“And you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He spoke the words in monotone, almost on autopilot. He didn’t even glance my way. Words didn’t mean crap if actions didn’t accompany them.
“Don’t you think her threats should be reported to the police?” I questioned, evading his last statement.
“No,” he claimed. “That would break Kai.”
My shoulders slumped. His son had endured more than anyteenager should, but pretending his mother wasn’t dangerous wasn’t helping anyone. She had gone beyond the boundaries of sanity and was now a threat to all of our safety.
And then there was the fact that I was beginning to feel like a third wheel. I deserved more and wanted to feel peace, like I did before Jonathan entered my life.
Instead, every time I thought we’d all moved on, she’d strike again. But as of late, it’d gotten so much worse, and I was at the end of my rope. I’d begun to question my sanity and life choices, and the constant chaos left me wantingout.
The two of us had reunited during my visit to Croatia with my cousin Kristoff, and then we spent two years getting to know each other all over again. Two years of chances for our love to grow and for us to move on from the past. Yet, our past—well,hisif we were being honest—just kept haunting us.
“Jonathan, I love you. I really do, but all this is too?—”
“Don’t, Soph?—”
His words were cut short as another car’s headlights beamed against the rearview mirror, blinding him.
Jonathan swerved and then everything seemed to happen in a blink.
A sudden impact snapped my body forward. Metal screamed. Glass burst into a thousand bright wounds. The world went weightless as the car slammed into the guardrail, tipped, and rolled once, twice, before crashing upside down with a bone-shaking thud.
Then there was silence, heavy and wrong, buzzing in my ears, drowning out everything else.
My body ached so bad that I couldn’t even draw a single breath without pain. The air tasted like smoke and copper. My seat belt bit into my shoulder, pain blooming sharp and hot.
Wet fingers brushed against mine.
Jonathan.
His hand found mine, fingers slick with blood, and I squeezed them weakly.
“I’m here,” he rasped. “Soph… I’m here.”
I let out a strangled sound that sounded like a mixture of a laughand a sob. My forehead was pressed against the shattered window. Rain poured in, soaking my hair, my clothes, our joined hands. I squinted and realized we’d made it onto the bridge after all. The bridge that was now destroyed, just like my Jeep Cherokee. It creaked, settling, but didn’t tip over the edge. Somehow, impossibly, we had survived.
Then the sound of a car door slamming registered, followed by footsteps approaching.
I turned my head just enough to see a pair of cowboy boots stop, planted on the wet pavement beside the wreck. Water streamed around them, carrying oil, our blood, and broken glass toward the edge of the bridge.
“Help,” I called out, my voice cracking.
“Please—” Jonathan’s voice cracked. “My girlfriend’s hurt. C-call an ambulance.”
There was no answer. No movement. Just the sound of an engine humming softly in the distance, meshing with the rain and the rush of the river below.
I started to despair until a gloved hand reached in through the broken window, gripping Jonathan’s arm, and relief surged through me so hard it hurt.
“Thank you, thank you,” I rasped, chanting the words through trembling lips. Tears slipped into my mouth, mixing with the coppery taste of blood, and I realized I must have bit my tongue in the crash.
Pulled free, Jonathan was dragged upright. He staggered once, then steadied. I craned my neck, trying to see his face, trying to smile at him through the pain, but then a gunshot split the air, echoing through the silent night and drowning out the sound of my whimpers.
I screamed just as the second shot followed, scrambling in horror and trying to free myself from the seat belt. The soft click released my restraint at the same time Jonathan’s body fell.
I gasped, staring at his body while my breaths came in short intervals. My brain struggled and failed to catch up with the gravity of the situation.
“What… No, no, no… Jonathan?—”
