Page 51 of When the Storm Breaks
God dammit, Haiyden.
I can’t do this again. She has to be okay.
Easing off the gas, I force myself to focus as I get closer. The sun is long gone, and only my headlights cut through the dark. I scan the road, the shoulders, the trees lining the highway.
Then I see her.
She’s standing next to her car, the hood propped open. My headlights sweep over her, throwing harsh light across the otherwise empty road. She’s leaning against the side, arms wrapped around herself, shaking so hard I can see it from here. Her breath escapes in weak, misty puffs, barely holding shape in the freezing air.
And she’s too close to the woods.
Something twists deep in my chest—a mixture of anger and relief.
I throw the car into park and jump out, my movements quick and messy. She turns at the sound, and the sight of her stops me cold. Her makeup is streaked, dried in smudges, like she ran out of energy to keep crying.
Her lips are fucking blue.
I can see it from here.
How long has she been standing out there?
“What the fuck?” I mutter, barely aware I’ve spoken.
I rip off my coat and stride toward her, wrapping it around her in one swift motion. She barely reacts—just stands there, stiff and frozen, like the cold’s already sunk too deep.
I want her to lean into it. To let it help. To let me help. But she’s so damn cold, it doesn’t even make a difference.
My hands hover near her shoulders, but I hesitate, resisting the urge to shake her—just to get a response, to make sure she’s still in there.
My hands settle on her shoulders, and I guide her gently toward my car. My heart pounds with every step. I can’t handle seeing her like this. Fragile. Quiet. Like she’s barely holding herself together.
I open the passenger door and ease her into the seat, her body stiff, like she doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Like the cold got thelast of her—and now there’s nothing left.
Her teeth chatter so violently it makes my chest ache.
When she’s seated and buckled, I shut the door carefully, resisting the urge to slam it just to let some of this fucking tension out.
By the time I make it around the driver’s side, the anger is clawing its way back up. I yank the door open, drop into the seat, and slam it shut anyway. The sound cracks through the car.
She’s shaking uncontrollably now, her whole body racked with tremors. I reach over and crank the heat as high as it’ll go, ignoring the sweat already beading at the back of my neck.
She won’t look at me. Her head is bowed, shoulders hunched, hugging her arms to her chest like she’s trying to make herself small.
The silence is deafening. Every second she won’t meet my eyes, the angrier I get.
I’m helpless. Fucking helpless.
And I snap.
“What the fuck, Calla?” It comes out harsher than I meant, almost cruel, but I don’t pull it back. My fists clench against my thighs as I force myself to breathe, to steady the uneven beating in my chest.
She jerks like I hit her, like the sound alone cut far deeper than it should have. Then the worst sound I’ve ever heard claws out of her throat.
A loud, weeping sob.
And it cuts me wide fucking open.
I exhale hard, dragging a hand down my face.
