Standing By

Stolen

(Chance)

Phone perched in my hand resting on the steering wheel in my line of sight, I pulled up my map app. I moved my finger around the screen, trying to find the south precinct off of an Old Hickory Boulevard. I found fast food places, grocery stores, shops, churches—God knows I found churches; Nashville has so many churches you can't turn around without running into another church. I found Old Hickory Boulevard and followed it, moving the screen around to find the police station. It seemed to be a major road, running way around here. Couldn't he have been more specific?

Honnnk! someone honked at me angrily. Road, Chance, pay attention. I nudged back into my lane where I belonged, trying my best to navigate in an unfamiliar city. Finally I just typed it in the search bar—and got a gazillion results. Ugh. I needed the South Precinct Nashville Police Department. I found one that looked promising and poked it. It thought a minute then spat out the directions I'd requested. It told me my destination was on the left in twelve miles. Hallelujah, I was on the right track! I'm on my way, Tim, almost there! I thought it hard, wishing I could send him a telepathic message. The road was curvy and demanded all my attention, so I stuck my phone in the extra cup holder and let it instruct me verbally. After a long last, I pulled into the station. OK. First order of business was to find out where that checkbook was. I dialed Austin.

"Hey Chance," he said, sounding subdued and sullen.

"Hey, I'm here. Where are you? What's your ETA?"

"Ehh..." He paused, considered. "Hour and a half-ish? I'm between Chattanooga and Nashville."

"Wow." I was impressed. I wasn't sure he'd be in Tennessee yet. "You're making awesome time."

"I was about an hour north of Tifton to begin with," Austin said. "At my mom's. And Atlanta was surprisingly easy."

"That's lucky! Glad you're having an easy drive!"

"Eh, more or less," he muttered, and I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? He didn't give me a chance to ask, just went on. "You said you're there already?"

"Yep," I said, watching two cop cars come racing in and going behind the building. "Just sitting outside here. I did not go to his house."

"Good, good. I'm glad. I want you safe," Austin told me, sounding a touch weepy.

"I am, Austin. You too, OK? Do not have a wreck or do anything stupid. I know you've got to be speeding to have made it as far as you have already."

"Uh... well, yeah," he admitted, chuckling. "I have, however, slowed way the hell down here in Tennessee. I'm just doing seventy-five now."

"Just seventy-five?" I exclaimed. If he had slowed 'way the hell down', what'd he been doing before, one hundred? I closed my eyes. God. Don't wreck, Austin, please, be safe.

He ignored my exclamation. "Go on in and wait for me. At least Tim won't be alone."

"Right, that'll help a lot. He sounded so alone and scared and depressed earlier," I acknowledged, remembering his words. 'And a friend. God, I need a friend.' It tugged at my heartstrings. Tim, as long as I'm alive, you'll never be alone.

"Absolutely. Go to him. Don't make him wait," Austin told me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Talk to you later. Love you."

I paused. Love you? Since when did we start telling each other that regularly? It seemed awkward. I'm not really the most demonstrative person in the world. Austin can be though. Feeling weird, I returned the phrase. "Love you too. Bye." I clicked the phone off and shook my head out. Well, bottom line was, I did love him. I loved every single one of my band members. Definitely not romantically—I am one hundred percent straight—but I do love them like brothers. I love them as much as my actual brother.