Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Breaking glass. Pain, so much fucking pain, everything dizzy and weird after that.
“I came to after a little while,” I say, whispering now. Fiona’s not moving at all, barely breathing. “Tracy was gone. The windshield was shattered. I kept thinking she was okay, right? She got out before I did. That must’ve been good. But her door wasn’t open. I couldn’t understand why until I got out. I was bleeding. I had a broken arm. But she was there in the street, maybe fifty feet away. Just a shape in the darkness. I followed the trail of blood until I found her with gravel in her wound, her face a scraped-up wreck. I’ll never forget it. The cops say she probably died on impact. They don’t think she suffered. I figure they’re right. I’m not even sure she ever woke up.”
I stop talking. I have to focus on my breathing to keep myself calm. Four seconds in. Four seconds hold. Six seconds out. Repeat until my heart’s not beating so hard it feels like it’ll break.
“A drunk driver,” she says, looking up at me. “God, Gareth. I’m so sorry.”
“She died because she didn’t have her seatbelt on. As simple as that. She was thrown through the windshield, and she died. I survived because I wore mine.”
“That’s why you do it. I can totally understand.”
“It’s worse than that. Tracy’s why I don’t get close. When she died… it fucked me up. I was a wreck my first year at Blackwoods. I barely even remember it. The other guys, my brothers from Atlas, they brought me out of my depression. Dragged me back to the world. But ever since Tracy, I haven’t trusted myself with anyone. I was too weak to wake her up, too worried about upsetting her to insist that she wear her seatbelt. I swore I’d never be like that again. No more weakness. But also, no more distraction. No more liabilities.”
She touches my cheek. I hold her hand there. Tears are in her eyes. Tears for a girl she never met. But she would’ve liked Tracy—my ex-girlfriend was an athlete. Strong and determined. I bet she would’ve gotten along with Fiona. I could even see them being good friends.
“You were a kid,” she says. “It was so long ago. You really still carry it with you?”
“Every day. I don’t forget.”
“You don’t need to keep doing that to yourself.”
“I’ve done therapy. I meditate. I have breathing exercises that help. It’s not killing me, not anymore. But I also know I can’t bring myself to ever get close like that again.”
She bites her lip, turning away. “That’s why you keep pulling back.”
“That’s why I paid off your loans,” I whisper. “To give you a chance.”
“Gareth—”
“I’m not ending things,” I say, pulling her chin back toward me. “You’re probably thinking that, but I’m not. I told you because I want you to know who I am. Tracy is a part of me. She’s part of my story, even if she’s gone.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I’m happy you could share with me.”
We lapse into silence. I’m back in the accident. Back in the worst moment of my life. But this time, I have Fiona in my arms, and I hold her tight against my chest. I’m unsure what telling her will change—probably nothing.
Fiona still has no future with me. I’ll only drag her down, like I’ve dragged everyone down. I’m too selfish, too damaged.
But if she can find something too out of all this, if I can do something small to help make her life better, then I’ll do it.
Pay her loans. Find her a dream job.
Make her time with me worth something.
That’s all I can do.
Chapter 35
Fiona
We spend the night talking. Then having sex. Then talking some more. I tell him about my parents, about Cait. I share insecurities and secrets with him, things I hate talking about with anyone.
I end up falling asleep in his arms. The sound of a car crash ringing in my ears. The sound of an event nearly twenty years ago, reverberating up through time, still changing the present.
“Sleep in,” he whispers as sunlight streams in through the windows. I’m groggy, cuddled around a pillow. “I’ll be back later.”
“’Kay,” I mumble and watch him go. It’s a little past seven in the morning. How can that man stay up fucking me half the night and still drag himself out of bed for work?
I sleep another few hours. When I finally get up, I shower, make coffee, and sit in the living room sipping from my mug, admiring the new climbing shoes he bought me. They’re not broken in yet, but they will be soon enough. I turn to the window, smiling to myself.
So much about him makes sense. Born poor, raised with not much. That’s why he’s so driven to succeed. Went through the death of a girlfriend in a horrified car accident. That’s why he’s so distant. The fact that I’ve breached past his defenses enough to catch a glimpse of the man he keeps hidden from the world says a lot about where our relationship’s been heading.