When another sharp corner approaches, my breath hitches, and I look at River to find his jaw tight with determination.
“Riv––”
“It’s gonna be okay,” he tells me as he pumps the useless brakes again. It does nothing to stall our momentum. Hurdling closer, the sharp turn mocks us, but I don’t know what to do.
“River––”
“I love you––”
With a hard jerk, my shoulder jams into the window before my neck snaps forward and the seat belt tightens against my chest.
My mind scrambles to figure out what the hell is happening when it hits me like a ton of bricks.
We didn’t make the turn.
And now, we’re rolling.
Over and over again, we tumble down the hill as the crunch of metal tattoos itself in my memory. Broken glass bites at my face and the exposed skin along my arms, but I don’t feel it as the world rushes around me in a blur of chaos. My limbs are floundering, making me feel like a rag doll as I wait for it all to just…stop.
41
Reese
With my heart in my throat, the truck lands on its roof and rocks back and forth a few more times before finally ceasing.
Vision blurry, I blink several times and wince at the sharp pain shooting down my spine as I find myself hanging upside down with only the seat belt to keep me in place.
“R-River?” I cough.
“Reese?” he grunts beside me. His voice barely makes it past the ringing in my ears. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Cough. Cough. “Yeah. I’m okay. W-what’s that…?” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus, but my head is killing me, and my wrist feels like it’s been snapped in two. Clutching it to my chest, I try again and ignore the way the blood is rushing into my skull. “W-what’s that smell?”
“The truck’s on fire, babe. Can you get out?”
In a daze, I try to comprehend his words, but it feels like my brain is in a thick, jumbled fog, and I can’t concentrate.
“What?” I croak.
“The truck’s on fire, Reese,” he repeats, his voice deathly calm. “Can you get out?”
The truck. Is. On fire.
The truck is on fire.
The truck’s on fire.
Shit.
We need to get out.
Bracing myself for impact, I unbuckle my seat belt then land on my hands and knees in a loud oomph. I wince as a piece of glass slices my palm but ignore it as the orange blaze starts spreading from the engine, licking its way toward the main cabin.
“River, come on, we gotta get out of here,” I plead.
“My belt buckle is stuck,” he grits out, jiggling it back and forth as he stays suspended in his seat.
The flames rise higher, burning my cheeks with their blistering heat as my weary focus bounces between the imminent danger and a trapped River.
“We gotta get you out of here,” I tell him.
Jerking in his seat, he tries to force the buckle to release, but it’s no use.
“River!” I scream, my anxiety overwhelming me. The flames claw closer, threatening to envelop the cab with their unforgiving heat.
“River! Come on. We gotta get you out of here!”
“Get out!” he yells back at me. “You need to get out!”
“I can’t leave you!”
His tone is steady as he reaches for me and cups my cheek.
“Riv––” I cry.
“You have to calm down, Reese. You have to get out of the truck, and you have to get a safe distance away in case it explodes. Do you understand me?”
“I’m not leaving you––”
“You don’t have a choice. I need you to be safe.”
“But I need you to be safe,” I choke out, leaning into his touch as if my life depends on it.
“Then get out and go get help. I love you, okay?”
The tears stream freely down my face before I reach for his strap and pull on it with all my might.
“Get out of the fucking truck, Reese!” he orders, losing his patience. “Now!”
“No––”
“Now!”
I drop my hurt hand to my side and whisper, “I love you, River. I love you so––”
“Get out!” he bellows. The fear in his eyes threatens to consume me before the sound of sirens echoes through the trees.
Help. I need to get help.
I scramble out of the car and run up the hill as fast as I can, waving my arms wide.
“We’re here! Hurry! We’re here!” I yell at the top of my lungs.
River’s screams reach a new pitch as the flames finally spread to the cab of the truck, and a police car rounds the corner. It screeches to a halt at the top of the hill where we careened off it and is followed by an ambulance.
The rest goes by in a blur of chaos. One of the officers barrels toward the wreck with an extinguisher in hand, followed by a second officer who assists him in attempting to put out the fire.
Collapsing onto the wet grass, I cover my mouth and sob as they pull an unconscious body from the blaze.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
With my knees pulled to my chest, I rock back and forth, praying this is a dream while a voice inside of me is screaming that it’s a nightmare.
And I’ll never wake up from it.
42
Reese
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The heart monitor drones on and on, but it’s the only lullaby I need as my eyes flutter open.
White. So much white. There are a bunch of machines. An open curtain. A window to my left. And a small bouquet of dandelions that have my heart aching in under a second.
“Hey,” a gritty voice calls.
“H-hi.” My voice is rusty from lack of use and feels like I’ve been gargling broken glass for the last twenty-four hours.
“Do you like ‘em? The flowers?” Milo asks.
A laugh that sounds more like a whimper is pulled out of me. “I love them. How did you remember?”
“I saw them outside. You used to pick them in the field by our house. Said they were the only flowers you ever needed because they managed to make…what was it again?”
“Beauty out of shitty circumstances,” I finish for him.
“Yeah.” Milo stands up from the uncomfortable-looking chair in the corner of the room and inches closer to me. “You scared us, sis.”
My head is killing me as I try to piece together all the chaos, but it feels like trying to put a puzzle together in a pitch-black room.
Almost impossible.
“Where is everyone?”
“Sonny and Jake are waiting for an update on Riv in the waiting room.”
River.
The tape on my IV tugs at my skin as I raise my hands to my face and cry into them. There’s a cast on my left wrist, confirming the severity of the situation as the night replays itself like a bad movie. The storm. The headlights. The brakes. The sharp turn. The rolling. The heat. All of it. Each memory from the crash nearly breaks me, rising to the surface like a leaking oil drum in the ocean, tainting my soul in a way that’s irreversible.