who, where, and why remain unanswered as I get closer and closer to Chloe.

  Forty something minutes later, I pull up to the cemetery. There’s an eerie feeling that settles over this place, just like in every horror movie you’ve ever seen. I put the car in park and enter through the iron archway. The cobble stone path that leads deep into the heart of this place is surrounded by trees and headstones. The early morning light gleams off the smooth surface of each tomb. I walk deep into the cemetery until I finally spot Chloe, slumped over on the ground with a bottle of Jack in one hand and pulled tight to her chest.

  The sight of her lying motionless and looking pale on the grass sends my system into hysterics and I start sprinting toward her. When I reach her, I lean down and call her name. She doesn’t respond so I roll her over onto her back and notice her chest looks still.

  I frantically search for her pulse until finally, I feel a very slight thud against my trembling hand. I begin screaming her name and shaking her, still not able to get a response. Quickly, I roll her over and shove my fingers down her throat until I feel it convulse around the tips of them. She gags slightly, but it doesn’t get the result I was aiming for.

  I sit her up against Tom’s stone and pray to God that I can pull her through this. I push my fingers back into her throat again until she vomits. It’s such a heart-wrenching sight to witness the love of my life barely hanging on by a thread. Her body’s so weak that when she vomits, her eyes never open.

  I dig my phone out of my pocket and dial 9-1-1. Once I get the operator on the line, I put it on speakerphone and try to make Chloe vomit again. I take a step closer and something crunches under my feet. When I look down and see the brown plastic in a million pieces, I know what it is.

  What the fuck was she thinking? The entire bottle is empty, I pick it up and look at the label noting that it’s her Xanax prescription. I relay the information to the operator who then reminds me that help is on the way.

  I look at the stone in front of me, and although I know I won’t get a response, it doesn’t stop me from screaming what I had to say.

  “Tom, you piece of fucking shit. You took her life away; now’s your chance to give it back to her!”

  “What was that, sir?” The operator asks.

  “Just please hurry and get here,” I beg.

  No sooner did the words leave my mouth, flashing red and white lights pull up next to Harley’s car. I pick up Chloe and run through the cemetery as fast as I can.

  “You the husband?” The paramedic asks.

  I nod.

  “Are you riding or following, sir?”

  “Riding,” I answer.

  We get in the ambulance and turn left out of the parking lot so fast, it feels like we turned the corner on two wheels. Everything the men in blue pants and grey shirts say run together. Low BP, non-responsive, overdose, alcohol poisoning. I pull out my phone and send a text to Harley.

  Meet me at the hospital. Chloe’s in bad shape. Cars at cemetery.

  He will have to make do with that because I’m done; she needs me and nothing else matters. I put my phone silent, then shove it into my pocket.

  The entire thirty-minute ride to the hospital is completely lost on me. I watch her face intently, not one time do I take my eyes off her pale face. Black mascara is smeared on her porcelain skin giving her raccoon eyes. Her lashes are matted together, twigs are sticking out of her hair, and dirt is smudged all over her face. The oxygen mask sitting on her face is an unfriendly reminder of all we’ve already gone through.

  She looks so vulnerable and broken. My eyes flood with unshed tears. How did it all come to this? On that thought, the tears I was holding in spill over as I choke out my sobs. Chloe’s lifeless form becomes blurred and I rub at my swollen eyes in a feeble attempt to get them out of the way so I can see her again.

  Each moment passes and I feel more and more helpless. There has to be something I can do to fix this, to fix her. There has to be some sort of cure to vanquish the demons she’s fighting inside her mind.

  The blurred shadows of the paramedics become frantic. Up until now, I hadn’t heard a word they’ve said this entire journey until, “we’re losing her,” rings out above the commotion. My heart races as I listen to the high pitch noise as they charge the paddles. I hear one of them say “clear” and I squeeze my eyes shut. I barely open them when her body settles from the jolt of electricity they just shot through her tiny body.

  My limbs are trembling and my stomach is churning, but through the turmoil and the sadness, I find myself begging God to let her live.

  God please, I can’t live without her. Bring her back, give her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything!

  I beg until I’m out of breath. I look up and immediately wished I hadn’t. Chloe’s eyes are open and zeroed in on me. The air’s knocked out of my lungs and I collapse to the ground, crawling to her. The paramedic grabs me by my shoulders bu
t I shrug them off. There’s no way in hell they are taking her away from me. I just got her back for the second time and I’m not losing her a third time.

  “Wake up, Chloe! Get up! Don’t you dare fucking leave me! Do you hear me? You can’t leave me!” My lips find hers and I don’t care that it reeks of Jack and vomit. I kiss her as if I can breathe the life back into her. I refuse to accept that this is it. I won’t let her leave me behind to live the rest of my life without her.

  “Son, you need to back up.” The paramedic grabs for me again.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” I growl, ready for a fight.

  “You’re going to suffocate her. We need to get the oxygen mask back on her,” he states. His words cause me to freeze instantly.

  “What? If she just died, why would she need oxygen?” I ask aloud but was only meant for me.

  “Son, she’s still with us. Now I need you to get back in your seat,” he scolds while replacing the mask.

  I move back to my seat, stunned. She’s alive. Holy-mother-fucking-shit she’s not dead. She didn’t leave me. I chuckle on a rush of air. This time, when I look into her eyes, I see what I missed the first time. She sees me, she knows I’m here.

  The ambulance veers to the left, pulling into the hospital. When the doors open, I can see Sara just inside the main doors to the hospital with Harley. The paramedics quickly get Chloe inside and down the hall. I’m told to wait in the main waiting room while they get her ready and contact her next of kin.

  “I’m her power of attorney,” Sara states from behind me.

  “I still need you to go to the waiting room. Someone will be coming to get you shortly,” the nameless paramedic said. Sara and Harley start to walk away, but I remain stock-still.

  “Dude, don’t. Just come on. The sooner we get out of their way, the sooner they can do their job and you can be with her again,” he whispers in my ear, sensing that I’m about to act out because the last thing I want to do is leave her here all alone.