Page 12 of Promise

“However, I’ll be back tomorrow so we can talk.”

He steps toward me again, and this time I hold my ground, not moving back at the suddenness of his approach, not shifting to the side to allow him to pass.

He pauses next to me, the heat of his arm warming my bare shoulder. A spark tickles my skin. One I dismiss as familiarity. I’ve known this man most of my life and have . . . had been in love with him for almost two decades. Been his wife. But not anymore.

Still, I’m dizzy from the erratic rhythm of my heart, like I’ve twirled in place too many times. My pulse is so strong, I’m certain Mirabelle can feel it where her head nestles near the side of my neck. Even Dart might be able to detect the ragged beat.

Watching as his own chest rises and falls with staggered breaths as he stands beside me, I imagine chaos running rampant inside his chest as well.

“We’ll work this out,” he mutters, side-eyeing Mirabelle.

Work what out? I want to shout, but he steps toward the front door faster than the words can peel off my tongue.

There’s nothing left to work out.

It’s been three years. Over one thousand days and nights of working to get him out of my system.

But if he’s truly gone, why do I suddenly feel a scratch in my throat and an itch along my skin?

Dart walks out the front door, shuts it softly behind him, and sets the LOCK button on the automated keypad, explaining how he got in here, but not why he is here.

“I knew I should have changed the code,” I grumble aloud, also knowing why I didn’t.

But that’s a thought for another day.

For now, I’m left wondering why my heart feels like it is tearing in two again, watching him walk out.

5

[Dart]

Parking along Dock Street in Rogue River, I sit and stare out the windshield at the darkened town. The lights outside The Ferryman’s Rest. The white-covered dock, a town landmark, in the distance. The river flowing like black ink in the background.

Everything looks the same and yet completely different.

Flexing my fingers over the steering wheel, I watch them tremble. Aftershocks of the accident, along with the black and blue bruises on my ribs, and the concussion diagnosis. I shouldn’t have driven such a long distance, but I’d waited as long as I could to get here.

The accident comes back to me again, like a slow-moving reel in my head.

The crash came out of nowhere.

A blink-and-you-miss-it-mistake at nearly 190 miles per hour.

Mid-pack, my car caught a faint tap to the left rear as I surged into turn three. The back-end snaps loose, the tires wailed across the asphalt with a scream swallowed by the roar of engines. I fought the wheel, but the car was already out of my control, sliding sideways, then hooking hard as the tires bit again.

The impact was violent.

The front end slammed into the outside wall, folding the hood upward and sending a shock through the chassis like a hammer blow. The car ricocheted, spinning across the track in a cloud of smoke and debris. Another hit followed, this time on the right side, steel and SAFER barrier grinding together in a shower of sparks that lit the grandstands. For a breathless second, the car lifted, all four tires skimming above the surface before crashing back down and coming to rest against the wall.

Silence—then the hiss of steam and the crackle of the radio.

In the driver’s seat, I sat stunned, heart pounding, ears ringing, nose filled with the smell of burnt rubber. The safety straps had done their job, holding me tight. My head throbbed from the force of the impact, and my hands trembled as I flexed my fingers, testing myself piece by piece. Pain flared in my shoulder and ribs, sharp but manageable.

I was hurt—but I was alive.

In an instant, a beautiful image flashed in my mind. Hair, long and blonde. Eyes deep wells of darkness, and yet still a beacon. Face round, smile wide, laughter always on her tongue.

Trinity.