Well. Could I have screwed up in a more spectacular way? But it’s not just me, is it? After we had sex and I came back from the shop, he seemed…what? Angry. Resentful. Was that just because he was worried about me—me going out, the sleeping pills, the messages? This whole thing seems like more than a spontaneous mistake, almost like it was planned, staged. Which is ridiculous, isn’t it? It was me who asked for a lift, me who invited him here, me who kissed him. But…

I know it’s my paranoia, but the Max who was in my flat last night—the Max standing in my kitchen right now—it’s not the Max I remember. It’s not the Max I thought I knew.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

He’s tense on the drive to the station, not talking. I look across at him and see what Sophie saw last night—a well-groomed stranger. I close my eyes. Despite the amount of sleep I got last night, I’m still exhausted. I feel myself drifting and force my eyes back open.

I look back at the road and that’s when Dean House stutters into view—it’s there, right in the road, right in front of us, and someone’s running out of it—toward the car, arms waving. It’s Bella, fear on her face. And behind her, there’s someone else—someone—

“Look out!” I shout as Bella runs into the road, and I reach to grab the steering wheel.

The car swerves, Max pulls hard on the steering wheel and the car lurches back to the left. There’s an awful screeching, grinding noise and the car spins and turns.

Oh God, oh God, I don’t want to die.

I wake up on a stretcher in a hospital corridor. Max is standing next to me, a bruise on his forehead but otherwise okay.

“What happened?” I say, my voice croaky.

“There was an accident—you grabbed the steering wheel and the car crashed, don’t you remember?”

I wince and close my eyes. Oh God. “I’m like the grim reaper version of King Midas—everyone I touch dies.”

“I’m not dead.”

I look at his bruised face. “I did my bloody best, though, didn’t I? You could have died.”

“It was an accident.”

I look away. I could have killed him. I could have killed him and me. If I close my eyes I can see it again—the house looming up in front of me, Bella in front of the car, shadowed by the trees. Was I asleep when I saw it? Had I drifted into a dream? Or was it a memory—someone chased Bella out of the house. That’s what made me reach for the steering wheel. Someone was chasing her right into the path of the car.