The engine’s cab was claustrophobic with firefighters packed inside. This wasn’t what I’d imagined when I made my request of Parks. I’d forgotten firefighters always moved as a unit. I’d gotten caught up in a romantic vision of Liam and I cruising the local roads in a fire engine and talking through our past.

Crazy, I know.

Still, I had to make the best of this. I listened to the men talking to each other. It sounded like we were heading to a traffic accident on the road out of Destiny Falls. Car versus truck.

My stomach clenched. Ever since Mom and Malcolm had been killed in a traffic accident, I’d had a hard time dealing with the emotions that arose whenever I encountered one. If I ever had to detour because of an accident, I’d feel sick, and be compelled to check the news later that day to see if anyone had been seriously hurt. They seemed like such needless causes of death and destruction. A single mistake, a two-second hesitation, could mean the difference between living and not.

Overhead, the siren wailed. A police car was parked across the road, forming a barrier, its lights flashing. The churning in my stomach intensified, and I tasted bile in the back of my throat. Great. Not only an accident, but one with Nate Braddock present. I got the feeling he and Asher were co-presidents of the Kennedy Carter Anti-Fan Club.

The engine stopped, and the firefighters piled out.

“Stay here,” Liam reminded me.

I nodded, too wound up to speak. From here, I had a perfect view of the carnage. It appeared that a sleek rental sedan had been trying to pass a rusted Ford and had a head-on collision with a food-transportation truck traveling in the opposite direction. The sedan’s front end was crushed, and Liam headed straight to it. I could see someone in the driver’s seat, but they weren’t moving. The truck had fared better, although the trailer had swung around, spilling apples across the road. The third vehicle, the Ford, seemed to have been clipped along the driver’s side. Perhaps by the rental car as they tried to avoid the truck.

A woman sat on the side of the road, hovering over a man wearing a blood-soaked shirt. He didn’t seem to be conscious. The woman screamed, and Asher hurried to check for a pulse. He and another paramedic, whom I hadn’t been introduced to, began CPR. The woman started to cry.

My throat constricted. Black spots appeared in my vision. The horror show before me could have come from my worst nightmares.

I forced myself to draw a breath even though it hurt my aching throat. Then another. The spots cleared, although my mind was still spinning.