Chapter 33 The Prophecy
THE PROPHECY
DAMON
“He better not scratch the leather, Sage.” I curl my fingers around the steering wheel as I stare into the rearview mirror, glaring at Bones. “And look, he’s shedding everywhere. You told me he doesn’t shed.”
Sage rolls her eyes. “If you’re going to bitch and whine the entire drive just drop us off here and we’ll take a cab.”
“I am not bitching.” I cast her a scowl. “I am stating concerns and facts.”
“Yeah?” She lifts a brow. “Should I start stating facts too?” She cocks her head, gaze flitting around my face. “Nice black eye, Damon.”
My muscles clam up as we hit traffic. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Well, we’ve barely left the city, and we’ve got a ways to go before we hit Jersey.
We’re going to have to talk about something.
” Sage unwraps a pastry bag and removes a flaky croissant.
She takes a bite, keeping her defiant eyes glued to mine.
My lip twitches as crumbs rain down on her lap and floor. “Mmm…delicious.”
My jaw tenses. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t allow food in my vehicle.”
“You have too many rules, Damon.” She takes another bite, ignoring me. “No food in my car, no dogs in my car, no talking about Emery. No talking about Quin. No talking about the fact I used you—”
“I didn’t use you.” I regret chiming in as soon as the words come out.
Sage whips her head at me. “You didn’t use me?” She snorts. “Seriously? Then what would you call that, hmm? You could’ve introduced me as your friend, Damon, which is what I am, but instead, you made me out to be…a whore, quite frankly.”
I swallow. “I didn’t plan on—”
“No, you didn’t. Because you don’t plan, Damon.
You make stupid rash decisions on a whim, and then complain that things don’t go your way.
” Sage crosses her arms. “I don’t understand why you had to go and make things worse.
You left them, wasn’t that enough? Why did you have to lie about the reason? ”
Guilt settles on my shoulders. “Because she’ll hate me now.”
Sage blinks. “And you want that? You want Emery to hate you?”
“Yes.”
Sage throws her head back and sighs. “Jeez, you’re so messed up, kid.”
I glower at her. “Don’t call me kid.”
“Why not? Isn’t what you did rather adolescent? Childish?”
I draw up my guard. I wanted her to be honest with me, but now that she’s unfiltered, I much prefer the artificial understanding.
“It’s done, Sage. Nothing I can do now.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, returning to her croissant. “But if I get attacked in the middle of the street by an angry pregnant lady, you’re paying the hospital bills.”
We approach a red light, and I let my gaze float to the red minivan idling beside me.
The windows are rolled down, and I can hear bits and pieces of the cartoon playing on the built-in screens from the back seats.
My gut twists as I study the three little boys.
They can’t be more than a year apart from each other.
Two in car seats. One without. All red-haired and laughing.
The youngest of the three meets my longing stare, and he smiles.
A smile so innocent and raw that it hurts to look away.
“And that’s what you walked away from…” Sage's voice trails off.
I snap my livid gaze at her. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I’m serious, Sage. I’m not in the mood.”
She shrugs. “I said nothing.”
“Listen, I don’t need you to understand, okay?
” I aggressively point to the minivan. “Do you see how many adults are in that vehicle? Two. There’s a mom and there’s a dad.
Two people, Sage. There’s only room for two parents.
You know why? Because adding a third is dangerous.
Adding a third can cause problems. A third person could ruin everything. ”
Sage blinks. “I’m pretty sure they make trucks with a middle seat.”
My knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “You know what I mean.”
I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of explaining myself. No one understands. No one understands that fear is stronger than love. No one will admit it, but it’s true. And it’s fear that’s dictating my actions, my words, my thoughts.
It’s always been fear. I’ve accepted that.
I’ve come to terms with the fact I will never beat fear, that I will never be its conqueror.
I’ve thrown the white flag. I’ve admitted defeat.
It’s over and done. She’s safe now. She will always be safe.
And that’s what matters the most. That matters more than my pain, than my regret, than my broken heart.
“It’s green.” Sage nods at the lights. “Maybe if you removed your head out your ass, you’d notice it.”
My nostrils flare. “You are a horrible driving companion.”
She chortles. “You’re the one who offered me a ride. I didn’t ask.”
“It would’ve cost you hundreds in cab fare. Plus, you needed the company.”
“I needed the company?” She tilts her head. “I suppose that’s also why you insisted on taking me grocery shopping the other day. Why you attended my nephew's preschool graduation? Why you randomly show up at my house with bagels? Because I need company?”
My tone doesn’t waver. “Moira is away for two months, so yes, you need the company.”
She snorts. “Right. Well, thank you, Damon, truly. I don’t know what I would do without your company.”
I clear my throat. “You are welcome.”
A ghost of a smile clips her lips. “You’re such a dork, you know that?”
I roll my eyes. “Eat your croissant.”
Sage lifts the croissant to her lips, about to take another bite, when multiple tires screech.
I jolt, slamming on the brakes.
My pulse hammers as the cars ahead of us come to an abrupt stop.
I glance around frantically, squinting into the distance. Immediately, my heart drops to my stomach.
Two lanes over, the red minivan is flipped over in the intersection. Smoke curls up from the hood. My chest tightens, and a wave of terror zaps through my bones.
Quin's voice echoes in my head, as clear as if he were sitting beside me.
“People die, Damon. It’s unfortunate but it happens every fucking day. What are you going to do? Spend the rest of your life hiding? Worried that the next person you look at or touch will somehow magically drop dead?”
My vision swims.
The next person you look at.
The next person.
Dead.
Drop dead.
Sage winces beside me. “Yikes, looks like a bad one.”
Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt.
Sage frowns, reaching out to grab my arm. “Umm, what do you think you’re doing?”
Smoke rises from the minivan, thick and black. I can’t tear my eyes away from it. It’s my fault. Quin was being facetious, he was making it sound like a ridiculous notion, but it’s true. It’s me. I’m the problem. The disease.
Why did the little kid look at me? Why did I look back? Why didn’t I look away?
Guilt coils my chest like a spiteful serpent, squeezing tighter and tighter.
Look what happened. Look what I did.
Ignoring Sage’s pleas, I yank my arm free and tumble out of the car.
My legs move on their own accord as I float toward the accident. The minivan is destroyed, chunks of metal hanging off the bumper by a fucking thread. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline is overwhelming. Deadly. Holding my breath, I circle the car and drop to my knees, peering inside.
The mother is unconscious, slumped over in her seat. The father is barely able to keep his eyes open, barely able to speak, his face bruised and bloodied.
“Help…my boys…”
A spark of electricity zaps from somewhere inside the car.
Shit. There’s no time to think. There’s no time to wait.
I scramble to the back seats, my arms and legs bleeding from the shards broken glass.
The burning smell fills my nostrils, acrid and choking.
I spot the three boys in the back, their faces banged up and pale.
“It’s okay,” I whisper to the three brothers. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Mommy,” one of the boy cries. “I want my mommy.”
Autopilot kicks in, and I unbuckle the first boy from his car seat. My hands shake with anxiety, but I manage to free him and carry him to safety.
The second boy screams as I contort my body to reach him, tears mixing with the grime on his cheeks. I unclip his car seat with trembling fingers, wincing as the jagged metal scratches my forearms.
The third boy doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Barely breathes as I pull him out.
Please be okay. Please live. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
The smell of smoke grows stronger, fire trucks and ambulances wailing in the distance.
“Stay here,” I tell the boys. A group of pedestrians are gathered around the curb, half on their phones recording, the other half frozen. I make eye contact with an older woman. “Watch them. Do you hear me? You watch them.”
She nods slowly, and I rush back to the vehicle, my heart pounding. The parents. They need to live. They need to live for their kids. They can’t die. The kids won’t recover. The kids won’t heal. They’ll never heal.
Please. Don’t die.
I reach the mother first, struggling to pull her from the wreck. The smoke thickens and flames ignite at the edges of the car. No. She’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. They need to live. They can’t die.
Please don’t die.
The woman’s seatbelt is stuck, glass shards are embedded in her skin near her kidney. Yanking frantically on the seatbelt, a sheen of sweat coats my forehead. Goddamn it!
Suddenly, a man appears at my side, a knife in hand. Without a word, without guidance, he slices through the fabric, setting her free. With all our strength, we pull the woman out of the car and drag her toward her three children.
“Thank you,” I cough, my throat burning I attempt to catch my breath.
The man nods, his face grim. “We need to get back. The fire’s getting bigger.” I turn to head back to the dad, but he grabs my arm. “You should wait. The fire department is almost here. It’s too dangerous. It’s—”
Maybe the boys are young enough that they won’t remember.
Maybe they won’t spend the rest of their lives missing their father.
Maybe they’ll grow up with healthy hearts and mended minds.
Maybe they’ll survive because they have each other.
Because they’ll have their mom. But there’s a chance this day could change the course of their lives.
There’s a chance this moment, this snapshot in history, will forever alter how they live, how they love, how they forgive.
Everything.
No. He needs to survive.
They all deserve to survive.
Rushing back to the vehicle, I gasp, my lungs burning with each hacking cough. The blistering heat from the fire scorches my hands and face, but I push through the agony. Desperately, I fumble with the dad’s seatbelt, my fingers raw and trembling.
Finally, I unclick it and link my arms around him.
Our eyes meet, and in that split second, before the world ceases to exist, I see my own father, my mother, my sister. I see Alison.
And then a deafening explosion erupts, and I see nothing.