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A shudder runs through me. I stop scrubbing, tossing the sponge onto the counter in front of me. It lands with a smack and sends little droplets of water across the smooth stone.

Fuck.

Bracing my hands on the edge of the counter, I take a deep breath. Dalton hasn’t left my side in two days. His constant presence has allowed me to lose myself in something other than memories of that night but now…

Now, I can’t seem to stop them.

My heart pounds in my chest, my hands shaking slightly, as I remember that night. I saw the sedan in the side mirror. Dalton was driving so erratically. My hands hurt from how tightly I was gripping him. And in the beginning, I just closed my eyes, burying my face in his back, and prayed that he would get us back to safety.

And then, he almost put the bike down.

I suck in a stuttered breath.

I can’t even remember if I screamed or not. Maybe all the screaming was just in my head. I don’t know. But he somehow managed to get control of the bike. I vividly remember opening my eyes and glancing back at one point. The bumper of the sedan was right behind the bike, nipping at our heels, and in that moment, I was certain we were going to die.

I still don’t know how we didn’t.

My chest heaves with each breath and tears sting my eyes as the flashes keep coming, taunting me with what could have happened.

Shit.

I need Dalton.

Glancing up at the clock on the living room wall, I let out a hiss. He’s been gone for a while.

My stomach flips.

When we were laying in bed last night, he told me about the plan for the day with Raya. And then he told me that he was going to end this, that Owen wasn’t going to be hanging over our heads anymore.

I don’t know exactly what he meant.

And I’m not sure I want to.

That night, the fear I felt as Owen tried to run us off the road, it changed something for me. As much as I didn’t want anything to do with Owen, I also had no desire to see him hurt. But at this point, I just want Owen to go away and I don’t really care how that happens anymore.

Maybe that makes me a terrible person.

But again, I don’t care.

I have this beautiful life right in front of me and that’s what I want to focus on now.

Owen is my past and that’s where he needs to stay.

Because Dalton is my future.

The sound of a motorcycle drifts into the house, growing louder, and I suck in a breath.

Dalton.

Abandoning the countertop, I round the island and head for the front door. It opens just before I reach it.

“Dalton,” I breathe, drinking him in as he stands in the doorway. He looks fucking exhausted. His hair wet, sweat rolling down the sides of his face. I glance down and wince. His knuckles are split open and bleeding and there is blood on his white t-shirt.

He steps into the house and Jumper struts in behind him, sporting a gnarly black eye. I glance between the two of them.

“What the fuck happened?”

Jumper scoffs, pointing to his eye. “Your man mangled my face.”