Chapter 12
12
Leah
Tutoring at the Youth Arts Center goes late, but Brody, my bodyguard, doesn’t seem annoyed by the delay. I’m in constant awe of all my bodyguards’ levels of patience. They’re ready for whatever, at a moment’s notice. It’s impressive.
I say goodbye to my students and give Olivia a quick hug.
“You’re really fitting in here,” she says, holding on for an extra squeeze. “I’m so glad you joined us, Leah.”
“Me, too.” I look across the wide-open room, at the different stations where students can do art, study, or even have a snack. “You’ve created something amazing, and I’m so proud to be a part of it.”
Her eyes and mine are a little teary as I walk outside, Brody just behind me.
The parking lot is quiet, not too many cars around. Streetlights illuminate the space, making the cars shine. Brody’s blue eyes scan the area, watching for anyone or anything that seems out of place. We haven’t seen anyone following me since that last time at the library. It probably wasn’t anything nefarious, and I’m still embarrassed for my panic at the time.
Better safe than sorry, though. I might have complained about having a bodyguard, but something’s in the air tonight. It has my instincts prickling with awareness.
Brody leads us to the car. I hop in the passenger seat—I refuse to sit in the back. Brody gets behind the wheel. He looks over. “Where to?”
“Home.” I’m exhausted on a bone-deep level. I don’t want to fight with Gage. I want to talk to him. I want to tell him, in person, that if forever can exist at all for me, it’s with him and Dmitri. And I’ll tell him even if I have to tie him up with those silk scarves and force a conversation.
I smile to myself at the idea. Gage, restrained and at my mercy? Ha. I’m so frustrated with him right now, there’s a certain appeal to the mental image. I wonder how he would handle nipple clamps, and I have to fight off a giggle.
Brody starts us toward Caro, but slows at the sight of what looks like a billion brake lights. He scrubs a hand over his whiskers. “That’s not a good option today. We’ll be boxed in immediately. Detour?”
“Detour.” I take out my phone to check in with Dmitri before he starts his shift at Low Vice.
I missed a call from Gage. He left a voicemail.
I stare at my screen for far too long before finally tapping the button to listen to his message.
“Leah.” Gage’s voice sounds raw, broken by a thousand emotions. “I’m sorry. I’ll say more when I see you. Call me as soon as you can. I’m coming home. I—I’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed you, too .
While Brody navigates us away from the traffic, I listen to the message a second time, soaking in Gage’s words, his tone. The regret I hear in his apology. He truly means it. That doesn’t mean he’s off the hook—I need an explanation. If he doesn’t want to tell me everything, that’s fine. But I need something. Every time he ignored me, I felt my soul shrinking.
“Fuck,” Brody says, finding the next street blocked. He grimaces at me. “Sorry for the language.”
“Not a problem.” I squint against the sea of red brake lights. “More traffic?”
“Everyone had the same idea as us.”
Normally, I’d suggest we wait, but I want to get home. I need to see Gage. He’s finally ready to talk, and every minute away from him physically pains me. “What about going back, then around the Rossi Nature Preserve?”
“It’s probably almost as slow as this.” He considers the traffic in front of us. “You know what? Screw it, let’s go. At least we won’t be sitting still.”
He maneuvers the car into an empty lot to turn around, pointing us in the opposite direction. Another car seems to have the same idea. Hopefully we came up with the idea early, and we’ll beat anyone else attempting our long-way-around detour.
It takes five minutes to leave the bustle of Dorado Heights and loop around to the deserted back roads of the nature preserve. Street lights are few and far between. Traffic is almost nonexistent—so far, the only other vehicle is the one that turned around before we reached Caro.
I clench my phone in my hand. I need to call Gage back, let him know I’m coming home, that we can fix everything that went wrong. As long as he’s there, as long as he’s finally talking to me, we can solve things.
This route is completely deserted, and we’re traveling along a hillside. The guardrail and the road are the only things visible in the headlights.
I dial Gage. No answer. I guess we’re playing phone tag. This is getting ridiculous. His message service beeps.
I say, “Gage, it’s me. I’m on my way home. I’ve missed you, too.”
Brody’s gaze flicks to the rearview mirror and he frowns. “I don’t like how close they’re following us.”
I need to wrap up the voicemail. This is all a conversation Gage and I should have in person. “I’ll see you soon?—”
Bright lights fill the car suddenly. A loud crash follows.
The impact is jarring, sending us forward.
My phone flies out of my hand.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Brody mutters to himself and jams the gas pedal.
Our engine revs and we pull ahead. I grip the edge of my seat as the car swerves. Fear bands around my chest, pulling everything tight. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.
“It’s going to be okay.” Brody sounds calm, but even I can see the seriousness in his eyes. He’s one of those people that become calmer and more controlled the worse things get. “I’ll get us out of this, no matter what. Tap the call button for me.”
I try to touch the car’s navigation panel, but the car behind rams us again. A chiming alarm sounds over the car’s speakers. Something about impact and course correction before the robotic voice goes silent. The navigation panel goes dark.
The other car has on its brights. They’re blinding. Even through the tinted windows, I bet they can make out our silhouettes. It makes me angry that they can see us but we can’t see them.
A tight curve is coming up.
“I’m going to have to slow down.” Brody’s voice is tight. “Brace yourself, because they’ll hit us again.”
No, no. I can’t. Terror is holding me rigid in my seat. How can I brace myself? Why are they doing this?
We get closer and closer to the curve. Brody eases up on the gas. Dread pulses through my veins.
Bam . It sounds like my skull is being ripped apart as we smash into the guardrail. The flimsy strip of metal and the short wooden braces are no match for the force of our car. We crash past it. The world spins, headlights illuminating trees and ground.
Brody shouts, “Cover your head!”
I try, I really do. But my arms are flailing. I don’t know which way is up. It’s impossible to think, and the force of our movement sends my arms and legs and head this way and that. I’m like a dog toy, shaken back and forth.
More deafening crashes. Our car? But we aren’t moving anymore. I’m upside down. At least, I think I am. I can’t make sense of the world around me. Maybe I’m right-side up, and everything else is wrong.
Everything is wrong.
Lights beyond our car spin like a distorted ferris wheel. A giant shape crunches down the hill after us. The other car.
It slams into ours.
No more light. No more noise. Nothing.
* * *
Gage
Leah should be home soon, unless she’s going to Dmitri’s again. I wouldn’t blame her if she did, but I hope she’ll come home.
I should have called her as soon as she confessed that she was wrong about not believing in us. I’ll make it up to her tonight, if she’ll let me.
I put away my groceries, leaving out the ingredients for tonight’s meal. I arrange the flowers in a vase—a bouquet of Gerbera daisies in a variety of colors.
I touch a daisy’s hot pink petals. Flowers won’t fix everything, but I think Leah will enjoy the colors and the thought behind them.
To make the ramen, I’ll need my phone for the recipe. As soon as I pull it from my pocket, a notification glares at me from the screen, accusatory. I missed yet another one of Leah’s calls. This time wasn’t on purpose, but after my behavior the past couple days, I feel worse.
I immediately call her back, because I only missed her by a few minutes. She might see my call. But she doesn’t pick up.
With a sigh, I let the call go to her voicemail and leave a message. “Leah, I’m sorry I didn’t see your call. I’m not avoiding you, I promise. Homemade ramen is in progress so we can eat when you get home. We’ll talk. I love you.”
I wash the mushrooms, then start slicing while I switch over to the voicemail Leah left me. My heart warms at the sound of her voice. “Gage, it’s me. I’m on my way home.” Someone’s talking in the background—her bodyguard, perhaps. She continues, “I’ve missed you, too. I’ll see you soon?—”
Her words break off with a resounding crash. The loud sound fills my empty kitchen, like metal on metal. I set down my knife and look at my phone. The recording is still going.
A man’s voice. I can only pick out a few words. “…get us out of this…what.” And unintelligible sounds, conversations. The tone is strained, though. “Brace yourself?—”
Something went terribly wrong.
The man shouts, “Cover your head, cover your head?—”
And then…silence.