29. Danger
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
danger
I should have tried harder to stop her. All it would’ve taken was a sentence. A few words said at the right time.
But I don’t say anything.
I stand there like a prick and let her look at me like I am exactly what I always thought—someone who ruins anything good.
Maybe she needed to see it. Maybe she needed an ending that didn’t leave room for hope.
So, when she stared at me through the windshield, eyes red and breaking, I let the silence do the damage.
Rylee is still in my head, a constant reminder of what happened the last time I let myself believe I could have something good.
So I let Winnie fill in the blanks. Let her walk away.
Give her an easy out instead of the mess I’d drag her into if this kept going down the path it was on.
If she hurts now, she won’t hurt later.
She deserves this out.
Gravel spits under her tires as she pulls away like the ground can’t get her far enough from me fast enough.
“Winnie—” I yell, but she’s already too far.
My body locks up. I watch her taillights disappear down the road and tell myself this is for the best. That putting someone first sometimes looks like letting them go. That sometimes you have to hurt them to set them free.
“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair.
I have to go after her.
I don’t even remember when I grabbed my keys.
I’m in my truck, tires biting into dirt as I tear after her.
I’m going over one hundred. She shouldn’t even be driving in this direction.
This close to Kennedy land, a quarter mile from their fence.
She rounds the next bend, and for a second her brake lights flare.
I see the swerve before I hear the tires.
Her car crests the bend ahead of me. Then it jerks.
Hard.
“What the fuck. No?—”
My stomach drops out completely.
Time stretches as I watch her lose control.
The impact is deafening.
Metal screams. Glass bursts. Her car slams into the tree with a sound that can’t be fucking real.
The world stops moving but my body doesn’t.
I don’t stop the truck, just abandon it. I’m running, boots pounding dirt, lungs burning, her name ripping out of my chest like a prayer I don’t deserve.
“Winnie!”
Her car is folded around the tree, steam hissing from the hood. The windshield is shattered. The driver’s side is crushed.
She’s not moving. Head slumped against the wheel, hair splayed out over the airbag. The door is crumpled inward, metal locking her in.
I try the handle, but it’s stuck solid. I back up, pull my shirt off, wrap it around my fist. There’s a hot wind building from under the hood, and the engine’s hissing, fluids pouring out. I catch the first hint of flame.
I drive my fist into the glass and it gives on the first hit, showering my arm in blood. I don’t feel the cuts. All I feel is the heat, the urgency, the terror of not getting her out in time.
“Win—hey. Hey! Look at me,” I choke, reaching for her, for anything. “Please. Please, baby.”
This is my fault.
All of it.
If I would of said fucking anything… If I hadn’t thought I knew what was best for her…
She’s deadweight, limp, but lighter than I remember.
“Stay with me,” I beg. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Don’t you fucking dare do this.”
The door finally gives, and I drop to my knees beside her, shaking so hard I can barely touch her.
There’s a sound behind me—brakes squealing. Then a voice: “Danger! What the hell happened?” Charming yells.
“It’s Winnie. Call the sheriff,” I demand, not looking away from her. She’s got a gash on her head, and her lips are going blue. The seatbelts got her locked in. I tear at it with my bare hands but it doesn’t budge.
Fire is hitting the base of the windshield now, popping and crackling. I can taste the smoke, and somewhere at the edge of my mind is the memory of my father lighting up the living room with a single match. Mama screaming as the couch went up in flames.
I am not him. I will not let her die like this.
I fumble under the dash, fingers scraping for the release I remember from fixing this car. There—a lever. I yank it and the steering wheel jumps, giving me another two inches. I twist her body, careful as I can, and her arm flops over mine.
The ambulance sirens echo down the valley, still too far but moving fast. I drag her up and out.
She comes loose with a ripping sound, half the fabric from her outfit is left behind.
The flames flare with a whoosh that peels the paint right off the hood.
I take her far enough away from the car, holding her in the grass with my bloody hands.
She doesn’t make a sound. I hate the world for taking it from her.
I hold her face. “Winnie, c’mon. Don’t fucking do this. Wake up.” I can’t tell if I’m begging or yelling.
Charming’s at my side. “EMTs are almost here, Danger. You got her, man. She’s breathing. Look—she’s breathing.”
He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
I press my forehead to hers, just for a second, hoping she knows that if she comes back, she’s not alone.
The ambulance roars up, blue strobes washing everything in emergency colors. They’re on her before I even hear them get out—two paramedics, latex hands.
“What’s her name?” one asks, already checking her pulse.
“Winnie. Winnie Hawthorne.” My voice comes out in pieces.
“Sir, you’re bleeding,” the other one says, but I shake my head.
“No—fuck that. Just help her.”
They work quickly, wrapping her head, getting her on a stretcher.
“I’m coming with,” I say, not asking permission.
And then I hear it. A whistle behind me, and wouldn’t you know… it’s the Kennedy’s latest rodeo clown. The fucker who’s knee I broke. I can tell from his posture that he’s probably all wrapped up under his jeans.
“Yikes. That hunk of junk I've been seeing around town finally shit the bed, huh? Guess it was about time.”
My blood pressure spikes. I fixed that car myself. It was safe—for once. Checked every hose, every line. There’s no way something would’ve gone wrong unless?—
Unless someone else fucked with it.
My brain doesn’t even bother to tell my body what to do next. I’m charging at him. His cockiness evaporates as I close the distance.
I hit him in his chest. He slams back into the side of his truck. “You do this?”
He tries to push me off, but I’m not moving, focusing every ounce of my rage on his windpipe.
“Back off, Danger. Don’t make this worse,” he hisses.
Too late.
Rogue and Charming are suddenly at my side, trying to peel me away. “He’s not worth it, man! Not now!” It’s Charming’s voice, panicked.
I twist free, grab the fucker by the collar, slam him into the truck again. “Did you do this?”
My vision tunnels, everything else fading into black at the edges.
Copper grins, like he has nothing left to lose. “You done figuring out who you’re fucking with yet?” he sneers.
I break his nose with my bloodied fist.
He recovers faster than I expect, brings his good knee up hard into my thigh. We spin, cursing and clawing. I don’t even realize I’ve drawn my gun until Rogue yells.
“Danger, no!”
But I’m staring down at the barrel. The safety’s already off.
“Put it down, man. Please,” Charming says. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
The same look he used to get when we were kids—when things went sideways and I told them to hide. When I smiled like I wasn’t about to go face the monster. Like somehow he always knew I was lying. Knew I was already deciding to take the hit from our father so they wouldn’t have to.
I lower the gun.
Months ago, I would have pulled the trigger without blinking. Now I know exactly what I'll lose if I don't get away with it this time. Not just Fisher. Her.
So I have to be smarter about how I deal with him.
Copper staggers back, wiping blood from his face.
“This is not how this ends,” I tell him. “You’ll pay for this. You hear me?”
A siren wails—too far away now. Fading. Red lights disappear down the road, taking something with them I don’t know how to survive without.
Then, the ambulance is gone.