Crashed(book three)(132)

Hmm.

I kind of laugh as delirium takes over. As I look down to see that I’m not sitting in urine.

No.

But why is the floor covered in blood?

“Colton!” I call, but I’m so weak I know my voice isn’t loud enough.

I’m floating and it’s so warm and I’m so tired. I close my eyes and smile because I see Colton’s face.

So handsome.

All mine.

I feel sleep start to pull on me—my mind, my body, my soul—and I let its lethargic fingers begin to win the tug-of-war.

And right before it takes me, I understand the why, but not the how.

Oh, Colton.

I’m sorry, Colton.

Darkness threatens to pull me under its clutches.

Please don’t hate me.

I have nothing left to resist its smothering blackness.

I love you.

Spiderman. Batm—





The sound of the gunshot startles me awake. I spring up in bed and have to catch my breath as I tell myself it’s all over. Just a goddamn nightmare. The f*cking bastard is dead and got what he deserved. Zander is fine. Rylee is fine.


But something’s off. Still not right.

“Say something I’m giving up on you …” I jolt from the panic I feel from hearing the lyrics as they pass through the overhead speakers. Shit. I forgot to turn them off last night. Is that what scared the f*ck out of me? I scrub my hands over my face trying to snap me from my sleep-induced haze.

That had to have been it.

“… I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you …”

I reach for the control on the nightstand to shut the music off. And then I hear it again, the sound that I’m sure was what woke me up. “Bax?” I call out into the room as I realize Ry’s side of the bed is empty. He whimpers again. “Fuckin’ A, Bax! You really have to take a piss now?” I say to him as I place my feet on the floor and stand, waiting for a second to steady myself and thank f*cking God this is getting easier because I’m sick of feeling like an eighty-year-old man every time I stand.

I immediately look out toward the top of the stairs to see if any lights are on downstairs and the hairs on the back of my f*cking neck stand up when it’s dark as f*ck. Baxter whimpers again. “Relax, dude. I’m coming!” I take a few steps toward the bathroom and feel a bit of relief when I see the sliver of light around the closed door to the toilet room. Jesus, Donavan, chill the f*ck out, she’s fine. No need to go smothering her and shit just because I’m still freaked the f*ck out.

Baxter whimpers again and I realize he’s in the bathroom too. What the f*ck? The dog’s licked his balls one too many times and is going crazy. “Leave her alone, Bax! She doesn’t feel good. I’ll take you out.” I walk into the bathroom, knowing he’s not going to come with me unless I grab his collar. I yell a hushed curse trying to get him to obey but he doesn’t move. I’m f*cking beat and not in the mood to deal with his stubborn ass. I slip on the water on the floor and my temper ignites. “Quit drinking the goddamn water and you won’t have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the f*cking night!” I take another step and slip and I’m f*cking pissed. I’ve had it right now and am having trouble keeping my cool.

Baxter whimpers again at the bathroom door and when I reach it, I rap my knuckle against it. “You okay, Ry?” Silence. What the f*ck? “Ry? You okay?”

It’s a split f*cking second of time between my last word and the door flinging open but I swear to God it feels like a lifetime. So many thoughts—a f*cking million of them fly through my mind, like at the start of a race—but the one I always block out, the one that I never let control me, owns every f*cking part of me now.