Page 128 of Past the Broken Bridges

Not knowing what else to do, I run over and open the passenger door as Dawson starts the truck up. I know Dixie is upset, so she doesn’t mean any harm. She’d never wish ill will on anybody. And I feel horrible for leaving her here alone, but Dawson is clearly not in his right mind.

He seems surprised as he puts the truck into drive and takes off right as I close the door behind me.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” I tell him, voice pleading. “Pull over and we can call Banks. Then we can get an Uber and come back for the truck tomorrow.”

Whatever logic I throw at him doesn’t seem to work. He keeps driving, making my nerves soar. In a grumbly tone and slurring words, he says, “You shouldn’t have gotten in if you didn’t want to come, Sawyer. I don’t know why you bothered.”

He doesn’t? “Because we’re friends.”

Dawson has the audacity to snort. “Are we?”

I frown, grabbing the seat belt and buckling myself in, keeping a firm grip on the part that goes across my chest. “We’ve nevernotbeen. You’re the one who started distancing yourself from everybody.”

His eyes snap to me. “Becauseyoustarted fucking my best friend.”

“Dawson!” I squeak when the truck veers off the road.He barely corrects it before we hit a parked car. Letting out a shaky breath, I ease into the seat. “You’re right. I do like Banks. I’m sorry if that upsets you. He’s just…” I shrug, not knowing what to say to make this better. “I guess he was what I thought I needed at the time. I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. Banks didn’t either. He cares about you. No matter what fight you two are going through, he’d want you to get home safe.”

He white-knuckles the steering wheel, his jaw grinding. “He said he wouldn’t do this again. Desiree chose him too. He doesn’t care.”

Scrubbing my eyes, I try redirecting the conversation to one less hostile. “I’m the one who pushed for this,” I reason. “If you’re going to be mad at somebody, be mad at me. I deserve it. Not him.”

For a moment, he seems contemplative. “If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have. I’m never picked first. I’m too fucked up.”

“It’s not too late to fix things.”

His murmured words hit me all too well: “For some of us, it is.”

It’s a sad truth, but I choose not to press him on it. “Who were those guys back there?”

“None of your business.”

I heard one of them mention Marco, who was the person responsible for Dawson’s initial use. “I want to help you. Let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help. I don’t want B-Banks’s help. I don’t wantanybody.” His voice rises. “Can’t you fucking see that, Sawyer? Some of us are in too deep for help!”

His driving becomes more erratic as his head starts bobbing. When I see his nose bleeding, panic seeps in. “Fine.You don’t need me or anybody else. But can you pull over now? Your nose is bleeding, and you’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m f-fine.” His eyes get heavy.

“Dawson?”

Once again, his eyes go to mine. “I told y-you that you s-shouldn’t have gotten in if you didn’t want to—”

Suddenly, headlights flash into the windshield, blinding me as I feel the truck move into the opposite lane. “Dawson, watch—”

The loud screech of bending metal is all I can hear. Not Dawson. Not my own screams as we start to slide and roll.

There’s chaos as my body gets tossed brutally until something heavy crashes into me. It feels like it goes on forever before everything stops.

And then there’s nothing but my ears ringing.

My eyes get heavy.

Then I hear a voice.

My mother’s.

I have a horrible feeling.

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