**This has not been edited or proofread.**
GRAYSON
I was aimlessly driving, trying to clear my head when I saw the mess. Officers were already on the scene at the bookstore, inspecting the shattered glass.
But Meredith was nowhere to be found; neither was Chase. I instantly knew something was wrong, a bad feeling settling in the pit of my stomach like a dead-weight stone.
I slung my truck into park and jumped out, rushing up to the scene. "Where's Chase?" I asked Deek, one of the officers.
He shrugged. "Don't know. He's on-call tonight, but he's not answering his phone. I'm guessing he went somewhere with Mrs. Meredith."
I shook my head. This wasn't like Chase, and I had a feeling that it definitely wasn't like Meredith.
I rushed around the back of the building to the stairs that led up to Meredith's apartment. I jogged up them two at a time, swinging open the screen door that led into the small hall. To my left were the stairs that led down into the bookstore. To my right was Meredith's door, which was standing ajar.
I rushed inside and instantly saw red.
The monster from my childhood was straddling Meredith, holding a pillow over her face. Max was unconscious on the floor in the kitchen. I snatched up a frying pan on the counter and slammed it against Gerald's skull, knocking him out.
He landed on the floor next to Meredith with a thump. "Meredith?" I asked, rushing forward. I shoved the pillow off her face. Her body was already bruising. Her face was blue. I pressed my fingers to her pulse, finding it after a moment. It was weak, but she was still alive.
"Stay with me, girl," I mumbled. "Help!" I shouted down the stairs before I rushed back to Meredith's body.
A moment later, I heard shoes pounding up the stairs. Instantly, two paramedics began to work on Meredith, placing an oxygen mask over her face, checking her pulse, loading her onto a stretcher to carry her down the stairs.
And that's when Chase rushed in.
His eyes were crazed, his clothes torn, blood running from some cuts on his body. His skin was smudged with soot.
But the look that entered his eyes, flashed across his face when he landed his eyes on his girlfriend?
It gutted me.
Horror took over his face before it turned pained, tears glistening in his eyes. "Meredith?" he croaked, rushing forward. "Explain to me what's going on," he snapped at the paramedic.
"Suffocation," Jean told him. "She's alive but barely. We need to get her to the hospital. You coming or what?"
Numbly, my best friend nodded his head and followed them down the stairs, waving off a couple of his officers when they tried to get him to get checked out.
I knew nothing was going to tear Chase away from Meredith right then.
I called Farrah. "Grayson?" she cried.
My heart broke in my chest. I hated hearing her cry. It tore at my soul.
"You okay, girly?" I roughly asked her, shoving my hand through my hair.
"No," she whimpered. "I found Chase on the side of the road. His truck was on fire. There was glass and twisted metal—" she broke off, a sob tearing from her throat. "I thought he was dead, but he was pulling himself out of the truck right as I pulled over."
"Brave girl," I murmured, knowing it would soothe her. She sniffled. "Meredith is on her way to the hospital. Chase is with her."
"What happened?" she gasped.
I moved down the stairs, nodding at a couple of the guys as they called out to me. I headed back towards my truck. "Gerald got into her apartment. He was suffocating her." Crap, the dog.
I rushed back up the stairs. Max was waking up, and he howled as he began to search for Meredith. Farrah stayed silent as I coaxed him to me, promising him we were going to her.
"I might need your help with him," I told Farrah in all honesty. I didn't know crap about service dogs.
"Stay there," she croaked. "I'm coming up."
A minute later, Farrah emerged, her blue eyes bloodshot and glassy with tears. Her face was pale. I drew her into a hug, holding her long enough for her to get herself together before I released her, allowing her to tend to Max.
After getting him calm, we rode together in my truck to the hospital.
Farrah kept her hand on Max when we got there. We were quickly led to Meredith's hospital room, and just as I'd thought he would be, Chase was sitting in a chair by her bed, her hand in his, his broken eyes on her face.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. His tone was broken, conveying every bit of guilt and pain he felt. Farrah clamped her hand to her mouth, a whimper muffled by her palm. I drew her into my arms as she let Max go, allowing him to go to her. Chase said something softly to the dog, soothing him as he nudged Meredith's hand.
"They'll be okay, right?" Farrah whispered, her voice breaking.
I rested my chin on the top of her head. "They have to be, girly," I whispered. "They have to be."
Because if everyone thought Chase was screwed up when he came home from the military? They would think he had been normal if he lost Meredith.
His mental health wouldn't survive losing her.