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The car hits the bottom with a soft thud, stirring up silt and debris. I blink as her image begins to blur the farther up she goes, then completely disappears from my line of sight.
I attempt to push myself out just enough to make sure she made it to the surface. But I’m not strong enough to lift the weight of my skirt.
If I could, I’d snort at the irony of it. I’m going to die in this wedding gown I didn’t even like but chose because it was so different from the one I wore five years ago. I considered that dress a death sentence, yet this is the one that’s actually ending my life.
Selfishly, I wonder if I’ll be buried in this gown and hate the idea that I’d be tied to Peter that way. Sure, I was going to marry him, but even he knows I don’t love him.
Then as my world begins to dim, the edges of my vision go black and my will weakens until another thought flitters through my mind. The memory of those words I spoke so long ago.
When I die, I want the last face I see to be yours.
My oxygen-deprived brain conjures up the image of Rowan, appearing so much the way I remember, looking in through the car window. Even with the sunlight drowned out, I can make out his features—his masculine jaw and brows, the curve of his mouth, and intensity of his blue eyes—all framed by a halo of golden hair. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was an angel, come to take my soul.
But I do know better. I know he’s nothing but a figment of my imagination when he reaches in and wraps an arm around my waist, bringing me to him as if I’m light as a feather. And I know he’s not really here, even though he feels solid and warm when I lay my cheek against his chest and shut my lids.
He’s nothing more than my dying wish come true.
But there’s a reason they say be careful what you wish for. I’m about to find out what that is.
2
LOUISA
It’s all over in a split second. At least, it feels that way to me. One moment, I’m underwater, my lungs on fire as I see the image of Rowan appear before me. The next, I’m on my back, sucking in shallow, painful breaths.
“We’ve got a pulse!” someone shouts near me. I’m turned onto my side as I begin to cough, and warm, thick fluid pours from my throat.
My body begins to tremble uncontrollably, until I’m wrapped in something warm and hard. A man. I’m pressed against a man.
A woman is crying nearby, her sobs heartbreaking. Mom?
I try to look toward her, but when I open my eyes, the light nearly blinds me. Everything is bright. Much too bright.
“Oh God, please tell me she’ll be all right. Please!”
“Take her to the car,” the man holding me says in a voice made of pure gravel.
The heat is suddenly turned up a hundred degrees as I recognize that tone because I’ve heard it so many times in my dreams. I force my lids open and stare up at the man holding me in his strong arms. Deep-blue eyes stare back at me, narrowed, intense, and worried. And beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
Rowan.
“Did I die?” My question comes out laced with extreme confusion because that’s exactly what I am. Confused.
Why is he hovering over me with that worried expression as he takes me in the way he did the day he rescued me from that lake so long ago?
I wonder if this an out-of-body experience? Maybe a memory. My life flashing before my eyes.
That’s when I notice the fine lines in his face, along with a few gray strands blended into his blond hair and the stubble on his cheeks. It’s Rowan but an older version of him.
I reach up and touch him. “I don’t understand.”
“Your car went into the lake. I pulled you out.”
All at once, the events of the day hit me like a sledgehammer—the drive to the church, David changing directions, the motorcycle chasing us, the crash into the water. Me pushing my mother out but unable to save myself because of that fucking dress.
“Let me go or you’ll regret it. I want to see my daughter,” Mom says a short distance away. Then her soft hand takes mine and she kneels by my side. She peers down at me, her cheeks tear streaked. “My Lulu?”
“Mom? What happened?” As the fog in my mind begins to clear, I notice the blood streaming from a gash on her temple and dripping down to her jaw. “You’re hurt.”
