1. BACK TO ME - ALEX

Another drop of sweat crawled down my nose like a spider. In the stifling air of the trunk, I struggled to draw each breath. Perspiration pooled at my temples, irritating, flushing my cheeks with too much heat. I wiped the dampness on my sleeve. The vehicle swayed with the road, and I curled into a ball with a groan. At some point, the hum of the highway turned to gravel, then to a bumpy ride that rocked me back and forth. I shot an arm out to steady myself, and my belly protested the smothering heat and swerving motion. Chunks of what I’d eaten for dinner erupted from my mouth, souring the air. I scooted away so my cheek wouldn’t smear in it.

Bump, bump, sway. Oh God…taking in shallow breaths didn’t help. The air was too thick, and the overwhelming odor of vomit made me heave again, but my stomach had nothing left to purge. A few minutes later the car jerked to a stop and the engine shut off. The heavy thump-thump-thump of feet on gravel pounded through ears trained to recognize and dread that purposeful gait. When Zach lifted the lid, the black night engulfed him, yet I sensed the fury seeping from his being.

He grabbed my hair, angled my head back, and thrust a bottle against my lips. “Drink.”

My mouth resembled the consistency of sandpaper, so I didn’t hesitate. I clutched it, both hands covering his, and sucked down every last bit. Spent of energy, I dropped my head to the bed of the trunk, right into the expelled contents of my stomach.

“You’ve reached a new low, Lex. You’re lying in your own puke.” As I inched away from the vomit, he retreated a step. “Fuck. I’ve reached a new low. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Everyone thinks you’re dead. I thought you were dead!” Hands yanking at his mussed up brown strands, he began to pace. His clothing clung to his body, as if still damp from the river.

Rafe’s face infiltrated my mind, and I blinked to hold back the hot sting of tears. Devastation pressed on my breastbone, coiling around me and tightening until I couldn’t move or speak. I tried shaking his image from my brain, but it stuck like tar.

I didn’t want to think or feel.

Doing either would crush me, and I couldn’t afford to break down. Not yet. I knew I would eventually, when I could no longer hold off the anguish strangling my wind pipe. When I had no choice but to confront the truth poking my insides with the burn of a hot fireplace poker.

Rafe was gone.