My heart’s racing.This isn’t right.Not when we file in, find our seats, and his remains empty.
Not after listening to speech after speech about how bright our futures look, and his seat’s still empty.
I twist in my chair, searching.Then I’m standing before it’s time for our row to be called to the stage.Not because Jonathan has finally arrived.But because Hal Reeves is four rows back on the end, beside his wife and youngest son.He notices me staring at him and tilts his head, as if taunting me, a twitch of his lips daring me.
Collin is standing too.We connect across the crowd.There’s a stir of murmurs when I slip out of my row, squeezing past my classmates.I kick off my shoes and sprint down the center aisle, my cap flying off my head, my gown fluttering behind me.
Collin races beside me to the parking lot, to where I parked in the back row when I arrived with the girls.
“Do you have your keys?”he’s asking, panting.
I yank the gown over my head and unzip the purse hanging across my chest.My hands are clumsy.I can’t find my breath.I can’t grasp the zipper.
Collin takes hold of my shoulders.I look into his hazel eyes through tears of panic.
“Breathe, Sadie.In.Out.Breathe.”
I nod, hearing Jonathan’s voice in my head.“Nice and easy.”And I focus on slow breaths until everything comes back into focus.
I unzip my bag and pull out the keys.
Collin extends his hand.“Want me to drive?”
“Get in the car,” I order, unlocking the doors and strapping into the driver’s seat.As much as it pains me, I ease out of the parking lot and pull onto the main street, driving carefully.Every cop in Hollis is here.
As soon as they disappear in the rearview mirror, my foot presses down on the gas pedal.Collin holds on to the handle above the door with one hand, and the other has his phone to his ear.He hangs up and calls again when he gets the robotic recording.Jonathan never personalized it.
We don’t speak.We can’t.There’s nothing to say.
“There!”Collin shouts, pointing to the other side of the road.
I almost pass the dark blue pickup, hidden in the trees.Smoke rises from the engine—that’s what caught Collin’s attention.
I pull over.And sprint across the street.No one comes or goes.The air feels as still as the forest.Silent and foreboding—like it knows what’s waiting for me.
The truck’s front bumper has careened into a tree.The damage is minimal.But it’s no longer running.The tick of the cooling engine feels like a timer counting down.
Collin opens the driver’s-side door.I cry out.“Jonathan!”
A tree has pinned the passenger side shut, so I step up into the cab on the driver’s side and lean over his slumped body.He’s sprawled across the seat.His head’s resting on the passenger side.I can’t see his face clearly.
“Jonathan.”I reach for him, jostling his shoulder.He doesn’t respond.
I maneuver over his legs and the gearshift to the passenger side, gripping the back of the seats for balance, and fold onto the floor in front of him.
“Jonathan?Can you hear me?”Before I reach for his shoulder to try to rouse him again, I notice the blood dripping onto my thigh.I lift the hand I set on the seat, and it’s covered red.
“Call an ambulance!”I scream.
I carefully reposition his left arm, which lies across his body, searching for the wound.A purple blossom of blood stains his blue shirt along his right side, the material sticking to his skin.There’s a slit in his shirt under his ribs.I try to apply pressure with my hand to slow the bleeding, but I can’t do it properly at this angle.His large body is too heavy.And I’m afraid to move him.
I search the cab and find his suit jacket on the seat above his head.Something falls to the floor as I grab it and roll it tight.I stuff it under his side and press as hard as I can.
He doesn’t move.
His face is pale.
His beautiful eyes remain closed.
