“I didn’t know!” I press the gas on the green light. “I didn’t know until it was too late and then he hadn’t done it for years until today. I thought he wouldn’t anymore. I thought he’d stopped. . .”
“Oh my God,” she says, her voice catching. “Oh my God, Lyla.”
“It’s fine. It won’t happen again.” I look left and right at the next stop sign and drive forward.
“You should have told me!”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me.” I bite my lip to keep from crying. “I didn’t think anyone would.”
“Lyla James!” she shouts, still crying. “Of course, I would have believed you!” She remains silent for a moment. “Who does this asshole think he is?” she yells. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Keep driving to the precinct. I’m calling the cops right now so they’ll expect us when we get there.”
She starts to rummage through her purse for the phone. “Fuck,” she screams. “Stupid piece of shit. I can’t believe we trusted him. I can’t believe. . .”
Through the rearview, I see a familiar red sports car approach and start to panic, my hands shaking again. He’s still at least two blocks back. There’s no way he’ll catch up. Just in case, I swerve right and drive toward the two-lane street the cops are always at. If I can get one behind me, we’ll be safe. Please, please, please pull me over. I chant that in my head as if they’ll hear me.
“Mom! Focus!” I move up in my seat as my eyes bounce between the rearview mirror and the desolate street ahead. He’s getting closer. “Fuck. MOM FOCUS!”
“I can’t find my phone!” She looks around, starts searching between the seats. “Goddamnit.” She takes off her seatbelt and reaches back.
His car appears behind ours. I speed up. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. His car is much faster than Mom’s SUV. Much faster. The shiny red car speeds up, almost hitting our bumper. There’s dirt and rows of trees to our right. I try to figure out how I’d turn the wheel without losing control, if it comes to that. God, I hope it doesn’t come to that. The SUV is an off-road vehicle. I remind myself of that. It was one of their big selling points. Off-road. We’ll be fine. A tap from on the bumper moves us forward in our seats.
Mom and I share a horrified look.
“Mom!” I snap. “The phone!”
“Shit!” She keeps reaching. “I got it. I got it!”
The car swerves and hits the bumper of our car on the left side. I speed up. Please please please please, let us be okay. We’re only blocks away from the police station, so close I can see it. Mom should’ve called from home, but instead, she grabbed one of Dad’s autographed bats and swung it. It was the right call. It was the only call. A sob rakes through me as I recall the look in her eyes, but I breathe through it. I can’t afford to lose my shit right now. I floor it, eyes forward. When he hits us again, it’s no longer a warning tap. He completely slams into the car, hitting it at an angle that makes us spin out of control once. We scream loudly. I slam on the breaks and steady the car, flooring it again. He hits us hard again. This time, the car spins once, twice, and on the third, we slam into an oak tree head-on. The air whooshes out of me as I press against my seatbelt. The airbag slams into me, pushing me back with force. I hear my mom scream. I hear bones snap. I know it’s bones because it’s the same sound a teammate’s knee made recently. Glass breaks, but I still haven’t been able to take a breath, let alone open my eyes. I think I pass out. Or maybe I’m in shock. It’s hard to blink, or move, or even speak.
“Mom?” I say as loud as I can when I finally find my voice.
“911, what’s your emergency? Hello? 911, what’s your emergency?” The phone is on speaker.
“MOM!” I scream, pushing the airbag off, ignoring the pain that slices through me with each movement. The operator speaks again. I take my seatbelt off and fight with the airbag searching for my mother. The operator speaks again.
“Mom!” I scream when I’m finally able to see her.
She’s slumped forward. I start screaming, crying, and shaking uncontrollably. I say, “Mom!” more times than I ever had in my life, as if that will resuscitate her. I don’t know how I know she’s dead, but I know. When move her head back to assess the damage on her head, I scream louder. There’s a chunk of glass lodged into her left eye, the cut so deep it goes into her skull and cheek. I scream again and again. I can’t stop screaming.
The hospital is a blur. I hear my father wailing in the hall. I repeatedly apologize—to him, to the empty room, to anyone who has come near me, including the nurses. They tell me to get some rest and give me something to help me sleep. I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m terrified I’ll have that dream again. I don’t dream, though. I haven’t dreamed since.
CHAPTER45
LYLA
I watchas Lachlan lowers my phone and looks up at me slowly.
“Fuck, Lyla,” he whispers. “We have to tell the cops.”
I shake my head. That’s the logical thing to do, of course. It’s the first thing Mom thought of doing, the first thing Luke thought of doing. I know better, though. I know going to the cops will only lead to trouble. Last time, it led to death before we even made it to the precinct. This is the first time Lach’s hearing this, so of course, it’s his first thought. I’m sure seeing me lose my shit at my therapist’s office didn’t help. I wait a moment before I speak.
“I’m going to go back to the beginning. My dad was signed with the Mets back in DR, but he moved here when he was eighteen and went to the minors. He started playing in the major leagues, six months later, and that’s when Mom came over. They were both nineteen, and back home, Mom had been studying to be an ophthalmologist, so she enrolled at Fairview to continue.”
I bite my lip, pausing for a moment. Lach sets his hands on mine. “That’s how they met David Jameson.”
Lach’s hands tighten on mine. “No.”
I nod and try to swallow, but it hurts.
