Page 66 of Beautiful Forever
“Hendrix threw the first punch. He also had a knife,” I remind him.
“And you despise Hen. Seems like the same situation to me.”
Okay. True. But I argue my point anyway because I want Tristan to see the Aleksei I knew. “It was three against one. He was protecting me. And Hendrix has always been a huge jackass.”
He tries to hold in his chuckle. “It’s going to take time, Aleksander.”
I know it is, and I appreciate that he was the one to first offer the metaphorical olive branch. So, I reciprocate.
“Aleks. My friends call me Aleks.”
He fucking smiles at me. “Friends, huh?”
“Don’t make me take it back.”
“You can’t. You said it. You can’t unsay?—”
Window glass peppers my face in a sudden explosion. The seat belt painfully cuts into my chest when I violently fly forward just as the airbags deploy. The SUV suddenly swerves into the guardrail, and I reflexively reach up to brace the overhead, my left arm automatically extending across Tristan’s chest to hold him in place when we flip and roll end-over-end down a shortembankment. For the longest five seconds of my life, the world spins out of control before coming to a jarring stop.
Hanging upside down, I struggle against the suffocating grip of the seat belt as I try to process what just happened. Did something hit us? A deer?
My mind rapidly clicks through images like a child playing with a viewfinder. The driver’s side window exploded inward before we crashed. No other cars were on the road with us.
“Tristan…you okay?” All the blood rushes to my head, and I can actually feel my heartbeat throb inside my skull. “Tristan.”
When he doesn’t respond, I look over. He limply dangles from the seat’s restraints, blood dripping down like falling rain from a large gash on his forehead.
“Tristan,” I say louder.
He doesn’t move, his body frighteningly still, and fear wraps its icy tendrils around my heart, squeezing until I can barely breathe.
I can’t lose anyone else.
And then I smell it. Acrid smoke and the overpowering fumes of gasoline.
“Tristan, man. Wake up. We’ve got to move.” With fumbling fingers that refuse to cooperate, I frantically work the seat belt release, needing to get to him. Save him. “Tristan! Fucking wake up!”
The interior of the car begins to flood with smoke, but it’s the heat I feel coming through the vents that kicks my ass into gear.
ShitShitShit.
I savagely tear at the belt release.
Click.
Gravity suddenly pulls me down as soon as I’m free, and I fall head-first into the hard ceiling, my knees smashing into my face and making me see stars. I fight the dizziness and use everybit of my strength to kick the passenger door open. It creaks and groans when it finally cracks wide enough for me to squeeze out.
Stumbling upright, I see the first licks of flames shoot up through the front of the undercarriage.
Get to Tristan. Get to Tristan.Those three words are my mantra that runs on repeat as I race around to the driver’s side. I pull on the handle, but the car door resists, the metal too deformed where it’s wedged in the ditch we landed in.
Fuck!
Dropping to the ground, blunt pieces of tempered glass cut into my chest and hands.
“Hold on. I’ve got you,” I promise him, rolling over onto my back, so I can fit through the opening where the window used to be. With effort, I’m able to get his belt unlatched and quickly catch him when he drops. “I’ve got you,” I say again, praying that he hears me. That he believes me.
Running on adrenaline, my muscles strain as I pull Tristan’s heavy, unconscious body from the wreckage, not stopping until I’m sure we’re far enough away from the flames.
