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“How ya doin’, darlin’?”
“Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll help with the bags.
Mom stops me. “I got it.” Then she follows Baja into the house.
Luca takes my hand and leads me to where my car is parked. “Stay behind Baja, and I’ll fall behind you.”
“Are you going to explain to me what’s going on?” I ask.
“We’ll talk about it later, babe. I want to get you and your mom back to the clubhouse.”
“All right,” I reluctantly agree. A moment later, Baja and Mom emerge from the house with our bags in tow.
Baja places our suitcases in the trunk. “Ready, brother?”
Luca tips his head. “Let’s hit the road.” Then he turns back to me. “No stops. Straight to the clubhouse.”
I climb behind the wheel and wait for Baja to pull out. When I fall in behind him, Luca takes up the rear. We pass through town, and the streets are nearly empty, given it’s the middle of the night.
“You’re being quiet.” I glance to my right, noticing my mom’s mood.
“I’m just a little nervous to meet your friends.” She shrugs. “I know I shouldn’t care what people think, but…” She leaves her sentence hanging.
Her confession breaks my heart. “Mom, my friends will love you. You don’t know them, but I can say with absolute certainty you won’t receive any judgment from Sage, Juniper, or the club. They’re not like that.”
Mom smiles. “If they are anything like your Luca, then I’m sure I have nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t.” I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I promise.”
As we approach a traffic light, I place both hands back on the wheel. I’m careful to keep a safe distance between me and Baja, so I follow suit when I see his brake lights light up. The traffic light changes from yellow to red as I press my foot down on the brake. Nothing happens.
“What the hell!?” I start to panic. I press the brake again, and nothing happens. “Oh my god! The brakes are out!”
“What!” Mom cries out.
My vision tunnels and blood rushes to my ears momentarily, causing a buzzing noise. I only have a split second to think, and at the last minute, I jerk hard on the wheel to keep from crashing into the back of Baja’s motorbike.
Mom braces her palms on the dash and screams out my name. I look over my shoulder to see Luca and Baja racing behind me. I try the brake again, and still nothing.
“What do I do?” I begin to panic.
Cold sweat breaks out on my face, and my heart feels lodged in my throat. I snap my head to the right and look out my window. Luca has caught up and is riding along beside me. He motions for me to roll the window down.
My hands shake as I fumble with the power window switch on the door panel. I can’t stop the tears streaming down my face when I scream at him, “No brakes!”
Luca shakes his head to say he can’t hear me, so I yell again, louder this time.
“No brakes!”
This time I know he heard me because Luca’s face pales. My eyes connect with his in a silent plea.
I need him to tell me what to do. He turns away from me and looks at the road before us. In slow motion, I watch what only can be described as panic wash over him. I follow his line of sight. There’s a semi-truck on the road in front of me. For as long as I live, I will never forget the fear in my mom’s voice as she screams my name.
You always hear people talk about traumatic experiences and how they happen so fast that your brain doesn’t have time to process them. Well, that is not the case for me. For the second time tonight, I make a split decision.
To avoid driving my car into the back end of the semi-truck and to avoid Luca, who is on my left, I turn my steering wheel to the right. My response does not come soon enough because my left front fender clips the back corner of the semi, sending my car to the side of the road. We tear through brush as the car does a complete one-eighty, kicking up dirt and dust.
Through the chaos, my mom somehow manages to unbuckle her seatbelt and throw her body across the console to shield me from the broken glass and the debris flying in from my window.
