Page 5 of Crashed (Driven 3)
My heart stops.
And starts.
A hesitant exhale of relief flickers through my soul.
The pilot’s helmet is painted.
Red.
Wit
h black lines.
The call sign of Spiderman emblazoned on the front of it.
The little boy in me cheers. The grown man in me sags with relief.
I turn back to say goodbye to the little boy, but he’s nowhere to be found. How in the hell did he know about the superheroes? I look all around for him—needing the answer—but he’s gone.
I’m all alone.
All alone except for the comfort of those I’ve waited a lifetime to arrive.
My decision’s been made.
The superheroes finally came.
Numbness slowly seeps through my body. I can’t move, can’t think, can’t bear to pull my eyes from the mangled car on the track. If I look anywhere else, then this will all be real. The helicopter flying overhead will really be carrying the broken body of the man I love.
The man I need.
The man I can’t lose.
I close my eyes and just listen, but I can’t hear anything. The only thing in my ears is the thumping of my pulse. The only thing besides the blackness that my eyes see—that my heart feels—is the splintered images in my mind. Max melting into Colton and then Colton fading back to Max. Memories that cause the hope I’m grasping like a lifeline to flicker and flame before dying out, like the darkness smothering the light in my soul.
I race you, Ryles. His voice so strong and unwavering fills my head and then dissipates, glittering through my mind like ticker tape.
I double over, willing the strangling tears to come or a spark to fire within me, but nothing happens, just lead dropping through my soul and weighing me down.
I force myself to breathe while I try to fool my mind into believing the past twenty-two minutes never happened. That the car never cartwheeled and pirouetted through the smoke-filled air. That the metal of the car wasn’t cut apart by somber-faced medics to extricate Colton’s lifeless body.
We never made love. The single thought flits through my head. We never had the chance to race after he finally told me the words I’d needed to hear—and that he’d finally accepted, admitted to, and felt for himself.
I just want to rewind time and go back to the suite when we were wrapped in each other’s arms. When we were connected—overdressed and underdressed—but the horrific sights of the mangled car won’t allow it. They have scarred my memory so horribly for a second time that it’s not possible for my hope to escape unscathed.
“Ry, I’m not doing too good here.” They’re Max’s words seeping into my mind, but it’s Colton’s voice. It’s Colton warning me of what’s to come. What I’ve already lived through once in my life.
Oh God. Please no. Please no.
My heart wrings.
My resolve falters.
Images filter in slow motion.
“Rylee, I need you to concentrate. Look at me!” Max’s words again. I start to sag, my body giving out like my hope, but arms close around me and give me a shake.
“Look at me!” No, not Max. Not Colton. It’s Becks. I find it within myself to focus and meet his eyes—pools of blue fringed with the sudden appearance of lines at their corners. I see fear in them. “We need to go to the hospital now, okay?” His voice is gentle yet stern. He seems to think that if he talks to me like a child I won’t shatter into the million pieces my soul is already broken into.
