Page 28

Past: The Accident—Twenty Years Old

A car screeches to a stop in front of me and I slam on the brakes.

Fuck. A red light.

The rain is pouring, making it hard to see.

Lightning splits across the dark sky and I flinch.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

I press a button to call Charles.

He’ll know what to do.

The call keeps ringing.

“You’re reached Charles Vaughn. I’m unable to pick up your call right now. Please leave a message—”

“No!” I cry.

Cars honk and I notice the light turning green.

Images of what I saw last night haunt me.

The screams. The cries.

The horror.

It was supposed to be fun.

A night in the town with the ballet academy.

Mingle with the sponsors, network, but more importantly, having a good time with Tay Tay.

She aced her performance—she was getting noticed.

She was on the cusp of a breakthrough.

A sob chokes my throat.

Tears pool in my eyes.

But then, everything happened.

My fingers tremble and I hit the redial button.

Dammit, Charles. Please.

Liam’s on a flight. Please, just pick up.

It goes to voicemail after one ring .

Tears slide down my cheeks and I shake my head—betrayal, not at my brothers, but at him —stabs my heart.

I can’t believe it. It has to be a nightmare, right?

Because I still can’t believe it and I saw it with my own eyes.

My lungs strain out a ragged exhale.

That voice I’d recognize anywhere.

The light blond hair.

The blue eyes I’ve known my entire life.

I have video evidence.

How could he? How will I face Taylor again?

Why couldn’t I save her in time?

Frantic thoughts barrel through my mind, colliding like wreckage.

The storm unleashes its fury on us; the rain hammering my windshield in violent sheets.

The wipers aren’t fast enough.

I can’t see.

Calm down, Lexy.

Get to Ethan. Tell him everything.

He’ll help you. He’s your north star, remember?

Thinking of the man I love, his quiet intensity, his secretive grin, I feel my panicked heart rate slowing.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my eyes squinting at the blurry road, trying to stay in my lane.

My phone rings and I jolt.

Charles. It has to be him.

Quickly, I answer.

“Charles?”

“You bitch, why did you stick your nose where it didn’t belong? You really thought you wouldn’t get caught?”

My stomach drops.

Horror curdles in my blood.

No. It can’t be. But why—

“Pull over, Alexis. Now!”

Headlights flicker in the rearview mirror.

My breath snags. My pulse pounds—a war siren.

No. I can’t pull over.

I need to get to Ethan.

The headlights flare into high beams. Blinding.

I slam the gas, ignoring the screech of my tires on wet pavement.

Ethan, he’ll protect me.

Past: The Accident—Twenty- Four Years Old

She never called me.

Life is cruel, a demon stabbing you in the heart when you least expect it.

Obliterating grief strangles me as I bang my head against the bathroom stall at Manhattan Memorial Hospital hours later.

Raw, anguished cries echo against the walls, like someone’s being murdered before my eyes.

Then I realize those sounds come from me.

She nearly drowned when her car plummeted into the Hudson.

My Nova is in surgery—hanging on by a thread—and things aren’t looking good.

I should’ve listened to the ominous warnings my body gave me.

I knew something was wrong.

I should’ve taught her how to swim.

I should’ve. Should’ve.

Should’ve.

I could’ve saved her.

If I went to her, despite her telling me I didn’t need to.

If I told her to find a place to park until the storm stopped.

Things would’ve been different.

I could’ve saved her.

Sliding down to the floor, I bury my head between my knees, my heart pulverizing under the weight of regret and devastation.

I wish I could turn back time .

To that moment when I hung up and strode back to the conference room.

How I told myself, she’s fine.

No. She’s not fine.

And now, I’m afraid.

Terrified.

Anderson men aren’t lucky in love.

The belief, which has faded ever since Alexis came into my life, comes barreling back with the force of a tsunami.

Unbidden, Cleo’s parting words—words I dismissed before because I hadn’t met Lexy yet—whisper into my mind.

Why couldn’t you have protected me?

I should’ve known. Should’ve.

Should’ve.

I have a feeling, the same ominous feeling from earlier, but tenfold stronger.

Things will never be fine again.