Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The SUV had managed to power through, making it to the other side with water sheeting in its wake like some kind of strange boat.
If the SUV had made it, Fox could too.
Don’t, a small inner voice of reason whispered to him. Wait. Turn back. Go back to Omen, go back to Summer, look at why you’re so desperate to run away that you have to leave now and you’re about to do something...to do something...
Dangerous.
Beyond dangerous.
Just because she died in this river doesn’t mean you have to, as well.
But even if that voice spoke so clearly, it was still so quiet. So much more quiet than the roar of his beating heart, the blood in his veins, the sense of desperation that said to get out. To run. To put as much distance between himself and the thing that frightened him as he could, because if he didn’t...
He might run back to Summer.
And he was more afraid of Summer than he was of the washed-out bridge.
Wasn’t that bitter irony.
That soft, sweet puppy of a man...
Terrified Fox beyond all reason.
He closed his eyes, resting his brow to the steering wheel.
Then breathed in deep, slowly pressed his foot down on the gas, and inched forward.
The strength of the current hit him as the Camry edged onto the bridge; the water might look slow, but he could feel it rocking against the car and pushing with a terrible force. Gritting his teeth, he picked up speed, forcing the Camry forward; it was barely more than a hundred yards, just a short hop to the other side, he could make it, he could make it, he just had to remember he was safe inside a two thousand pound vehicle and the water wasn’t touching him and he wouldn’t hyperventilate, black out, lose control...
He had one bad moment as he hit a bump in the concrete on the bridge—and for a moment it felt like the car was about to lift off and float away, pitched over the side and sinking down, down, as water under the wheels left him drifting, skewing. Barely breathing, his lungs caving in, he wrenched the steering wheel, floored the gas, lurched forward. He heard the water sucking up into the engine, heard it coughing, sputtering, but he kept his foot on that gas pedal and made the Camry move, spraying up water to either side of him as he went tumbling in a clumsy skew of tires off the foot of the bridge and onto the highway on the other side.
Right as the engine started choking, grinding, wheezing.
And he barely managed to get free of the waters spilling over the riverbank, hauling the steering wheel to one side, and swerving himself off the road onto the shoulder before the engine died.
Fox just...sat there, staring through the windshield blankly, his heart hammering. For half an instant he thought to check his phone to call for roadside assistance or 911, but of course it was dead. Of course. He let it drop into the cup holder.
Before he let out a broken, raspy “Fuck!” and thudded his forehead against the wheel.
What was he doing?
He could have just...just damned well killed himself, being reckless, acting like some melodramatic asshole because he just...because he just...
Fucking hell.
His eyes were leaking.
And they wouldn’t stop, no matter how he tried, searing past his tight-closed eyelids while he tried to breathe past the adrenaline closing his throat and the rage clotting up inside him.
Rage.
At himself, at...at her.
“Why did you do this to me?” he demanded, gasping out wet, hoarse breaths, clawing his fingers against the wheel. “Why...why is it so hard...why did you get to leave and I had to stay here with this and I can’t even let myself feel anything or I’m terrified I’ll fall apart, and I just... I’m so... I’m so tired of grieving and you left me and now I’m leaving him when I want... I want...”
He didn’t know what he wanted.
That was the worst part.
He didn’t know what he wanted, and he didn’t know how to reach for what he didn’t know.
He just knew he didn’t want to be stuck here on the side of the road in a washed-out car, choking on his own tears after he’d done possibly the most reckless, ill-considered, childish thing of his life.
No...he knew.
He wanted to be back in Omen.
He wanted to be back at Albin Academy.
He wanted to be curled up in bed with Summer, watching the rain fall and listening to him talk about whatever troubles the boys laid at his feet today.
But instead he was alone.
Shaking.
Sobbing.
And only hoping the headlights glowing hot in his rearview mirror from across the river were someone with a truck powerful enough to drag him out of this mess of his own creating, and take him back to Summer.