Serendipity (4 page)

My phone falls from the passenger seat, onto the floor. I glance around to make sure there aren’t any cars and I reach down to feel around for my phone.

Earlier that same day…

I walk into the house and wipe the sweat off my brow. It’s hot as fuck outside, and it’s not even summer yet. The Tennessee heat can really get to you if you’re not careful.

I’ve been working for three hours when my mom calls me into the house for breakfast. I’ve already milked the cows, fed the horses and cleaned the stable, yet I still have about ten more hours of work before I can call it a day.

Sometimes I regret not going to college. Unlike my friends, I chose to stay and work on my parents’ farm. I wanted to experience life like they had but that wasn’t in the hand I was dealt. Nope, instead I got the ‘you’re fucked’ hand. My parents are older than most of my friends’ parents and the farm is their only means of income. So when it came time for graduation, I knew what I had to do. I’ve been working on the farm since I was ten and I loved every minute of it but now, it’s not nearly as fun.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my parents, but being the only child, this feels more like an obligation than a choice. I had my fun in high school—and plenty of it—but now it’s time for me to be the good son that my parents raised and show them that I’m not the fuck up that I was in high school.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh but I have to admit, when you live in my neck of the woods, there isn’t much to do. Naturally, doing things we probably shouldn’t have been doing happened often. Now, I work my ass off and hope I can make my parents proud.

“Sit down Dean, and make sure you clear your plate.” My mom sets down a plate full of eggs, bacon and hash browns. Same shit, different day—things around here don’t change very often. I’ll never complain though because it makes my dad happy. But I secretly wonder if he ever gets sick of this meal too.

I take a sip of my black coffee and look over the rim at my dad engrossed in an article in the newspaper. I look away when he catches my gaze.

“Whatcha lookin’ at? Eat your breakfast, we have work to do.” He grunts.

I don’t know if you can call the relationship I have with my parents a loving one. Don’t get me wrong, I know they love me and I love them. My mom is the nurturing type. It doesn’t matter who you are, she will take you under her wing and care for you. My dad on the other hand, let’s just say that the last time we had a ‘father and son bonding moment’ was when I was around eleven. Yep, that’s almost fifteen years ago.

“Yes, sir,” I turn my attention to my breakfast and try not to gag while eating. Once—just once—it would be nice for my mom to make something else.

“Oh, and I need you to make a couple of stops today when you go into town,” my dad says, without even looking up.

“I wasn’t planning on going into town today.” I cover my eggs with salt and pepper, hoping to give them a new flavor. I hate the taste of scrambled eggs. Ever since I was a kid, I always would use Ketchup or hot sauce but nowadays my mom is on a ‘natural’ kick to lower my dad’s cholesterol.

“Well then change your plans. I need something from Sam’s store and I don’t feel like driving so I need you to go pick it up.”

Seriously, I must look like a puppet to my dad. I’ve already given up so much to please him but I guess it’s not enough that I put my life on hold to take over the family farm, now I have to run his errands too?

“Yes, sir,” I concede and choke down my food so that I can get back to work. It’s pointless to argue with him. At this rate, I’m going to be fifty years old and still answering to my dad.

The day passes by just like any other. There are still a couple of hours before dinner so I decide to pick up whatever my dad needed before Sam’s store closes. I hop into the old white truck that we use just for farm business, turn the music up and roll down the windows. This is the most relaxed I’ve been in some time.

Minutes later, I pull into the old plaza. Years ago, I remember coming here and there was a store in every outlet but not anymore. Now it’s just Sam’s hardware store and a small dollar store a few doors down. I don’t even waste time parking in a spot, I just park right in front of the store, along the curb and jump out. Pulling open the door, an old bell that sounds like it’s on its last leg chimes—if that’s what you want to call it.

Sam is sitting behind the counter as if he was waiting for me. I plaster on a smile and greet him with my arm extended and shake his hand. “Look at you, Dean. Ain’t you growin’ into a fine young man? And that grip you got.” He shakes my hand and I can tell the frail old man is trying to grip as hard as he can.

“Good to see you too, Sam. My dad said that he called in an order to you earlier?” I rest my hands on the glass showcase counter next to the register. I look around at the old, dusty store. I think it’s nearly as old as Sam is and that’s
old
!

I’ve been coming to Sam’s for as long as I can remember, weekend errands always included a trip to the hardware store. Now that the bigger stores are just a few towns over and Sam’s place is becoming a little run down--okay, more than a little--he’s good people and as long as he’s around I’ll continue to give him business. I’m sure if I didn’t, my dad would have my ass.

Sam slowly walks out of the back room with what looks like an empty plastic bag in his hand. I meet him half way and take the bag from him. I open it up and then look back at Sam inquisitively.

“Yep, that’s all he wanted was a box of nails.” He shrugs and walks behind the counter.

I pull my wallet out and hand him a ten dollar bill.

He holds his hand up and refuses. “No, Dean, your dad already paid for it.”

I sigh and put the money back in my wallet. He places his fingers on the brim of his tattered, black cowboy hat that I’ve been seeing him in for years, gives a nod and I return the gesture. When he turns to walk into the back room again, I place the money on the register.

“Thanks Sam, I’ll see you soon.” I call out over my shoulder before leaving.

I’m livid. Livid that my ass of a dad sent me all the way into town to get a fucking box of nails when we probably have at least twenty boxes of various sizes in the shed.

I grumble and twist the bag into a ball. Pulling the truck door open, I toss the bag into the passenger seat and slam the door. I hit my palms against the steering wheel and curse under my breath. I can’t believe I had to stop working to pick up a box of nails.

I take off my University of Tennessee Volts cap and blow out a deep breath and run my hand through my hair before slipping my cap back on. I pull out of the parking lot in front of Sam’s and that’s when it happens in the blink of an eye. I slam on the brakes but it’s too late.

Pain radiates though my body. I open my eyes to find myself hunched over the steering wheel.
What the fuck?

I wince and sit back, pulling the seat belt that is cutting into my neck away. I look down to see my white shorts are now splattered with blood.
Shit! My favorite shorts!

“Miss? Are you okay Miss?” I hear a faint voice in the distance.

Do I look okay, asshole?

“I just called 911, they should be here soon. Are you okay?”

A tall, dark man has his hands cupped around his eyes and his face pressed against my window. I unbuckle myself and reach for the handle. He steps back to allow room for me to open the door. Pushing the door open with my foot, the sound of scraping metal fills my ears. I close my eyes tight and breathe deeply.

This seriously cannot be happening.

“Maybe you should stay in the car until help arrives ma’am.” His southern drawl makes my ears bleed.

Ignoring him, I brace my hand on the steering wheel and the seat, pulling myself up and out of the car. My legs are shaky and my once perfect hair is now a disheveled mess. I brush it away from my face and narrow my eyes. If looks could kill, this guy would be a dead man.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay,” he places his hands on his chest and exhales with relief.

I grit my teeth and lean against the mangled car.

“Do I look okay to you, asshole? What the fuck were you thinking? Are you so fucking blind that you didn’t see the bright red car coming?” I throw my hands in the air and wince, my hand hurts and my head is throbbing.

He chuckles and steps towards me, but I put my hand up to stop him getting too close. “I’m sorry but I think you’re a little confused. Yes, I did see you coming but
you’re
the one that ran the red light. Not me. “

My eyes widen. I can’t believe this asshole actually thinks the accident was
my
fault! I throw my head back and laugh, ignoring the pain. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I saw the light and it was clearly yellow but I was going too fast to slow down. That is perfectly legal. You’re the one who hit me. This is your fault!” I all but shout back.

He’s about to open his mouth but closes it quickly as a police cruiser and an emergency vehicle close in—their sirens deafening in the otherwise quiet street. I look to the man and see his mouth moving but I can’t hear anything he says—thank fuck!

“You really shouldn’t move. You’re bleeding.” He leans in close enough so that I’m able to hear him over the sirens.

No shit, Captain Obvious!

Before I can reply I’m gripped by strong hands and placed on a gurney. I lay my head on the soft bed and close my eyes.

This is just my luck!

“Ma’am, we’re going to take you to the hospital. Your injuries don’t look too extensive but better safe than sorry.”

I pry my eyes open and look at the woman next to me, dabbing the blood from my forehead.

“I’m fine. I just want to go back to my hotel room and forget this all happened.” I try to sit up but I’m quickly pushed back down.

“No can do, ma’am.” I turn to see a very young—and hot—guy next to me. I watch as he walks to the end of the gurney and lifts me into the ambulance. “We need to take you in and an officer will be by shortly to take your statement.”

I groan with frustration. Not only are my new clothes ruined but so is the rental. This asshole who hit me better pay up!