58. Eloise
58
ELOISE
My foot slams on the brakes before my mind can even process what I just witnessed. The tires scream against the asphalt, the seatbelt biting into my chest as my body lurches forward from the sudden stop.
But none of that matters. Because all I can see is Beau’s car teetering on the edge of the bluff, metal crunching and glass shattering.
“No,” I choke out, the word tearing from my throat like broken glass. “No, no, no.”
I’m out of my car in a heartbeat. I don’t even think I turned it off. I sprint toward the edge of the bluff, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. The other car, the one that tried to run me off the road, is crumpled against a tree, steam hissing from its mangled hood. But I don’t spare it a second glance. My entire being is focused on one thing and one thing only: getting to Beau.
Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I race forward, the cool night air burning in my lungs. Moonlight spills across the scene like quicksilver, casting everything in a haunting glow. The closer I get to Beau’s car, the more my stomach twists into knots, dread clawing its way up my throat.
The Hellcat teeters precariously on the edge of the bluff, its front tires hanging over the abyss. The passenger side is crumpled inward, the door caved in like a discarded soda can. Glass litters the ground, glittering like macabre confetti in the moonlight.
And there, slumped over the steering wheel, is Beau.
“Beau!” I scream his name into the night, my voice raw and desperate. “Oh my god, Beau,” my voice breaks on his name.
There’s no response. Just the groan of settling metal and the distant hoot of an owl in the trees. Dread curdles in my stomach like expired milk, and I sprint to the driver’s side.
My hands flutter, and my head is light from adrenaline. I don’t want to do the wrong thing, but fuck me, I need to get him out of the car.
I yank on the driver’s side door handle, desperation making my movements frantic and clumsy. But the door doesn’t budge. The metal frame warped and jammed from the impact. Panic rises in my throat like bile, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs.
“Come on, come on,” I plead, my voice cracking as I pull with all my strength. But it’s no use. The door remains stubbornly shut, trapping Beau inside the mangled wreckage.
Tears blur my vision as I press my face to the cracked window, my breath fogging the glass. “Beau, please wake up.”
A movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention and I whip my head around in time to see the other driver stumbling out of his car by the tree. I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean shit. I don’t know most people in this fucking Gauntlet.
He sways on his feet, one hand braced against the twisted hood. Blood trickles down his temple, black in the moonlight. His eyes are wide and dazed as they dart from his mangled vehicle to the Hellcat.
Rage flares inside me like a match to gasoline. I run toward the other driver, my hands curled into white-knuckled fists at my sides. Gravel crunches beneath my boots, each step measured and seething. He turns to face me fully, his expression morphing from dazed to wary as he takes in my murderous glare.
I curl my fingers into his shirt and drag him with me. “You’re going to help me get him out of the car, or I’m going to push you off the bluff myself. Clear?”
“Wh-what?” He lurches forward a few steps, finding his footing when he reaches the Hellcat.
“The door is stuck, and I can’t lift him out of the window by myself.”
The guy sways a little before shaking his head, like he’s trying to focus on him. “What do you want me to do?”
I get in his face again, enunciating my words. “Get my man out of this car, or I’m going to kill you. Is that clear enough?”
I’ve never uttered such a deplorable thing before, but I’m existing on fear and adrenaline right now. It’s a lethal combination.
The other driver stares at me wide-eyed, blood still trickling down his face. He nods jerkily. “Y-yeah, okay. I’ll help.”
I press my face to the window again, my heart in my throat. “Beau? Can you hear me?”
Still no response. Fear claws at my insides, threatening to drag me under. But I can’t fall apart, not now. Beau needs me.
Smoke curls from underneath the hood, the scent of something burning stinging my senses.
“Hurry,” I urge, my voice strained with desperation.
The driver braces his hands on the frame and heaves upward with all his strength, trying to force the warped metal open. His muscles strain and sweat beads on his brow as he grunts with exertion. I join him, gripping the jagged edges of the door until they dig painfully into my palms.
Together, with a scream of protesting metal, we manage to pry the driver’s side door open just a crack. It’s not much, but it’s enough. I wedge my fingers into the gap and yank, heedless of the way the sharp edges slice into my skin. Blood wells from the cuts, but I barely feel the sting. All that matters is getting to Beau.
With a final heave and a guttural cry, I wrench the door open wide enough to reach inside. “Beau,” I gasp, my hands shaking as I fumble with his seatbelt. “Beau, please wake up. Please be okay.”
His head lolls to the side, a gnarly wound on his forehead.
“Oh, god,” I sob. Leaning over my shoulder, I shout, “Help me get him out!”
As we drag Beau's limp form from the wreckage, a flicker of orange light catches my eye. My head snaps up, and horror slams into me like a physical blow. Tongues of flame lick out from beneath the crumpled hood of the Hellcat, small at first but growing rapidly as they find fuel.
“Fire,” I rasp, my throat raw from smoke and screaming. “We have to move. Now !”
The other driver’s eyes widen as he spots the flames, his face paling beneath the blood and grime. Together, we heave him from the wreckage of the Hellcat just as the metal groans and creaks ominously, the front end still precariously perched over the edge of the bluff. My heart hammers against my ribs as we haul him onto solid ground, closer to my car and away from the fiery twisted metal and shattered glass.
The other driver helps me lower Beau gently onto the gravel, his head cradled in my lap. Moonlight spills over his face, illuminating the unnatural pallor of his skin. His lashes are still against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, but his chest isn’t rising fast enough.
“Call for help,” I bark over my shoulder.
“There’s no service in the park,” the driver mutters.
“Then call the goddamn Gauntlet people! Do something . Please .”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll . . .” he trails off, walking back to his car.
“Goddamn you, Beau.” My voice cracks as I clutch him to me. “You made me fall in love with you.” I stroke his hair back from his brow with shaking fingers.
“You’re not allowed to leave me,” I whisper again, the words trembling as they leave my lips. My tears drip onto his face, leaving glistening trails on his skin.
My breath hitches as I press my forehead to his. “Don’t leave me, Beau,” I plead, the words tumbling out of me in a choked sob.
His body is heavy, limp in my arms, and I shake him gently. “I love you, do you hear me?” I cry, the admission spilling from my lips like a dam breaking, every ounce of fear and desperation behind it. “I love you,” I whisper.
But there’s no response, no flicker of his eyelids or twitch of his hand. Nothing.
The silence around us is deafening, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the crackle of the burning wreckage behind me. The void where his voice should be feels unbearable. I clutch him tighter, the panic clawing up my throat until it feels like I’m choking on it.
“Please,” I whisper, rocking him slightly. My tears fall harder now, splashing onto his shirt, soaking into the fabric as if my sorrow could seep into him and bring him back to me. “Please don’t leave me.”
My sobs shake my entire body, and I let them. I’ve spent my life bottling up every emotion, every fear, every ounce of pain. But now, holding the man I love in my arms, it all comes pouring out in a torrent I can’t control.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “For breaking your heart, for walking away, for not telling you sooner. I’m sorry for every moment we lost, every second I wasted pretending I didn’t need you.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I bury my face against his neck, inhaling the faint scent of him beneath the smoke and oil. “I need you, Beau. Please don’t leave me.”
I press trembling kisses to his temple, his forehead, his jaw. “I love you,” I whisper between each one, the words an incantation, a prayer, a plea. “I love you. I love you.”
Still, there’s no response. His chest rises slowly, pausing before it falls.
“Please,” I sob, my tears soaking into his skin. “Don’t leave me.”
His chest stills for a breath. One endless second. An eternity passes in that moment.
I tip my head back to the inky sky, my tears blurring the pinpricks of stars into shimmering streaks of light. A desperate plea tears from my throat, raw and aching. “Please,” I beg, my voice cracking. “Please don’t take him from me.”
As the desperate plea rips from my throat, a shudder runs through Beau’s body. For a heartbeat, I think it’s just my own trembling transferring to him. But then, like a miracle, his chest expands with a deep, shuddering breath.
The air rushes into his lungs, raising his chest beneath my hands. Another breath follows, and another, in a steady if slow succession.
My own breathing stops, caught in my throat when his eyelashes flutter, dark crescents against his too-pale skin. A low groan escapes his lips, and my heart leaps into my throat.
“Peach?”
“Beau?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
His eyes crack open, those brilliant blue irises hazy and unfocused. He blinks once, twice, before his gaze finally settles on me. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face, even as his brow furrows in confusion.
“Oh, god, Beau.” I choke on a sob.
“Gotta say, baby, usually you’re a lot less clothed when I’m dreaming of you,” he rasps, his voice rough and gravelly.
A strangled laugh bursts from my throat, and to my surprise, I cried even harder. Sobs wrack my body, my breaths coming in choppy pants.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.” Beau’s brow furrows deeper, and he lifts a shaky hand to my face. His fingertips brush my tears away with a gentleness that makes my heart ache. “C’mon down here, Peach, gimme one of those Spider-Man kisses, yeah?”
I let out a watery chuckle, shaking my head even as I lean down, drawn to him like a magnet. I brush my lips against his and whisper. “I love you.”
Beau’s lips curve into a smile beneath mine. “I know, baby. I love you too. Now hurry up and kiss me. We’ve got a race to win.”