"We should keep moving," I murmured. "Before you stiffen up."
"Romantic."
"Practical, wouldn’t want to carry you home."
"You think you could?"
"Impossible, though I’d try." I kissed him once more, quick and light, then stepped back. "Come on, old man. Let's see what you've got."
We picked up the pace again, settling into an easy rhythm. The path curved along the river, the water glinting silver in the early light. No other runners, no cyclists, no one but us and the birdsong and the quiet morning world.
The morning was so beautiful, and the thought came to my head, how I would’ve wished to spend time with Miles like this, and now I was here. With him.
"Okay, hotshot," I said, picking up my pace slightly, pulling half a step ahead. "Race you to the big oak."
"You're going to lose."
"Doubtful."
"I've been sandbagging this whole time."
"Sure you have."
A real, full smile broke across his face. It transformed him, erasing years of worry and pain, leaving behind the ghost of the boy I'd fallen in love with under an oak tree fifteen years ago.
"You're on," he said.
He surged forward, pulling even with me. For a moment, we were side by side, matched stride for stride, both of us grinning like idiots. The cold air burned my lungs in the best way. The world felt infinite and possible.
Then Miles turned his head to look at me, his smile brilliant, his hazel eyes lit with pure, triumphant mischief.
"Still slow!" he called over his shoulder, starting to pull ahead.
That's when I saw it.
It came from the cross street to our right, a silver blur ignoring the stop sign entirely, moving too fast. The driver's head was tilted down, a pale glow illuminating their face.
Time didn't slow down. It fractured.
"MILES!"
The scream tore out of me, raw and primal. His smile vanished. His head started to turn toward the street, his body beginning to pivot.
"What—"
The impact stole the rest of his words.
The sound was the worst thing I'd ever heard, a sickening thud of metal meeting flesh and bone at speed. Not a dramatic crash. A brutal, simple punctuation to that morning.
His body was flung sideways, a ragdoll with no strings, hitting the hood with a crumpling impact before sliding off to land on the pavement with a dreadful, lifeless stillness.
"No." The word was a whisper, a denial to the universe. "No, no, no, no!!"
My legs were moving before my brain caught up. Running, but it felt like wading through concrete, like the air had turned to syrup.
"MILES!"
I reached him, skidding to my knees on the rough pavement. It bit through my running tights. I didn't feel it. All sensation was concentrated in my eyes, witnessing the horror before me.
