Page 4 of Accidentally Mine
“Are you sure?”She wrinkled her nose.“Because everything isnotfine.”
Well, not fine.But what could I do?“Stop being a downer about this, Clau.You’re always telling me that my attitude’s become negative.”
“It has.You used to be so positive.Upbeat.Now you’re like a grouch.”
Ernest was nodding in the rearview mirror.
I loved them both, but they didn’t understand.Couldn’t understand why, every now and then, I wanted to tell the world to fuck off.I suppressed a deep urge to give them the double middle finger.Instead, I snapped, “I’m working with half a fucking head.Give me a break.”
She gave me a hurt look.“Brent—”
“Okay.You say I’m so negative.So here’s the bright side.It’s not getting worse.Let’s drop it.”I shot her aright nowlook.
My big sister was stubborn as hell and not scared of my tactics.She pursed her lips, and of course, did not drop it.“How are you sleeping?”
I exhaled slowly, ignoring her question.Because the answer was simple.Not well.
“Have you been having that dream anymore?”
I rolled my eyes.
It wasn’t a dream.It was a nightmare, a bona fide night-sweats, heart-palpitating, body-thrashing nightmare.Doc said it was from the medication I took for insomnia and depression, but I needed the damn meds, so I had to put up with it.I wasn’t sure what part of the dream was real—if any—and what was a product of my imagination.But I knew I would never be able to rid myself of those haunting turquoise eyes that made an appearance each time, as long as I lived.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Thanks for your concern, Mom, but I’m okay.”When I called her Mom, it was the final signal to cut it out.
She got the message loud and clear and threw herself back against the seat, crossing her arms in defeat.
Guilt stabbed my gut at once.
“Hey.Clau,” I said, tapping her foot with my own.“I’m good.Seriously.”
She gave me a sad smile.“I just worry about you, nerdboy.That dream really had you upset.”
Nerdboy.Her sweet little term of endearment for me, which told me she’d forgiven me once again, no matter that I was brutal to her when my negativity took over.
“It wasn’t upsetting me until you mentioned it,” I assured her, looking out the window again as downtown Boston flew by.
Lights flashed overhead, and a car horn blared.In an instant, I was suddenly thrown back to that night.The night my life changed.
I was in my Porsche, driving to my Beacon Hill brownstone overlooking the Public Gardens.I was tired after another long stint burning the midnight oil at the McKee Technologies headquarters at Brookline.Listening to Guns N’ Roses to stay awake and watching fog roll in off the bay.Just another night.Nothing on my mind but work, work, and more work, namely figuring out the timeline for the trials of the newest Key Scanner model.
The fog thickened, knocking visibility to only a few feet in front of the windshield.No problem.If there was a road I knew like the back of my hand, it was the Pike, since I’d driven it every day of my life for the past five years.Straight shot into the city and usually choked with traffic, the road was empty now.Not another car to be seen.
Turning on the windshield wipers, I leaned forward, squinting and feeling like I was driving into a solid gray wall.The wipers streaked the glass, and thick vapor swirled as it parted to allow the car to slip through, blurring my vision further.A sign on the side of the road blinked “Reduce Speed.”I took my foot off the accelerator, cruised to fifty miles per hour.Straining to see past the headlights of cars passing in the other direction, I checked the clock on the dash.After one a.m.
My eyes were off the road for a blink, a flash, and everything changed.
The Porsche emerged from under an overpass.The curtain of fog parted.Headlights.Massive ones, in my lane, bearing down on me.
At first, I thought it was just my eyes playing a trick on me, but as the fog parted, I realized the tractor trailer was angled at an unnatural position across the three lanes of highway in front of me.
Wrong.That was wrong.
In slow motion, I pulled my foot totally off the accelerator and moved it to the brake.A frisson of fear climbed up the back of my neck.
Rain scattered through the air.But it was white.Thick, more like hail.No, not rain.Not hail, either.It sprayed my car, pinging off the windshield.Crumbled concrete.Fucking hell.The truck had come from the other side.It had hopped the median, crushing the concrete like a paper cup.
I jammed my foot on the brake.That truck wasn’t just sitting there, still.No, it was in motion.Jackknifing.Slipping across the road, tires screeching, its giant container and wheels juddering in uncontrolled motion, thundering across the road.
