The smell of leather and wind. The best combination in the fucking world, and it’s one I only get to smell when I’m doing this.

My motorcycle and my F-14 Tomcat are the two places I feel most alive. My world lights up when I’m riding or flying, everything growing more vivid and bright. I can breathe a little easier, my head grows a little clearer. Especially after what happened to my parents.

What about Poppy? Doesn’t she make you feel alive?

The thought creeps into my brain without my permission as I lean over the handlebars and gun the engine a little harder. Pushing the bike to move faster. Poppy should make me feel that way. The woman is model-gorgeous. She’s every man’s wet dream. But the earth doesn’t move when I’m around her. Does it ever? That shit isn’t real…it’s for movies. Poppy’s a good match for me because our lives fit together. She’s there at the end of the day when I get back from aerial training or when I come home after a deployment. She’s safe.

So when I get the chance to grab these moments alone on my bike, I do. A grin twists my mouth when I think of Poppy on the back of my Ninja. She’d rather die than mount the back of my bike. So these moments are mine alone.

And that’s how I need it to be.

The road ahead of me stretches out like a blank canvas. I ride for hours at a time on a Saturday afternoon like this, and today will be no different.

I glance to the side, appreciating the miles of green low country rolling out beside me. The road heading out of Savannah and leading up the coast toward Charleston is my favorite driving route.

As my head turns back toward the road in front of me, my helmet shifts on my head.

Fucking strap. I noticed the damn thing wasn’t functioning properly the last time I rode and put it on my to-do list; either having it fixed or buying a new helmet. I hadn’t gotten to it yet, and I work on fastening it back together with one hand while I ride, dropping my speed so that I can ride safely.

I can’t hear the car as it comes up behind me, never being able to pick up the noises of other vehicles over the roar of my engine and the thickness of my helmet. So when I catch side of the front fender edging past me, way too fucking close, I swerve to the side to avoid it.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

I catch sight of the driver as the car eases forward, her profile displaying her glancing down.

Fucking cell phones.

It’s the last thought I have before the front of her car brushes against my back wheel at the same time I’m leaning into the swerve.

I go down, my helmet hurtling in the opposite direction as me and the bike.

I don’t even remember landing, because thankfully, the world goes black before I do.

* * *

“What are you saying? That his head injury could have lasting effects?” Poppy’s shrill voice is the first thing I hear when I come to.

“Shut up, Poppy. Jesus, my brother almost died today. And all you’re worried about is whether or not he’s still going to be able to make you look good? You’re such a fucking leech.”

Axel. My brother sounds pissed.

Poppy’s never been his favorite person, but I’ve never heard him talk to her like this. I want to speak, but I don’t have the energy to open my mouth. What the fuck is wrong with me? Head injury? I want to ask them, find out what they’re talking about. No matter how hard I try to peel my eyelids open, though, the world stays dark. The effort makes me tired, and I fade back into oblivion.

* * *

The sterile smell of industrial cleaners stings my nose, and I turn my head from side to side, trying to get rid of the horrible scent. Hospital. I know that’s where I am, but why? What the hell is going on?

Trying to open my eyes hurts and it doesn’t seem to work. Everything around me is still dark.

What the fuck is wrong with my eyes?

“Welcome back, big bro.” Axel’s voice is soft, steady.

I turn my head, searching for him. But I can’t see anything. My heartbeat takes off; my breathing accelerates. A beeping sound grates against my nerves, causing my anxiety to rocket higher and higher.

“What’s wrong with my eyes, Axel?” I don’t recognize my voice. Raw, hoarse, like I’ve swallowed glass. Full of panic and straight-up fear.

“Easy, Flash. You’re gonna be just fine. I’m with you, you know that. I’m gonna get the doctor in here to talk to you, but you gotta calm the fuck down.” His hand on my shoulder is pure comfort during a storm, and I grip it with my own hand.

There’s some rustling as Axel does something behind my head, and then a woman’s voice reaches out from a speaker nearby.

“Yes?”

“My brother’s awake. Send the doctor, please.” Axel’s response is grim.

Damn. If Axel, my fun-loving, free-spirited little brother is serious, everything is about to go to hell.

A few minutes later, the door to what I’m assuming is my hospital room opens, and a man speaks. I snap my head toward the sound of his voice.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m Dr. Silverstein. We’re glad to see you awake. Let me give you a quick examination before we discuss your prognosis, all right?”

I nod, and the doctor moves forward. He takes my vitals and asks me questions. He instructs me to move different parts of my body, which hurts. My leg is casted; I have a broken femur. My collarbone is broken. And apparently I’m covered in bruises and abrasions. There’s pain medication dripping into my system every few hours through an IV drip.

Dr. Silverstein spends a lot of time examining my eyes, asking me what I can see and what I can’t. The answer?

Nothing. I can’t see a motherfucking thing.

The dread eating away at my insides grows a little stronger.

“What the hell is going on, Doc? Why can’t I see anything? It’s temporary, right?” I hate the pleading note in my voice, but I can’t help it. I need answers, and I need them now.

The doctor doesn’t hesitate. He’s sure of himself, and he’s matter-of-fact. “Your helmet flew off during your accident, causing your head to hit the ground unprotected. The person who hit you drove away, so you weren’t found until another motorist passed and called nine-one-one. Mr. Jackson, that delay wreaked havoc on your blain. There was bleeding that meant you received emergency surgery as soon as you arrived. The brain bleed caused your retinas to detach. In both eyes. The result was catastrophic, something we couldn’t fix, even after the reattachment was complete and the bleeding had stopped. I’m afraid the damage to your eyesight is permanent.”

His words continue, and Axel’s hand grips my own with a strength I can’t muster for myself right now, but I don’t hear anything else. His words, the ones telling me that I’ll never see again, keep echoing in my brain on repeat.

I’ll never see again. I’ll never fly another fighter jet. My career in the Air Force is finished. I’ll never ride a motorcycle again. Hell, I won’t even ever drive a car again.

What the fuck kind of man am I going to be if I can’t do the things I was born to do?

I let go, allowing the darkness I’ve been fighting since I woke to grab me and pull me under.

* * *

“There’s rehabilitation, Flash. Your life isn’t over.” Axel pushes the tray of food in front of me until it’s over my lap.

Rage burns and boils inside me, overflowing at his words. “That’s really fucking easy for you to say, Ax!”

My arm flies out, hitting the tray. The satisfying sound of shit hitting the floor pulls my lips into a sneer. “You’re here for a week, right? Then you get to go back. You get to fly again. Your life goes on. Mine? Mine’s over.”

“Bullshit.” Axel’s voice is flat, unforgiving. “If you think I’m going to let you give up and retreat, you don’t know me very well, brother. I’ll find a way to help you with this, you know I will. You’re never going to be alone.”

I bark out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. Speaking of alone, where’s Poppy?”

She should be here, but the fact that she isn’t tells me something important. I don’t let myself go there; I just wait for Axel’s answer.

“She’s around.” I can picture him shoving an angry hand through his short hair.

Like she’s been summoned, the hospital door opens, and the scent of Poppy’s sweet perfume precedes her into the room.

I swallow thickly, a painful lump forming in my throat. “Poppy.”

Her footsteps, marked by the click of her signature stilettos, approach the bed. Her cold hand finds mine and I hear Axel move away to make room for her.

“Flash,” she whispers.

I’m craving her closeness in a way I never have before. Right now, all I need is for her to curl up beside me and hold me. Tell me it’s all going to be okay. Let me know that whatever hell I’m about to walk through, she’s going to be walking right beside me.

She doesn’t come close enough. She holds my hand, but her grip is weak, almost limp. “Is it true? You can’t see me?”

My eyes burn with wetness, and I shake my head. “No. I can’t see you, Pops.” My voice cracks. “I can’t see anything.”

She sucks in a breath. “Is it…is it”—her voice trembles—“permanent?”

My jaw tightens as I drop my head back further into the pillows. God, this feeling in my chest…it hurts so fucking bad. The way she sounds…the way she’s probably looking at me right now. It’s different, I can feel it.

It’s funny how I never thought of my relationship with Poppy as shallow before. To me, we were just like any other couple. Right now, all I want to do is pour out the poison threatening to overtake me and let her give me comfort. But I can’t.

And I know she wouldn’t.

That’s not what Poppy wants. She wants me strong; she wants me capable. What’s going to happen if I can’t give her that?

“He’s gonna recover, Poppy. Stop looking at him like that.” Axel’s voice drops into an angry growl.

Her voice drips with incredulousness when she responds. “Recover? He’s blind. How can he possibly recover from that?”

My voice scratches from my throat. “Pops…”

She drops my hand, and I can hear it when she steps away. “No, I need…time. I’ll be…waiting…for you when you get home. Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond, turning around and walking out of the room, the door closing behind her seconds later.

“Bitch,” murmurs Axel.

For once, I don’t fight him on it. Because even though Poppy said she’d be there when I leave the hospital, somehow I know…

She won’t.