Or was it deliberate? Intentional?
A man wearing dark glasses and a cap pulled low drove the SUV. And he looked right at her.
God. She wanted to be sick. She hunched over her belly as a cyclist went down: her. And then, almost in slow motion, theentire pack of cyclists crashed into each other. Propelled into a vicious tangle of metal and limbs and pain.
The SUV hovered for a moment—checking he’d got her?—and then took off. The dashcam driver pulled over, someone’s voice babbled; high-pitched and panicked, calling 999. People shouted and groaned. But Ellie hardly heard it.
Their car was parked at an angle, the dashcam perfectly positioned to showher. Her long-sleeved purple cycling jersey was torn and covered in mud. Her biking tights were shredded and soaked with blood.
She was on her front, reaching out to the nearest cyclist. His hair was matted with blood. His helmet had torn off in the crash.
She pulled herself closer, put out her hand, and just for a moment, their eyes met. And sheremembered. Clear blue eyes, bracketed by tiny lines, intense and focused utterly on her.
Josh.
Her lips moved, mouthing the words, even as she saw them move on the screen. “Don’t leave me.”
His eyes fluttered closed on the recording, and she was filled with the same horror as on that awful day; the terror that he would die there on that broken road.
She watched herself take his hand. And she remembered begging. “Stay. Please. God. Please stay.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josh grippedthe railing on Ellie’s deck, letting his head drop as the shadows over the forest thickened and darkened into night.
He was JoshTaylor. He remembered his name. He remembered…
Living in Scotland, far from everything. And everyone. But then the call came from home, and he’d left his job. He’d taken a long sabbatical and traveled all the way back down to Dorset. Back to the village where he grew up, about twenty miles inland from Ellie’s cottage.
His mother was worried. And when his mum—the woman who’d raised him and Liam by herself, who’d loved them, cared for them, and hauled their small family out of the rough council block they’d lived in and all the way to a neat little semi-detached home in a pretty village—was worried, Josh dropped everything.
Liam had fallen into a crowd she didn’t like. He’d abandoned his dreams of becoming a sports physiotherapist. Ignored his years of education—that Josh had paid for—choosing instead to stay at home and trade stock from his laptop. Liam was spending his days playing football with the lads, and his evenings turning himself into some kind of rich-kid-wannabe; spending money hedidn’t have on flashy cars, designer suits, and enough overpriced alcohol to leave him utterly useless most mornings. And he took every chance to pressure their mum to invest in things she didn’t know enough about—but then he never seemed able to give her the details when she asked for them.
When Josh arrived home, Liam had seemed glad to see him. Only too happy to have him around the house, taking their mum out, helping with chores. And he’d promised that he was doing well. His career was taking off. He’d hit a slight snag on an investment he’d made, but it didn’t matter because he had a way to make it all back. All he had to do was help his good friend Warren out with something easy, and then he’d be back on top.
Josh had been home for about a week when he asked Liam to come over to help with some work in the garden. But Liam couldn’t make it… he was going out for a cycle ride with the local club.
It had irritated Josh immensely. Liam was yet again unavailable to do chores, blowing them off to head out with his friends instead. And Liam knew how much Josh loved mountain biking. It was part of why he’d taken the secondment to Scotland.
Of course, the main reason he’d gone so far away was that after decades of taking care of everyone—especially Liam—and battling with everyone—especially Liam—Josh had wanted to go somewhere with as few people as humanly possible.
He’d wanted a break from being responsible for everyone else. A break from the constant churn of work and more work, broken only by a string of meaningless one-night stands. He’d reached a point where he knew he didn’t want more than one night but didn’t want so little either. Getting away had seemed ideal.
But then his mother had called, and he’d put all his things in storage and gone back to stay with her. And then Liam hadplanned to go cycling while Josh stayed at home and pulled weeds.
No. He wasn’t having it. He’d insisted that he join the ride, and Liam could come back with him to help with chores afterward. He hadn’t given Liam the option of refusing. He’d borrowed some gear from a friend and met his cranky brother at the start of the ride.
It was a club Josh didn’t know. Liam had signed up only the week before and—under duress—brought him along as a guest. They didn’t bother to sign him in, Liam signed in for both of them. He was an unnamed guest, riding a friend’s bicycle, wearing an ancient helmet.
And Josh certainly wasn’t supposed to see Liam checking the names on the sign-in list, or the quick thumbs-up he gave to the SUV parked across the road.
But he had seen it. And he’d recognized the car immediately when it drew up behind him. And he’d known something was very, very wrong when Liam fell back, encouraging the other riders back, and let one particular cyclist—Ellie—go ahead.
Fuck. Darkness swirled at the edges of his vision, and he gripped the rail even tighter, letting the wood cut into his hands. Using the pain.
He’d sped up. He’d tried to reach her. Legs pumping, chest burning. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know what Liam wanted with her. But he’d known it was wrong.
But he couldn’t get there in time. He couldn’t match the speed of the accelerating SUV. He’d watched the front bumper hit her, watched her flying over her handlebars, through the air, heard the sickening crunch.
