Chapter 2
MADISON
Six weeks earlier
Noxious gasoline fumes filled my lungs, strangling the air from my body.
Twisted metal pinned my right arm to my side.
Panicked, I tried to move, but my legs were trapped beneath the dashboard.
Water dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision.
I lifted my left arm and swiped the back of my hand across my face. It came away slick with blood.
This was bad. Really bad.
A groan drew my attention to the driver’s side.
My boyfriend, Jameson, was slumped over to the side, covered in broken glass from the driver’s side window. The bent steering wheel wedged into his ribcage.
It all came back to me.
The fight.
Him swerving as the car picked up speed.
Me trying to grab the wheel, pleading with him to stop.
Then the tree.
Screams ricocheted around me, pounding into my brain.
The screams got louder and louder along with the shrill cadence of a police siren joining the wailing song.
Then there was nothing but a piercing bright white light.
Followed by a pair of silver-gray eyes staring straight through me.
* * *
“Madison! Madison, wake up!”
My body rocked violently forward and back. I stared without seeing and covered my ears to block out the roar of the Jaws of Life.
“Madison, stop!”
A sharp flash of pain stung my cheek and my head jerked to the side.
My pale blue bedspread with its embroidered daisies came into focus.
Then the familiar mismatched bedroom furniture found over countless weekends searching garage sales and thrift stores, and the framed prints of my watercolor flowers.
Gone were the horrific images of that late-night crash, replaced by the shabby but cozy atmosphere of my small bedroom.
Hailey’s hands clutched my upper arms. Her usually styled hair was a mass of unruly spiral curls which bounced with her continued shaking of my body.
Throwing my forearms up, I dislodged her grasp. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”
I caressed my cheek, which still stung. The skin was warm against my palm. “Did you slap me?”
Her voice was unrepentant as she pushed her hair away from her face and secured it in a messy bun on top of her head with a hair tie. “I was worried the neighbors were going to call the cops.” She shrugged. “And that’s what they do in the movies.”
My brow furrowed. “Do me a favor, maybe try cold water or hit me with a pillow next time.”
“If you’re going to make this a regular thing, we should keep a spray bottle on the nightstand. I’ll squirt you like a misbehaving cat.”
It had to still be the middle of the night, though I didn’t know the time. My phone was in the living room. I’d banished it there days ago to escape the endless calls from reporters.
Hailey leaned back against my bedpost. “Still having nightmares about the accident?”
Sitting up, I snatched a pillow from the empty side of the bed and hugged it to my chest. “I feel so stupid and childish. I can’t make them stop.”
Cliffs End was supposed to be a fresh start.
My biological parents lived here once, walked these streets, maybe even sat in the same café where I'd planned my bookstore.
I wanted to build something in the place they'd left behind. Then Jameson’s and my accident happened, and overnight I went from the new girl in town to the girl everyone whispered about.
Surrounded by people and completely alone.
Well, at least not completely alone.
Hailey, my best friend, plopped down on the end of my bed and plucked at a loose string from a daisy petal. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. The funeral was only last week.”
The funeral.
Jameson’s funeral.
Jameson was dead.
No matter how many times I said it out loud or thought it, it didn’t seem real. I kept expecting him to storm through my apartment door, furious about something or other. He was always mad or annoyed at someone…usually me.
The funeral had been awful. All those mourners stroking my arm, telling me what a wonderful man he’d been. With every kind word, every sympathetic look, my skin crawled.
They didn’t know what he was really like. Only Hailey knew the truth.
We'd dated for just a few weeks. It had felt like a life sentence. All I wanted was out of the relationship. Away from his temper, his mood swings, the constant walking on eggshells. I tried to end it that night. He exploded, then insisted on driving me home, yelling the whole way.
His reaction was too overblown, even for him, as if he were raging at someone else entirely and I was just a convenient punching bag.
The medics assumed all of my injuries were from the accident.
I hadn’t seen the point in telling them otherwise.
Jameson was dead. He couldn’t hurt me anymore and correcting their assumption would only make the story more salacious for the circling press.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow caused the accident.
And it wasn’t because I’d upset him over our breakup.
Of that, I was certain.
She leaned forward, hugging her knees. “Did you ever find out who that guy was?”
I played with the soft tag on my pillow.
Twirling the worn satin tag around my finger tighter and tighter until the tip was purple and pulsing with my heartbeat. “What guy?”
I knew what guy she meant.
He was the same man haunting my dreams.
Jameson's face, but not Jameson.
The resemblance ended at the surface. Jameson had been restless, volatile.
The man at the funeral was still. Controlled, in an unsettling way.
Hailey scoffed. “You are a terrible liar. Come on, who was it?”
I sighed. “His name is Pierce Worthington. Jameson’s brother.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Well, that doesn’t explain why he was glaring daggers at you the entire time.”
“He blames me for his brother’s death.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That’s so unfair. You weren’t the one driving like a freaking lunatic. He’s lucky his brother didn’t kill you too.”
I unwound the tag and stared at the deep red ridges along my finger. “I guess it doesn’t matter to him that I wasn’t driving. He thinks it’s all my fault.”
“It’s a shame he’s such a cold-hearted jerk. He’s that dirty, sexy kind of hot.”
Pierce Worthington was definitely handsome.
Pierce was slightly taller and carried himself with more confidence and grace.
While I’d never seen Jameson in anything other than jeans and a sweater, Pierce wore an expensive, perfectly tailored black silk suit to the funeral.
The man practically oozed power and money.
I had known nothing about Jameson’s family, but judging by the press after the accident, the Worthingtons were a big deal. Like old money big deal, like the family-came-over-to-America-on-the-Mayflower big deal.
I could sense it, the danger in him.
I shivered and rubbed my arms.
Hailey jumped up. “I’m keeping you up with my babble.”
I leaned back onto my pillow and burrowed deeper under the covers. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
She stroked my hair. “That’s what friends are for. Are you sure you’re okay now?”
I nodded but said nothing.
She flicked off the light before calling out “sweet dreams” over her shoulder.
Then she was gone.
I rolled over and stared out the window at the dark, starless night sky, afraid to go back to sleep.
It wasn’t fear of dreaming about the accident which kept me awake.
No.
It was a pair of glaring eyes that promised vengeance.
I pulled the covers to my chin. This was silly. There was nothing to fear.
It wasn’t like I had any reason to worry about ever seeing Pierce Worthington again.