I suck in a shaky breath. Everything is spinning out of control. I already lost Finley—what if this costs me my family too?
Mom pats my hand, her voice fierce. “Alex, there’s nothing you can say that will make me stop loving you.” I turn to look at her, and her eyes are fierce. “Nothing.”
I turn to my brothers. Tyler smirks. “Don’t look at me, man. Moms are required to love their kids unconditionally. Brothers on the other hand…” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his grin softens the jab. He’s giving me an out, a lifeline.
Grant though—Grant won’t even look at me. His silence burns more than any insult.
“Go on, Alex,” Mallory urges, her eyes kind. “We’ll still love you. Just say it.”
I draw in a jagged breath. Time to jump off the cliff.
“What happened in the car is blurry. I was half-passed out, but I remember Deidre swerving over the center line—then the impact.”
Mom’s whole body goes rigid beside me, her hand crushing mine.
“When I came to, the airbags had blown. Deidre was screaming. It took me a second to understand what happened—we’d hit a minivan. Head-on.” My throat burns. “I forced my door open and stumbled onto the road. That’s when I saw it—the wreckage.”
“Was Deidre okay?” Mallory asks.
I nod. “Mostly. A broken leg and a few stitches in her cheek and her hand. All things considered, she was lucky.”
Tyler leans forward. “What about the passengers in the other car?”
I hold his gaze. “There was only one passenger—a married father with three kids. He was unconscious with blood streaming down his face. Thank God, I had the sense to call 911, because we were the only cars on the road. But while I was talking to the dispatcher, smoke started coming out from under his hood. Within seconds there were flames.”
Mom and Mallory gasp. My brothers sit frozen. Dad gives me a soft, steady look, urging me on.
“I screamed at Deidre to get out of the car. She managed to stumble away, but the other guy was still passed out. I tried to open his door, but it was crushed. So, I circled around to the passenger side, opened the door, and crawled inside. When he wouldn’t wake up, I unbuckled his seat belt, then dragged him over the passenger seat, onto the pavement, away from the fire.”
Mom presses a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Alex! You could have been killed!”
“I was fine.” But I wasn’t. I’m still not. Sometimes I can still smell the acrid smoke. I still hear Deidre’s screams. Still see my hands slick with his blood. It replays like a broken record at three in the morning, or in the middle of a business meeting, or when I’m driving down the road. The only way I’ve learned to cope is shove it down so deep I can pretend it never happened. But burying it didn’t just kill the guilt. It smothered everything else too.
Grant finally looks up, his face unreadable. “What happened to the man?”
“He lived. He spent weeks in the hospital and even longer in rehab.” My voice splinters. “He’d broken his back in the accident and when I dragged him out…” I inhale sharply. “He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
Mom and Mallory gasp. Dad just keeps his warm eyes on mine. “And what did the hospital staff tell you?” he asks gently. “That if you hadn’t pulled him out, he would have died. By the time emergency services arrived, the van was fully engulfed. You saved his life.”
I shake my head, because no matter how many times someone says it, his life should never have been in danger to begin with.
“I send him money every month,” I blurt out, instantly regretting it.
Tyler’s brows shoot up. “Wait—what?”
“They started a fundraiser for him. It was still open when I graduated, so I began donating under another name. I still do, more now that I can afford it. He doesn’t know it’s me. I never want him to.” I swallow. “I’ve never told anyone before. You guys are the first.”
Mom’s eyes shine with tears. “Alex, that’s incredibly thoughtful.”
I shake my head, my voice rough. “No. It’s not thoughtful. It’s penance.”
Grant leans forward, his voice firm. “You weren’t driving, Alex. Deidre was. And yeah, maybe pulling him made the injury worse, but at least he’s alive. His kids still have a dad.”
“Do you know if he’s doing okay?” Mallory asks, her face pale.
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve done some light social media stalking. He’s a software engineer. Still married. His oldest kid’s in high school. The youngest is in middle school.”
“So, he has a full life,” Mom says.
