Page 199 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“I left him a text telling him I’ll be here. I’m glad we’re alone though, because I—uh”—a slow smile spreads across her red painted lips—“wanted to make sure what happened earlier stayed between us. I really like your brother and all, and I’d hate for him to find out that we—”

“Wait. What?” I shake my head as if my ears aren’t hearing properly. “You knew I wasn’t Jonah? You—”

Her laugh floats out freely, as I stare at her as if she’s crazy. I should be thinking more along the lines that she’s easy, that she’s a bitch for doing that to my brother . . . but I’m sixteen, and that’s my convoluted first thought about the girl I just lost my virginity to.

“Of course, I knew.” She rolls her eyes. “I . . .”

Her words fade off as we turn toward the police cruiser that pulls into the driveway—its flashing lights are on but the sirens are off.

It’s as if my body just tuned into everything around me—everything that has been faded by the high of sex—and there is the worst feeling in my gut and chest. I can’t breathe. I don’t know how I know it, but something bad has happened.

Even worse, when I walk toward the police car, an officer is practically carrying my mom out of the passenger seat of the car. She looks as boneless as her complexion is pale. Her face is swollen from tears but her eyes look completely hollow.

“Mom. Mom!” My voice breaks as I run to her.

“Jonah. Thank God you’re okay,” she says as she clings to me. I look at the officer, and then try to pull my mom off me so I can look her in the eyes.

“It’s Hunter, Mom. It’s me. What happened? Tell me what happened?” I yell at her as she stares at me with a slack jaw, almost as if she doesn’t believe I’m me.

“Hunter?”

“Yes. It’s me. What happened?”

“But you were the one who was supposed to be in the car.” She grabs my hand and yanks me to the cruiser as the ever-present dread begins to weigh me down in a weight I’ve never felt before. “We need to get to the hospital. We need to—”

“What the hell happened?” I yell. Every part of me goes silent that moments ago felt off. And that scares me more than anything.

“There’s been an accident, Jonah.”

“Hunter. Mom, it’s Hunter.”

“An accident. Your brother was in an accident.”

“What do you mean an accident?” I look at my mom and then to the officer. “What does she mean?”

“Your brother crossed the median and hit another car head-on.” His voice is serious but his eyes, his eyes tell me they’ve seen way too much, and I fear what he’s going to say next. I focus on the shield on his chest. The badge with the sun and rays of sunshine engraved on it. The letters of his last name, as I recite them in my head over and over and over . . . because if I stop, he’ll tell me my brother is dead.

He’ll tell me that my brother was drunk driving. That he was the responsible one. That when I refused to go get Mom, he went. He couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t say no. He drove to pick up our mom even though he’d been drinking.

Because I didn’t . . .

I was the screw-up. I didn’t pick up the fucking cell. His missed calls. Calls to tell me he couldn’t drive because he’d been drinking. And the officer would know. He’ll tell me that while I was having sex with my brother’s girlfriend out of spite, I caused this. I fucked up.

“Is he okay?” I can barely speak as my body blankets with goosebumps. My words feel like they have to be pried from my mouth as I stare at him and hope and wait and already know.

“He’s at the hospital. This officer—he picked me up from work to bring me there—to get you on the way—it’s very serious, Hunter. Your brother. He’s—and the other driver . . . she didn’t make it.”

I try to process.

I try to fathom.

I try to comprehend.

But none of it makes sense.

Except . . .

I caused this.