“Mom, I can’t talk about him. Not now. Can we… just not?”
Mom sighed. “I understand, baby,” she finally said. “I shouldn’t have pushed. Your feelings about your father are your own, and I need to respect that.”
Wait—what? That’s it? No lecture on forgiveness?
“It’s just that…” she continued, “I remember how close you two were before he married Ash — before everything happened. But you’re right. You’re an adult now, and these are your decisions to make.”
The knot in my chest loosened. “Thank you.”
We chatted for a few more minutes about her plans to travel to St. Lucia with her best friend the next day. She made me promise to text her every morning and at night before bed, her usual insurance policy against worry. After we said our goodbyes, I did a small spin and inhaled a deep breath of freedom.
The road stretched empty before me, curving around the hillside in a tempting ribbon of asphalt. I pulled out my phone and propped it against my tote bag on a nearby rock, carefully angling it to capture both me and the sweeping landscape behind.
I scrolled through my music, selecting something with a heavy beat, then stepped back into the frame. No way I’m posting this. It’s strictly for the camera roll.
I began to dance, not the childish TikTok choreography I’d planned, but something more sensual. My hips swayed as I ran my hands down my sides, over my curves. I twisted my body, letting the music guide me, embracing the fullness of my figure.
If Kat were here, she’d probably smirk and ask how many calories I thought I was burning, or make some offhand comment about my body taking up more space than hers.
But there was no Kat now. Just me, the music, and the open road.
I lost myself in the rhythm, my body moving in ways that would have made my mother gasp. I tossed my head back, laughing at my boldness.
The growl of an engine swelled behind me. A sleek black car whipped around the bend, hurtling straight toward me. Tires screamed as it fishtailed across the asphalt.
A shot of cold terror ran through me. Move, Tia. Move. But my muscles locked, every instinct screaming at me to run, yet my legs refused to budge. I stood frozen, breath trapped in my throat, watching death barrel closer in slow motion.
The car swerved violently away from me, veering off the road. It teetered for one heart-stopping moment at the edge of the steep embankment, rocks, and dirt crumbling beneath its tires.
My feet were rooted to the spot, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and throat. My body refused to move.
You should run. Run away, now.
But I didn’t.
The car groaned, metal straining, the whole frame trembling like it knew it wasn’t meant to stay perched there much longer.
My heart was pounding in my ears. Call for help. Stay safe. Let someone else deal with this.
I took one step forward.
Tia, what are you doing?
Another step.
I could return to Kat’s and pretend I hadn’t seen it. But then I thought—what if no one else comes?
What if he’s hurt? What if he dies and I do nothing?
The thought lodged deep in my chest. I couldn’t live with that.
I knew fear. I’d grown up with it, lived in hospitals with it, watched it in my mother’s eyes every time I so much as coughed. And I wasn’t going to be the girl who stood still when someone needed help.
Tearing off my headphones, I sprinted toward the wreckage with shaky legs and burning lungs. My rational mind screamed to retrieve my phone and call for help, but some deeper instinct propelled me forward.
I reached for the driver door handle, yanking with desperate strength. It resisted, groaning against its bent frame until I threw my full weight backward. The door gave way with a metallic shriek.
“Sorry, I know this probably hurts, but you have to move, okay? Please.” Wow, I sounded way calmer than I felt.
