Make You Mine

I see the broken bodies, the blood. The screams echo in my head. Stop. I do my deep breathing. I remind myself I’m in a different situation. I’m not in Africa. This is not a war zone.

Drew is in South Carolina driving too fast on a rainy night.

In a car in desperate need of new tires.

Fuck.

I have to get a handle on my anxiety. I came here tonight because I didn’t want her alone in that car… I didn’t want her alone with Ralph Stern. Not after the way he put his hands on her body at Ruby’s party, touching her lower back, guiding her around the room like he owned her.

He did it again tonight on the dance floor. She tried to push away from him, and he held tighter. I should have punched him in the face, flattened him right there in front of God and everybody.

My heart beats faster, and I rub the back of my neck, trying to calm down. I need to think rationally. What am I going to do when I catch up to her? I’m going to be sure she made it there safely, then I’m going to turn this truck around and go back to Oakville. I’m going to get in my bed and sleep and keep making progress.

Only, why am I making progress here?

Why am I still in this fucking town if not for her?

It’s not the garage. It’s not Danny.

I’d better figure it out quick, because I’m almost to the house. It’s time to make a decision.

Easing off the accelerator, I allow the truck to cruise around the big, final curve. I remember it so well from when we were kids, driving out here every weekend in the summer. I know it by heart. This curve can be tricky if you take it too fast, and it’s blind. An animal or even a jogger or a biker could be in the path ahead.

My headlights illuminate the pavement, and the first thing I notice are fresh skid marks.

“What the hell?” The words slip from my lips as my throat tightens.

Putting a little more pressure on the brakes, I trace the black marks off the side of the road onto the shoulder and into the ditch.

“No…” The world tilts, and I hit my brakes hard, stopping the truck.

My headlights shine on the rear of the Jag sticking out from a deep ditch.

“Drew!” I shout, flying out of my vehicle, doing my best to breathe through the panic strangling me.

Rain pelts my face, but I rush forward, jerking on the door handle so hard my hand slips off. It’s locked. The top is on, and I have to cup my hands on the windows to peer inside.

“Drew?” I don’t see any blood. I don’t see any broken glass or anything.

Still, these old cars don’t have air bags. She could have hit that ditch and hit her head. She could be wandering in the woods with a concussion or passed out beside a tree in the pouring rain.

My chest seizes at the thought. “Drew!” I shout as loud as I can into the darkness.

I look everywhere, but I don’t see signs of her going into the woods. The grasses aren’t broken, and there are no tracks. I shut off the truck and shove the keys in my pocket, leaving it parked on the shoulder where she went into the ditch. Then I take off on foot toward the house.

“Drew!” I shout as loud as I can, scanning everywhere, the shoulder, the trees, the road ahead, for any signs of her collapsed or injured. “God, no. No…”

I’m having trouble breathing. I feel like my skull is coming apart. If anything happened to her… An image of Danny lying on the sand, empty hazel eyes staring at the sky flashes across my mind, and my stomach grabs.

No.

That cannot happen.

“DREW!” I scream again, running faster toward the house.

The rain drenches me, preventing me from being able to see. I wipe the rivulets off my brow, blotting my eyes with my wet sleeve, trying to avoid falling myself.

The house rises in the n