August. Age nineteen.

We pulled out of the gas station and Liam got back on the freeway. It was August, and our last weekend before the fall semester began. We’d decided to take a short road trip up to Sedona. Just a quick getaway before we had to buckle down for another term.

Headlights flashed as cars passed us. Liam had worked until eight, so we’d gotten a late start. It would be even later when we made it to Sedona, but neither of us minded. It felt like an adventure.

I twisted my engagement ring around my finger as I watched the dark scenery pass. Liam’s parents had expressed some concern about our announcement. Mostly they were worried we were too young, and we were rushing into it. I understood. We were young. But we’d reassured them that we weren’t planning to get married until after we both finished college. This was simply a promise that marriage was in our future, when we were both ready.

That had made them feel better, and they’d made it clear they’d love to have me as a daughter-in-law. Olivia had been thrilled from the beginning. She’d told her parents it didn’t matter how old we were if we were in love and meant to be together.

I wasn’t in a hurry for a wedding. I loved that I had his ring and the assurance of a future where Liam would always take care of me. That was more than enough.

Liam took a sip of his peach iced tea and put it back in the cup holder. “So what should we do tomor—”

The world went crazy. A flash of light. Crunching metal. Screeching tires. I was hurtled sideways, my seatbelt digging into my neck. An explosion of pain in my head left me dizzy. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I couldn’t get any air. Everything spun, my limbs flailing. So much noise. Grinding, scraping sounds echoed in my ears. Glass shattered. I tasted the sharp tang of blood and everything turned over again.

We jerked to a stop. For a moment, quiet. Only the faint hum of traffic whirring past. Everything looked wrong. I blinked and tried to focus.

I was hanging upside down.

Craning my neck, I looked down at what should have been up. The ceiling was bent and dented, the windows broken. Granules of glass glittered everywhere.

So quiet. Why was it so quiet?

“Liam?” My voice croaked, the sound scraping through my throat.

No answer.

He hung upside down, his seat belt holding him in place. His arms were limp, his head bent at an odd angle against the partially caved-in cab.

Oh god. Oh god, no. Please, no.

“Liam? Liam, wake up.”

“Are you okay?” A voice from outside. Urgent. “Is anyone in there?”

“Liam,” I said, louder now. “Wake up.”

“I hear someone,” the voice said. A man’s face peered through the broken window. “Miss, help is coming, okay? Someone’s calling 911.”

“Liam.”

Liam didn’t answer. Didn’t move. So quiet. So still.

“Liam, please,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please wake up.”

“Hang in there, miss,” the man said. “An ambulance is coming.”

My body hurt in too many places to separate. Bile burned the back of my throat and my stomach turned over. My ears felt plugged, like all the noises around me were deadened. All I could hear was a steady drip, drip, drip.

It was Liam. He was bleeding, the relentless patter of his blood dripping onto the warped ceiling.

Bracing myself with one hand, I fumbled for the seat belt latch. I had to get him out of here. It released, and I crumpled against the ceiling. Crawled closer. Touched his face.

“Liam?”

His eyes were closed, his neck bent. Blood flowed freely from a gash on the front of his head. Covered his forehead, stuck in his hair.

Fear made my hands shake. This couldn’t be happening. I put a trembling hand in front of his nose and mouth and felt a whisper of breath. Relief poured through me. He was breathing. He was alive.

The man was still talking, but I didn’t know what he’d said.

“Hurry,” I said, my voice filled with the panic that threatened to overtake me. “Hurry, he needs help.”

“They’re coming, miss,” the man said. “Help is coming.”

* * *

Machines beeped and a huff of air poured into Liam’s lungs. He looked so fragile. So frail. His head was covered in heavy bandages and a breathing tube went down his throat. There were tubes and wires everywhere. I didn’t know what half of them did.

I squeezed his hand, but he didn’t squeeze mine back. It had been days, and he hadn’t woken up. Hadn’t responded. He just lay there, machines doing the work to keep his blood pumping, his lungs inflating.

My injuries hadn’t been life-threatening. I was bruised and battered, but nothing was broken. I’d been released from the ER after a few hours, and joined Liam’s family in the waiting room.

Sometime the next day, we’d been led to another waiting room. Doctors had talked to his parents and I’d listened in numb silence. Severe head injury. Lack of brain activity. Not much hope. They’d do more tests. Check again.

For the past several days, we’d waited, hoping for a change. Hoping for some sign of life.

Police had come and asked me questions about the crash. I couldn’t remember much. They told me we’d been hit by a larger truck. Forced off the road. We’d flipped and rolled over several times. All I knew was that it had happened so fast. Just one second, and the solid ground beneath us had disappeared and the world had gone crazy.

It hadn’t really stopped spinning. At least not for me.

The nurse came in and led me back to the waiting room. We weren’t allowed to stay with him for very long. I didn’t want to leave him, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. I’d argued the first time, begging them to let me stay, but they’d threatened to make me leave the hospital. So I’d gone quiet and obeyed.

A doctor was in the waiting room, talking to the Harpers. Brian’s face was impossible to read—expressionless—but I could see the strain of him holding something inside. Mary was pale, and tears streamed down Olivia’s cheeks.

I stopped in my tracks. Mary met my eyes, her pain reaching out to mingle with mine. In that moment, I knew what they were going to say. I knew why the doctor was there, and it wasn’t because he had good news.

“Oh, Brooke,” Mary said when I approached. She clutched my hands and I sank into the chair beside her. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

I looked up at the doctor. The compassion in his eyes squeezed my chest. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” he said. “As I was explaining to the rest of your family, Liam isn’t in a coma. There’s no sign of any brain activity. That means he’s medically deceased.”

“His heart is beating,” I whispered.

“Only because he’s on life support,” he said. “I know this can be hard to understand, but Liam isn’t alive anymore. He’s gone.”

I didn’t hear the rest. Something about organ donation and giving us time to say goodbye. None of it mattered to me. Nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

I sat with Liam, holding his hand for the last time. His fingers were limp and cold. The machines still did their job, moving blood through his veins, putting oxygen in his lungs. But it was all a sham. He was dead. Whatever made a person who they are, whatever spark had been inside of him that had made him alive, was gone. Extinguished.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and terrible. The heaviness of my grief weighed me down, threatening to crush me. I didn’t know if I could live through this. Didn’t know how. I’d tried to put my thoughts down on paper, but words had escaped me. There weren’t any that could give a voice to this pain.

I stroked his arm, memorizing the feel of his skin. We had only moments left. A few heartbeats. I shuddered and a sob bubbled up my throat.

“I don’t want to do this,” I whispered, knowing he wasn’t there to hear me. “You’re my life. You’re everything. You can’t leave me behind.”

I closed my eyes. Heard the swish of the curtain. Footsteps behind me. I felt Mary touch my shoulder. Olivia took my hand.

“Brooke, sweetheart,” Mary said, her voice so soft. Full of the pain we all shared. “It’s time.”