Page 23 of Chasing Amanda

“I try not to think about God.”

“That’s a strange thing to say.”

She looked down, picked at some lint on her black coat.

“Any particular reason?”

She sighed. “When I was fifteen, I was in a pretty terrible car accident.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “Want to tell me about it?”

She took a few steps before she spoke, her focus on the ground. “I was with my best friend and her family, sitting in the backseat between her and her brother. A truck lost control and hit us.”

Her words were automatic, as if she’d told the story a million times, or maybe she was trying to keep her emotions in check. His body tensed as he waited for the rest. “What happened?”

“The truck driver died. My friend and her family died. I was the only survivor.”

Oh, man. And here he’d thought her too young to understand loss. He faced her. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

She crossed her arms and looked beyond him, out to sea. “It changed everything, you know? I didn’t understand why I didn’t die too. I thought maybe God had spared me for a reason, but then…”

Her voice trailed. He desperately wished he could read her mind. “Please tell me.”

She shook her head. “I guess it affected me. I started to think my plan to be a chef was stupid, like I had to do something more worthwhile with my life. Be a nurse or something. But I can’t stand the sight of blood, and I have few skills outside the kitchen.” She tried to smile as if it didn’t matter, but tears dripped down her face.

He brushed them away with his fingertip, then stroked her hair. “Go on.”

She looked at the ground. “I was messed up. I went to see a shrink. Did some really stupid things. I wanted to understand, to make it mean something. But…but it didn’t. It doesn’t. I can’t be… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. I gave up trying to figure it out. Gave up on God. If there is a God, He let my best friend die. He let all those people die. He let my childhood die.”

Wow. He didn’t know what to say. Everything that came to mind sounded stupid, so he just took her hands and squeezed.

She looked up, and her eyes widened. “I can’t believe I just told you that.” Her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. “I never tell that story. Sherri doesn’t even know. Carl doesn’t. Not even my roommate. What’s wrong with me?” She pulled a hand away and swiped at fresh tears. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know where you live or what you do or where you went to school, and here I am, baring my soul. You probably think I’m crazy.”

Crazy?

No.

Wounded. And precious and hurt and vulnerable and young and…

And wow, he wanted to kiss her.

Don’t do it. But he leaned forward. “I think you’re beautiful.” He brushed his lips against hers.

The slightest touch, and… aw, man. He shouldn’t have done that.

Electricity zinged through him. Power. Or maybe it was weakness.

She gasped. But she didn’t back away.

No. She leaned in.

He kissed her again, tasting her tears.

She slid her hands over his shoulders, her fingers sliding against the back of his neck.

He groaned—aloud? He had no idea as he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. Closer, diving in. Tasting everything he’d always wanted. Everything he’d never known he was missing.

Too soon, but somehow also too late, he forced himself to stop.