Page 48 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter forty-five

"Falling Short" - MOONZz

Mia

My flight from Boston had been delayed five times.

Even then, the plane had landed late, and of course, my luggage had taken its sweet time. I’d almost said fuck it and left without it.

But I made it.

I’m here.

I hadn’t told anyone I was coming. I could say I wanted it to be a surprise, but truthfully, it’s because I didn’t trust myself not to back out.

Once I get my luggage, I run to the dingy airport bathroom to change.

I want to look like her—the Mia Alexander he looks at like she’s the only person in the room.

I touch up my soft chocolate curls, reapply my lipstick, and pull on the leather skirt I’d worn at the Philly show that I know makes him crazy.

It’s the one thing I allowed myself to take from the bus that reminded me of him.

Once I deem my appearance as good as it’s going to get, I go off in search of my rental car. It smells like dirty leather and stale coffee, I notice, as I throw my bags in the trunk and pull out of the parking lot as if I’m racing the clock.

Because I am.

I know I’ve missed seeing him before the show starts, but I can still make it for the back half if I hurry.

I leave the radio off. My thoughts are loud enough.

What if Johanna is wrong, and he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s written me off because I hadn’t made it in time to see him before the show?

Still, I make myself keep going. Because I’m not going to get any answers by turning around.

The downtown Austin skyline comes into view as I take the exit towards the venue. I’m almost there. I run through what I want to say when I see him for the millionth time.

Surprise, baby. I couldn’t stay away.

That’s the truth—I can’t.

But then I notice them.

Two black Escalades behind me, practically riding my bumper. Fast. No signals. Just headlights and pressure. Then, the familiar flashes of cameras light up the car as if I’m in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Fuck me,” I curse, trying my best to stay in control as I grip the wheel tighter.

Have they been following me since I got off the plane? How did I not notice?

They swerve closer, one of them pulling up beside me as the flashing intensifies. I don’t know if they’re trying to get a shot or just intimidate me, but there’s no way I’m going to slow down. Not when I’m this close.

The other Escalade surges ahead and cuts me off, trying to make way for the first one to get their shot.

I overcorrect.

The tires screech as I swerve.

The brakes lock.

The wheel rips from my hands as the car clips the divider and tips.

Glass explodes around me.

Metal screams.

Then—darkness.