Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE | TARYN
Inever understood what people meant when they said something played behind their eyes in slow motion. I tried to envision it sometimes. The ability to have that power seemed intriguing.
No matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t something I could comprehend.
But now? I feel it.
I see it in how my headlights reflect off the murky waves of the Columbia River while the lingering glint of Colten’s lights dances in my vision.
The understanding hits me as hard as the impact of my truck smashing through the water’s surface.
There’s so much adrenaline and horror coursing through my body that I don’t feel anything when my forehead smashes into the steering wheel. I also don’t feel the pain when my chest hits the front with such force that I wonder if my ribs might shatter and puncture my heart.
Also, the out-of-body experience.
Yeah. I comprehend that now, too.
Nevertheless, this is my fault.
“You’ll have to accept the parts I allow you to have.”
Colten said that to me weeks ago, and I accepted it. Accepted him. That’s what you do when you care for someone so profoundly because you fell for all the good parts somewhere along the way.
The bad parts of Colten, though? They’ve morphed into something I respect. He is overly protective of his family, which is why he has layers upon layers of barriers encasing his heart. They come first, and they will always come first.
Loving me means allowing himself the opportunity to be hurt. And when Colten is broken, he thinks his vulnerability not only infects him but weakens his family.
His rejection stings.
So badly. But I understand why he did it and it would be easier if I didn’t. Easier if I could hate us for dragging each other along when we knew breaking each other was inevitable.
I was feeling trapped when he didn’t say the words back. Observed as the imaginary walls closed with each moment of silence when he didn’t utter a word. The walls squeezed me tighter than any place I had been before.
But the reality is, despite Colten not saying he loved me, I hope a part of me healed him, even if it was the slightest bit. I know he feels something for me, even if he isn’t sure what it is. He feels everything.
I saw what he is like when he lets go. The tension that tugs at his jawline when he’s trying so hard not to give in, but he would take one look at me and let his walls collapse for a little while.
He collapsed some of mine. The parts of me that told myself I would never find a place I wanted to settle.
With him, I would have.
The timer slowly ticks, ticks, ticks away the deeper my truck sinks, and the regret I didn’t sense before fills my veins as water floods the floor of my truck.
I shouldn’t have run. People leaving is the one thing that kills him, and that’s precisely what I did.
That was my last thought the moment his headlights appeared behind me.
I knew the bend in the road was there, but I was going too fast. Distraction overcame me because the man who said he couldn’t give me everything realized he shouldn’t have let me go.
Now it’s too late.
My head pulses wildly, feeling like someone is taking a sledgehammer to my skull, repetitively beating down to haul me into an unconscious state. Everything in my vision is blurred, and my body is focusing heavily on the pain I can now feel everywhere and not only in my heart.
Lifting a hand to my face, I massage my fingers into my temple, releasing a groan.
Think, Taryn.
Get out.
Get out.
Get out.
My eyes begin to focus, the horror registering so fast as the truck dives nose-first into the blackened river.
Icy water laps at my legs, my whole body already shivering from the ache blending with a substantial dose of panic.
Without wasting another precious second, my hand flies to my seat belt.
My body is flung forward over the steering wheel, my hand struggling to reach it, but I manage to unclasp myself.
Waves crash against my driver’s side window, and the water’s surface splatters with the downpour of rain. The water in the cab is up to my waist now, and from what I know, the only way to get out of this is to crawl out the windows.
Reaching for the old crank on my door—because of course, my truck is a dinosaur—I wind it, the window coming down only slightly.
Each crank gets more challenging as my strength dwindles and my head spins.
I swallow the acid creeping up my throat when it no longer budges, and I’m left with an open window with two inches of space.
In a sinking car.
Tears cascade down my cheeks, my hands violently shaking and cold to the point where the numbness gradually overtakes all my limbs.
Managing to glance into my back seat shadowed by the inky darkness of the stormy night, the tiny flicker of hope I have that I can find something to break the window disappears.
I’m cold.
My head is throbbing.
My limbs are aching.
My heart fucking hurts, and as I watch the last wave crash against the window and turn into nothing but a pitch-black void dragging me under, my brain tells me I’m going to die.
Some people say regrets are all you think about when death comes calling. I always hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but for me, it’s true.
Images of my parents with their warm smiles cross my vision. I know they love me. I shouldn’t have cared that I was the one who always initiated the conversation. I should have called them. Reached out more. Because even if they don’t reach out first, I still want to hear their voices.
God. Cameron, Brennan, Tristan, and Elena. People always leave them, and now I’m just another name on that list.
I needed a breather—some space to be alone after pouring my heart out to Colten and receiving deafening silence in return. And now my gut churns with guilt, wishing I would’ve sat in my room in the tower before making any rash decisions.
To fight harder instead of walking away.
Nobody has fought for him before.
He fights for his family, but nobody fights for him.
Colten’s handsome face flashes before me in a medley of beautiful images until he is the only person consuming my thoughts.
Like the first time my eyes magnetized to his translucent green ones when he opened the school door for my “interview.” When he caught me in the orchard and called me his Little Ghost for the first time.
The effortless smiles that tug at his lips when he’s around his family.
The butterflies he gave me that night when he surprised me with my birthday picnic under the lights in the orchard.
All the moments I’ve felt him move inside me like he was the one piece I’ve been missing all along.
The piece that made life feel less hollow and kept me grounded.
He keeps me grounded.
“I’m sorry I left,” I whisper, the words coming out shaky from the shivers impacting my weak body. Colten can’t hear me, but I wish there were some way I could make him feel them.
But I’m down here, and he’s up there.
The water is higher, pouring through the slit in the window. It’s drifting up to my neck.
The water level rises.
Up.
Up.
Up.
Water trickles down my cheeks, and I can’t tell if the wetness is from my eyes or the river. But when I lick my lips, and the salty flavor coats my tongue, I know it’s my tears.
I hope you’ll forgive me one day.
Then I inhale my last, deep breath, letting the river overtake me. My head completely submerges, but my eyes are still open.
One second feels like one minute. Thirty seconds feels like a lifetime of drowning. Then, the front of the truck makes contact with something underwater, and the back tailgate slowly drifts down to even out. But my taillights, still shining through the darkness, reflect off what appears to be rock.
I must be on a ledge that’s part of the cliff.
I glance out my driver’s side window one last time, my lungs burning and screaming for oxygen. But the pain starts to numb when my eyes snag on something silver glinting in the distance outside my driver’s side window.
My heart plummets as fast as my truck did when the realization hits.
The last thought that crosses my mind before my eyes close and my body surrenders is that my vehicle isn’t the only one the river has claimed.