Claire follows, and before she even has time to put her seat belt on, I speak.

“What are you doing here?”

She pulls off her gloves, finger by finger, until the thirty remaining seconds pass. We watch as Dave’s car peels out of the parking lot and he drives toward us. My breath hitches as he passes us, bobbing his head to some music, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He looks…happy. Like that meeting, whatever it was, replenished some well that he had been yearning to fill.

And he has no idea what’s about to happen. No idea that in a mile he’s going to die. Just like that.

“You and I aren’t that different, Andre,” she finally whispers, forcing the words out. “We both want to do the right thing. We’re both type A people. We both do what we believe is best, consequences be damned.” She turns to me, and her eyes are slightly red. Tears glisten at the edges of her eyes. But they don’t fall. “The difference is, I’ve learned with age that some things cannot be changed. Some things have to happen. And this is one of them. Blake really didn’t put you up to this?”

“No. I promise. I think, if I’d told him, he would’ve been against this as adamantly as you are. He isn’t as dense or contrarian as you think he is. I’m doing this because I think it’s the right thing to do. I don’t think Dave should die. And I don’t think this is the life I was supposed to lead. I’m doing this for a lot of reasons, but they are all my own. And, honestly, I can’t understand why you wouldn’t do this. How are you okay with letting your son die?” I blurt it out before I can stop it. “You’re a time traveler. You can stop things like this. Fuck the rules.”

I know I’ve spoken out of turn by the way she pauses and closes her eyes. I can hear her counting to ten in her head, even if I can’t actually hear it. Mom does the same thing when she’s angry and holding it back.

“No, Andre. I can’t,” she finally says when she opens her eyes.

“You can’t or you won’t?”