I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

60 (NEW)

PHIL

Reba is upset with me for finally telling our son the truth. She sits in an armchair, working a crossword puzzle, and watching unforgettable television commercials on TVLAND. This program shows wacky and comical commercials from the '60s.

I watch the screen, propped up on pillows on the bed, wondering if Chris is back yet. The car is gone...Sam is still here. I can hear him pacing around downstairs. I can feel the guy overthinking and debating from all the way up here.

What can he do in this situation? It's not like the subject can be dropped easily. Nakamo is more than an ex. He's a close friend to Chris. It's evident that Sam has a jealousy monster on his shoulder...it may be more prominent now since I spilled the beans.

Chris has blocked everyone out for days...and is now gone to Nakamo's place. Sam has to be livid. I know from experience, with Reba, that seeing someone you love race away after another person, is a horror story.

"You had to open that big ass mouth, didn't you?" Reba shoots daggers my way over the magazine.

I give her an equally matched intensity. "You couldn't tiptoe around it forever."

"I wasn't...I was going to tell him."

"Was...meaning not."

She slaps the magazine down and crosses her arms, throwing a ruthless nostril flare. "You need to be delicate with things like this...so it doesn't give the wrong impression. This is exactly the opposite of what you did."

"You can't always protect him, Reba," I remark sternly. "Life is tough; just rip off the Band-Aid."

"You could have softened the blow and told him that Naka didn't regret him...that he changed only to end nightmares. But like a dumbass man, you skipped this information!"

"He asked me a simple question...I gave him a simple answer."

Reba shakes her head at me. "God, I wish it didn't come from you...now Chris is out being dramatic and misinformed."

"It had to be done." I point my attention to the TV, resting my case.

She huffs, taking her hands to her eyes to rub them. "I didn't want him to feel like he made a bad life choice...as if something is wrong with him. As if he's not good enough. That's all." Reba comments sentimental.

"I doubt he will think any of that..."

My wife rolls her eyes heavily at me. "He's human."

A revving car from outside causes our heads to dart to the window. The sound continues on aggressively, drawing out long engine noises. Hmm...that's an odd thing to happen on this street...very odd. I look to my love and shrug. "Must be a drunk driver." The revving climbs.

Reba tucks the magazine under her arms, and stands, fixing her robe. "I'm calling in a report, that's ridiculous!" She grabs a house phone clipped into a charger adapter and dials three numbers. Screeching tires are now accompanied with the revving...outside seems to have turned into a race track.

The insufferable sound hurts my ears. I stand. My wife and I push back curtains of a window to look onto the picture-perfect street. To our surprise, plotted in the middle of the street, is a man. "What is happening?"

I hear the dialing line pick up. "911, what's your emergency?"

"Well...there's this guy in the middle of our street and a car...I think a standoff-" She pauses abruptly...rendering me to raise my brows. The tires of a green car press on screeching, the revving roars louder. A few neighbors watch from their windows as we are.

"What is it?" I ask, taking in the posture of the guy on the road. A cocksure stance, buff arms extended-a hostility that mirror the car.

"I...I think that's Sam!" Reba replies hoarsely. I gawk at her, then at the street, observing the body closely for something familiar. From afar, I couldn't tell if it was him or not. She drops the phone with a gasp. "IT IS!" My wife jets from our bedroom, pounding to the hall, her steps booming down the stairs fast.

The car stops revving and screeches towards the man at high speed. Rolling the streets, out for blood. The guy stays put. "Oh no...oh no no no!! WHAT THE HELL!!" I race out of the room, skipping stairs and breezing through an open door.

The green car charges at who, I now make out, to really be Sam. HE NEEDS TO MOVE!! I make to speak but my mouth dries out; Reba holds her chest as she runs the driveway, but it's too late.

The car nears so close to Sam...building much dread. Before it plows into Sam, it swerves...but the tail of the car prepares for a hard impact. My heart stops. The backside of the car jams into Sam's leg, cracking bone, forcing it to bend awkwardly before wacking him onto the asphalt.