“Claire! Claire, wait, stop!” I shout, and I take off running after her, nearly knocking over half the contents of a shelf in my office as I go.

None of this is expected, and my head is still spinning over how quickly everything is crumbling down all around me.

“Claire!” I shout again, but she has already gotten some distance on me.

I can’t believe I let things go this far.

Claire was right to be upset about my forgetting the papers, but I never expected anything close to this.

Maybe she’s not thinking clearly. Maybe the stress from work has just built up over time and snowballed with all her frustrations about . . . well, everything. Her parents, her job, her new jerk of a boyfriend. It has all been one wild ride for the past month.

No wonder she seems like she’s been pushed to and beyond her limits.

I rush outside after Claire and see her several yards ahead of me already. I jog after her.

I don’t want to come off like a maniac just sprinting after her wildly, but I can’t let her go. I can’t let this be how things end, with some humiliating misunderstanding that would make us both miss out on something incredible.

But Claire is so damn fast—she’s got a head start on me and she’s running with all her might. She’s already halfway across the parking lot to her car when I rush out after her.

I can barely keep up, even though I hop over one of the hoods of an employee’s car and stick the landing as I close the distance.

Within seconds, she’s in her car and turning the ignition on.

I push my body to its limits, trying to get to the passenger door, but before I can get to it, Claire peels out of the parking spot.

Her headlights are facing me, and right this second, I know no amount of bravado on my part will keep her from mowing right on over me. I dive out of the way as her engine roars, and she jets forward.

“Shit—Claire, stop it!” I yell as she leaves me in the dust and screeches out onto the road.

I chase her, running out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. But she’s not waiting for anything, much less me.

I watch her gun the engine down the road toward the first stoplight, and as she goes, my heart jumps to my throat.

It’s red, and she isn’t slowing down.

Horns start blaring from all directions as soon as she zooms into the intersection, and everything that happens next is a blur. One car barrels toward her side of the car, but it veers out of the way at the last second.

Claire must have seen the second one coming at her passenger’s side, because this time, she careens out of the way, tires screeching and leaving skid marks on the asphalt as the two cars barely avoid each other . . .

. . . and Claire’s car slides head-first into the traffic-light pole, metal and glass crumpling together with a hellish, sickening sound.

“CLAIRE!”

Everything seems surreal as adrenaline courses through my veins. I sprint out into traffic faster than I’ve ever moved in my life.

This can’t be real.

This can’t be happening.

It transitioned from bad to unbelievable in a matter of seconds.

Something in me just can’t accept what I’m looking at. Claire’s car looks about a third shorter than it was, like a giant shoved it into the pole as hard as he could. Smoke is slowly rising up from the engine. Some bystanders are already getting on their phones, probably to call 911.

None of that registers as totally real, though, not in my mind.

To me, everything else in the world doesn’t matter.

It’s just Claire. I need to get to her, and fast.

As my long legs clear the asphalt-covered intersection, there’s ringing in my ears. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it everywhere, every pulse in every vein.

When I get close to the car, I crunch over broken glass. But still, I don’t even think about slowing my pace until I’m right at the passenger door.

I feel faint at the sight inside.

Claire isn’t moving.

Her airbag deployed, but I see blood on it.

I grip the driver’s side door and yank on it as hard as I can. The metal is groaning, but there must be something jamming it. I curse as I climb over the hood to get to the passenger’s side door.

Not like this. Not like this. Don’t you fucking go out on me like this, Claire!

I wrench the passenger side door open and pick up a shard of broken glass to pierce the airbag. I shove it out of the way and unbuckle Claire’s seatbelt, then do the same to the bag pinning her against the seat. Once the air deflates and gives her some room to breathe, I reach out to caress her, but I hold myself back from moving her, in case doing so would make her injuries worse.

It’s torture, letting her sit there like that, but I have no choice.

“Claire! Claire, can you hear me, baby? Claire, stay with me! Say something, please!” My voice sounds distant, like I’m a spectator to my own life, holding the woman I love and wondering whether she’s dead or alive.

I can’t think about the former. I can’t let that kind of doubt grip me. But it does, and I feel my whole body shaking in anger and frustration.

Claire’s face is pale, and I see the trickle of blood is coming from a cut somewhere on her head. People are gathering around me, craning to get looks at her while I try to get some kind of response from her, any at all.

I watch one of my tears hit her face, and I hear the droning sound of sirens in the distance coming our way.