Chapter 32

Evelyn

There’s an insane, high-pitched ringing, almost a whine coming through the pain. For a second, I don’t know where I am.

I blink hard, seeing myself dressed in white silk, lying in a field of diamonds.

That’s right. It’s my wedding day. Everything is perfect.

My head really hurts. As I try to reach up to see why, I blink my eyes open again.

This time, they stay open.

It’s not diamonds scattered over my dress. It’s broken glass.

Shawn and I are wearing the windscreen. I’m crumpled in the corner of the seat. Shawn is slumped over the steering wheel. It looks like he hit it with his forehead.

“Shawn. Baby. Are you okay?”

I’m having trouble getting my body to work. I’m trying to move, but my fingers and hands just flutter uselessly. I can’t seem to get feeling into my arms.

“Shawn. Babe. Answer me, please.”

I can’t see him breathing. He’s not moving. Shards of glass lay scattered all over us.

The car is a heap of twisted metal. From the looks of the caved-in ceiling, we rolled a bit as we crashed. I was strapped in. Shawn wasn’t.

I try to get up, feeling fear creeping through my veins. I lurch against the seatbelt, clawing at it. I can feel hopeless, hysterical tears just seconds away.

“Shawn, wake up. Please, baby, please wake up.”

I run my hands down the seatbelt, searching for the clasp. I want to kid myself, do anything to reassure myself. But it’s useless.

Shawn’s dead. Shawn’s really dead this time.

I got him back only so I could watch him die.

My son is gone.

Everything is gone.

I get the clasp open and let the seatbelt slide away. I start moving slowly across the seat, glass tinkling all around me.

I grab Shawn by the shoulder, shaking him. He flops from side to side, arms falling off the steering wheel. His head rocks heavily, blood dripping from the steering wheel on to the floor.

He’s dead.

Everything was for nothing.

I wipe at my eyes, but the hot tears keep coming. Panic and loss swell in my chest.

I feel wild. Different. My outer shell is energized by the adrenaline, but my insides are cold and sick.

I give Shawn’s shoulder another shake. The way he wobbles heavily against the steering wheel makes me feel sick. I shove him again.

“Wake up, you lazy sack of shit! Shawn! Wake the fuck up! Do you hear me, Private? Wake up, you lazy, good-for-nothing cunt!”

I shake him harder and harder, yelling so hard my throat is torn to shreds, even if I can’t hear the words. I hit him, screaming. I pound his shoulders with my fists before sliding hopelessly back into my seat, tears pouring down my face.

Isn’t the car supposed to blow up now? That’s what always happens in the movies. I don’t care. Being in the center of a big explosion seems pretty good right now.

BOOM! All gone. No more pain. I’m dust on the wind.

Except Tanner is still out there.

I’m trying to wipe blood and snot off my face in a very poor effort of pulling myself together when Shawn moans. I stare, eyes wide. I’m not sure if my hope is tricking me.

“Oh, babe. Put the light out, would you? I must’ve drank too much at the wedding,” he groans, lifting his arms, trying to touch his face. Glass sparkles all around him, tinkling like fairy bells.

Why must violence be beautiful?

“Shawn!” I scream his name, over and over as he sits up and turns to me.

He opens his arms, and I fall into them. I feel him kiss my forehead as I press hard against his chest.

I let my sobs go, my grief and shock pouring out of me. My arms go around his waist, and for a few moments, we hold each other.

“We should move.” I feel Shawn’s voice against my face.

“Yeah.” I sit up. “Isn’t the car going to blow up?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. I don’t smell fuel, though. I think it’s cool. Damn, I could use some water.”

I wriggle around in my seat. The front of the car is fucked, wrecked, and smashed. The back area looks fine, if a little squashed.

I lean over, pulling open a bag on the back seat.

Shawn laughs as I pull my prizes back up the front. “Water and wet wipes?”

“Hey,” I smile into his face as I wipe some of the blood off his forehead. “No matter how old your kids get, you always have wet wipes around.”

“Where would I be without you?” He looks up at me lovingly as he takes a sip of water. I take a sip, too, as we both look down the street.

“I haven’t seen any cars,” Shawn says quietly.

“Nor have I.”

“We’ll have to get one.”

“Yeah. But he got away. We don’t know where we’re going.”

Shawn seems very far away from me as he stares out the front of the car. He wipes his face over with a wet wipe.

“I needed that knock on the head, baby. I finally finished my nightmare.”

“Huh?” I’m not sure I heard him right.

“Wait, what’s that?” Shawn suddenly gets up, pushes his door open, and walks quickly around the car. I follow him, wiping off my own face.

The car rolled just a short distance from the road. There’s nothing but open woods around.

“You hear that?” Shawn stops in the middle of the road.

I follow him quickly, dress swishing around my legs, heels clicking. Shawn’s tux is ripped and bloody in a dozen places—he looks like a Rambo movie gone wrong. Rambo’s wedding?

I can’t believe my dress is still in one piece.

“I do!” I turn around, looking down the road. “I hear it!”

It’s a very loud rumble. We both turn towards the sound, standing in the middle of the road.

A big, muscly-looking motorbike appears around the far bend. It flies towards us, slowing and rolling to a halt just in front of Shawn. The rider pulls off the helmet, long blond hair falling out in a cloud.

“Dude,” the young man looks us over. “You got wrecked, huh? Talk about bad luck! On your wedding day and all. You need me to call someone?”

I’m thinking, Yes, please. Ambulance, police, National Guard, FBI. Call every fucking body and do it now.

I couldn’t be more blown away by what Shawn says next.

“How much for your bike?”

“What?!” the young man exclaims, in perfect unison with me.

Shawn ignores me. “I mean it. Now. I gotta get going. Give it to me. I need it.”

I cross the few steps between us, putting a hand on Shawn’s arm. The young guy keeps his bike pressed between his knees—almost like he wants to take off and leave us to fend for ourselves.

“Shawn, honey, what are you doing? We don’t even know where we’re going! Let him call an ambulance.”

Shawn looks over his shoulder at me. His eyes are fierce.

“Maybe you should stay here. Go to the hospital. But I need the bike, and I need to go now.”

I glare up at him indignantly. “Wherever you go, I go.” I stick my chin out defiantly.

He looks back at the kid. “So, how about it, son? How much for the bike? Wait, I’ll tell you what.” He hunts through his pockets, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll give you all of my credit cards in here. There’s a good few hundred thousand on them all. Have all the cash, too.

“You take these, buy anything you want. My treat. Once I’m done with the bike, I’ll give her back to you, okay?”

Shawn has pulled the cards out and fanned them out like a winning hand. Black, platinum, and gold they shine. Shawn holds them out to the kid with a fat wad of cash.

He looks uncertainly between us.

“It’s okay, son, truly. We just had some bad luck on our wedding day, and now we have to go and make it right.” I smile at him warmly, trying to be encouraging.

The kid looks puzzled but slowly dismounts, making sure Shawn has hold of the handle bars before he lets go. Shawn straddles the bike instantly. I jump forward, getting on behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist.

This dress was not made for impromptu motor bike rides. The split has torn up to the waist, and my right leg is completely bare except for the white lace stocking.

The kid reaches out and takes the cards.

“This is the weirdest fucking day ever.” The kid looks at the cards and cash in disbelief.

“You and me both, kid.” Shawn kicks the bike up, making it rev as the engine throbs to life.

“But where are we going?” I yell over the noise.

“You’ll see, baby. I got the knock on the head I needed, I told you. I know exactly what to do.” He crouches down, eyeing the road as he spins the accelerator. The bike purrs as we tear off the road.

A few turns later, I realize where we’re headed.

James’ place.