Page 82 of Distress Signal

For once, I found myselfwantingto talk about it—about them and the night that changed everything.

“We were on our way up to Knoxville,” I started. “Lainey and I were in college at UT, and we lived close enough that we commuted from home. That weekend, she had a showing at an art gallery. She’d been in the city all day, getting things ready, while I’d been home. I had a waitressing shift at our local diner, which was why I wasn’t with her.”

The fall of our senior year was when we started getting serious about making careers out of photography. Had our paths diverged, that would’ve been cool too, but it was so incredible to me that photography wound up being another thing we each loved and could do together. One of our professors had seen a few of Lainey’s photos from a hiking trip we’d taken through the Smokey Mountains over the summer and wanted to display them in her gallery.

We both had jobs too. Even though we’d been living at home and didn’t have to pay rent, our parents had instilled in us the value of hard work. Earning our own money was important to us. Hence my job at the diner, where Lainey also worked.

“This freak thunderstorm came out of nowhere. We were less than five miles away from Knoxville when it came on. Dad was driving, and the rain was coming down so hard he could barely see. He was going too fast.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until Finn reached out and swiped at my cheek.

It all came flooding back at that moment.

The steady cadence of the rain hammering the roof of the car.

Mom begging Dad to go slower.

Dad swearing everything was fine.

Hydroplaning. Dad slamming on the brakes, the worst thing he could’ve done.

The oncoming headlights blinding me as our car cut across the opposite lane of traffic.

The way my body jerked forward when we hit the tree. The seatbelt digging into my chest and stealing my breath. The fiery pain in my leg.

Screaming for help, begging Mom and Dad to answer me.

“They died on impact,” I finished, tipping my bourbon back and draining the glass. “So I suppose I have that to be thankful for. On the other hand, I sat in that car with my dead parents for two hours while first responders arrived at the scene and worked to extract me. I’d been their main concern, of course, because I was still breathing. By the time they finally pulled me free, I had screamed myself hoarse.”

“How badly were you injured?”

“A broken fucking leg,” I said, laughing humorlessly, extending said leg out in front of me and pointing to the thick, white scar that cut across my shin.

“I remember this,” he murmured, fingers gently brushing over my skin. “From that night.”

This time, my laugh was real, though a little choked with unshed tears. “I was so scared when you pulled my boots off,” I admitted. “I remember thinking you’d find me repulsive and take off before we got to the good part.”

Back then, even six months after the accident, the scar had been pinky and puffy. Nothing like the now smooth, pale flesh.

“Fuck no,” he said, his hand fully encircling my ankle now, right below the spot where the scar stopped. “I honestly didn’t even notice it. You were the hottest woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t believe I was there with you, that you’d even given me the time of day. Hell, I still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I never could figure out how I managed to bag a real-life Rambo.”

“Simply by being you, belle.”

If he knew all of these things about me, had seen my scars both real and figurative, and he wasn’t running…why weren’t we at leasttrying?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, gesturing between us. My voice dropped to barely above a whisper as I continued. “But I do know I can’t stay away.”

Finn reached for my empty glass, sliding it onto the table alongside his before hauling me onto his lap.

“I think we’re inevitable, Reagan. And I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need.”

Curling against him, I fit my head beneath his chin. His arms wrapped me up tightly, so close I could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm in his chest.

That’s what Finn was.Steady. A solid presence, willing to walk at my side while I figured shit out—for however long that took.

“My sister is my number one priority,” I reminded him. “Ineedto find her.”