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I wait for the crosswalk to indicate it’s my turn, and I head toward the parking lot.
Standing in the first space, closest to the street, I wait.
I pull out my phone to see if he sent a text telling me whether he’s going to be late or not, but as I do, I hear a sound. A screech. Tires?
I pull my gaze up, and that’s when I see the car. It looks familiar, barreling its way in my direction. It takes me too long to react because I’m convinced it’s Trent. It looks like his car.
But the car is driving fast. Too fast.
And Trent wouldn’t . . .
I’m standing, almost frozen, and then I am frozen when I realize the car is not slowing down. The car is not slowing down.
I try to move out of the way, but my feet don’t work, and when they finally do, it’s too late.
I’m too late.
36
Trent
* * *
I see it as it happens.
I’m powerless to stop it.
Fear, harsh and vivid, streaks through me.
I’m in my car, half a block away, watching in slow motion as the car heads in her direction.
There is nothing that I can do.
Panic like I have never known before wells in my throat.
Before I can think twice about my actions, I’m throwing my car into park, dashing out of my car, and running.
Chest heaving. Arms pumping.
In front of me is the crumpled body of Payton. My heart lurches in my chest as I pick up my pace to reach her in time.
Her body in an unnatural position.
I drop to the ground beside her, moving closer, but I’m careful not to touch her in a way that could hurt her.
First, I check her pulse.
There.
Then I fish out my phone and dial 911.
When they answer, I rattle off the information.
“Payton. Princess?” I try to see if she is okay.
Her eye cracks open.
“Y-you . . .”
“Shh. It’s okay. Help is on the way.”
“You d-didn’t do this,” she mutters through a cough, and then her eyes close.
“No. Payton. Wake up.” I want to shake her awake, but I don’t. It’s too risky.
Her chest is still moving.
She’s still alive.
I take her hand in mine. Holding it. Rubbing it. Telling her she will be okay. She has to be.
A pool of blood spreads beneath her.
Where the fuck is the ambulance?
How long has it been?
It feels like an eternity as I wait, but then I hear the familiar sirens, and I know they’re almost here.
I continue to speak to Payton.
She doesn’t answer, but I feel her pulse on her wrist. She is still alive.
Her pulse is still there.
I count its beats as I wait. Pray with each one that she’s okay.
That she doesn’t leave me.
It doesn’t take long before the paramedics are rushing over.
They start to work on her.
And the next thing I know, they are lifting her onto a stretcher, then rolling her into the ambulance.
By the time I realize what’s happening, they are gone and off to the hospital.
Now that I’m alone, her words ring back in my ears.
“You didn’t do this.”
Like a punch to my gut. It feels like a brick has been placed on my chest. She knows it wasn’t me. Despite everything I’ve done to her in the past.
She trusts me enough to know I would never hurt her.
From where I am still sitting on the ground, my gaze spots the blood.
The car was similar to mine.
I told her to meet me here.
Someone wanted her to think it was me.
Paul?
But whoever it was didn’t succeed.
Payton saw through the ruse.
Because to her, I’m more than a criminal. I’m more than the rich playboy who skirts the law.
She sees past every wall I ever erected, and somehow, despite what I put her through, she sees the real me.
The man who feels heartbroken right now for every mistake I made with Payton.
It feels like I’m free-falling at the realization.
“Excuse me,” someone says from above. I look to see a campus security guard standing above me. “I’m going to need to take your statement.”
“I’m going to the hospital.” I don’t have the time for this shit, not when Payton needs me, but I know if I don’t cooperate, campus security will tell the cops, and then I won’t be able to be with Payton. “A car, black. It looked like mine . . .” I point at my car where it’s still parked. “It wasn’t the same make or model, but it certainly looked like it was. It barreled into her. Listen, that’s all I know right now. But I will find out who it was.” I reach into my pocket, grab my wallet, and then pull out a card. “Here’s what I need. I need you to send me the footage from the security cameras in the area.”
“I can’t—”
“Trust me, you can. Send everything for the incident.”
