Crashed (Driven, #3)(12)

Andy angles his head to the side and looks over and studies me for a moment. “I fear every time he gets in that car. Every goddamn time … but it’s the only place I see him free of the burden of his past … see him outrun the demons that haunt him.” He squeezes my hand until I look back up to see the sincerity in his eyes. “The only time, that is, until recently. Until I see him talk about, worry about, interact with … you.”

My breath catches, tears well for the first time but don’t fall. After having Max’s mom, Claire, hate me for so long, the unspoken approval from Colton’s father is monumental. I hiccup a breath, trying to contain the tornado of emotions whirling through me.

“I love him.” It’s all I can manage to say. Then it’s all I can think about. I love him, and I might not ever get to really show him now that he’s admitted to feeling the same way about me. And now I stand on the precipice of circumstances so out of my control that I fear I might not ever get the chance to.

Andy’s voice pulls me from my rising panic attack. “Colton told me you encouraged him to find out about his birth mother.”

I look down and draw absent circles on my knee with my fingertip, wary that this conversation can go one of two ways: Andy can be grateful that I’m trying to help his son heal or he can be upset and think I’m trying to drive a wedge between them.

“Thank you for that.” He exhales softly. “I think he’s always been missing a piece and maybe knowing about her will help fill that for him. Just the fact he’s talking about it, asking about it, is a huge step...” he reaches out and places an arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward him so my head rests on his shoulder “...so thank you for helping him find himself in more ways than one.”

I nod my head in acknowledgment, his confession causing words to escape me. We sit together like this for some time, accepting and pulling comfort from each other when all we feel is emptiness inside.





It’s a perfect day. Blue sky overhead, sun warming my cheeks, and not a thought on my mind. The waves crash into the sand with a soothing crescendo, roll after roll. I come here often, the place we had our first official date, because I feel close to him here. A memory, something to hold onto when I can never hold onto him again.


I wrap my arms around my knees and breathe it all in, accepting that sadness will always be a constant ache in my heart and wishing he were here beside me. But at the same time, I know I haven’t felt this at peace since he’s been gone. I might be turning a corner in my grief—at least that’s what the therapist thinks—since it’s been days without the blind panic and strangling screams that consume my thoughts and skew my grip on reality. I think that maybe after all of this time, I might be able to move forward—not on—but forward.

The lone car in the parking lot to my right catches my eye. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the car is parked near where Colton parked the Aston Martin on our first spontaneous outing—the most expensive beach date ever—but I look, my heart hoping what my mind knows is not possible. That it’s him parking the car to come join me.

I turn to look just in time to see a figure walk up to the passenger side and lean over to talk to the driver through the open window. Something about the person causes me to rise from the sand. I shield my eyes from the sun’s glare and study his profile, suddenly feeling that something is off.

Without thinking, I start walking toward the car, my unease increasing with each step. The stranger straightens up and turns to face me for a second, the sun lighting his dark features and my feet falter, breath lost.

My dark angel standing in the light.

“Colton?” My voice is barely a whisper as my brain attempts to comprehend how it’s possible that he’s here. Here with me when I saw them load his unresponsive body on the stretcher, kissed his cold lips one last time before they laid his casket to rest. My heart thunders in my chest, its beat accelerating with each passing second as the hope laced with panic starts to escalate.

And although my voice is so soft, he tilts his head to the side at the sound of his name, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness, lock onto mine. He starts to raise a hand but is distracted momentarily when the passenger door is shoved open. He looks into the car and then back to me, resignation etching the magnificent lines of his face. He hesitantly raises his hand again but this time finishes the wave to me.

I bring my fingertips to my lips as the grief rolling off of him finally reaches across the distance and collides into me, knocks the breath clear out of my lungs. I feel his absolute despair instantly. It rips through my soul like lightning splitting the sky.

And in that instant I know.

“Colton!” I say his name again, but this time my desperate scream pierces through the quiet serenity of the beach. Seagulls fly at the sound but Colton slides into the passenger seat without a second glance and shuts the door.

The car slowly heads toward the parking lot’s exit, and I break out into a full sprint. My lungs burn and legs ache but I’m not fast enough. I’m not going to get there in time and can’t seem to make any progress no matter how fast I run. The car turns to the right, out of the lot onto the empty road, and is angled to head past me on its way south. The blue metallic paint shimmers from the sun’s rays and what I see stops me dead in my tracks.

It feels like forever since I have seen him like this. All-American, wholesome with blue eyes and that easy smile I love all too much. But his eyes never break from their focus on the road ahead.