I shouldn’t have seen her. I know that.

Bad luck. Tradition. Whatever people want to call it.

But when she stepped out of the bedroom in that dress, lace hugging her ribs, soft fabric spilling to the floor like something holy, I forgot every superstition I’ve ever pretended to respect.

She looked at me like she’d been caught.

When I looked at her, heart-stopping doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I can still see the way her fingers trembled at the zipper. The way she yelled, “You weren’t supposed to see!”

I wasn’t.

But I did.

And now all I can think about is watching her walk toward me down that aisle. Watching her choose me in front of everyone. Watching her become mine, officially.

Pizza first. Then forever. I kiss her temple before I leave. Tell her I’ll be right back.

“I’ll be back!” I tell my parents and Mila as I walk out the door.

The road is clear. The sky is that bruised blue just before night fully swallows it. I’m five minutes from the pizza place when a tractor-trailer hauling logs pulls out ahead of me from a side road.

Too wide. Too slow.

I hit the brakes instinctively.

The trucker hits a pothole and begins to fishtail. For a second, I think it’s going to tip. My heart punches against my ribs.

Then it corrects, and I let out a breath.

We both straighten out and pick up speed to match the other cars on the highway. Everything settles.

I think back to Olivia, the way her dress caught the light. 

In an instant, I see it before I understand it.

The chain wrapped tight around the logs snaps.

A single metallic crack.

Then slack.

One of the logs shifts. Rolls.

There’s a strange, detached part of my brain that thinks, this is something from a movie.

As if I’m watching from outside my own body.

The log jolts free and, with the momentum of the truck, comes flying towards me.

I slam the brakes. 

The log crashes through my windshield like a missile. Glass implodes, slicing at my face. Wood splinters. Something punches into my chest, hot and violent.

I feel it before I process it.

Pressure.

Then fire.

Then nothing but the sound of my own breath being ripped out of me.

I try to grip the steering wheel. My hands are slick. The truck jerks sideways. Tires scream.

The world flips.

Metal groans. The cab rolls. My head snaps against something hard.

There’s dirt in my mouth.

Silence.

Everything goes black.

~

I hear voices.

“Sir, don’t move.”

I’m not trying to… am I?

My eyes won’t open. My limbs won’t respond.

Is that blood on the windshield?

Is that blood on my hands?

I can’t tell if I’m thinking or seeing.

Someone’s pulling at me. Hands everywhere. Cold air. Pressure on my chest.

“Stay with us!”

Stay.

I have to stay.

Someone grabs my phone.

“No ID.”

“Call the last number.”

No.

No, don’t call her like this, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.

~

Sirens.

I’m in an ambulance.

It smells sterile and metallic.

A paramedic is above me, voice sharp but steady.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Of course, I can tell you my name. Liam Rey.

“Sir, do you know where you are?”

With Olivia. I’m with Olivia.

A pause. I’m talking. Why aren’t they acknowledging my answers?

Then louder voices.

“BP’s dropping.”

“Come on, stay with me!”

The paramedic’s hand presses harder against my chest.

“Don’t you quit on me!”

I’m not quitting.

I hear it before I feel it.

“We’re losing him!”

The world tears open.

Then—

Black.

~

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The sound is slow. Rhythmic. Mechanical.

I try to open my eyes.

Nothing.

My body feels submerged in something thick and endless. When I try to move, it feels like I’m running in molasses. 

Then I hear her.

My Olivia.

Her voice is raw. Scraped thin.

“You have to wake up,” she whispers.

Every part of me surges toward that sound.

I try to move my fingers.

Nothing.

“I can’t do this without you.”

You won’t have to. I’m right here!

I try to scream it.

The machine beside me keeps beeping.

“Stay with me. Our story isn’t done yet. We have a daughter who needs you. I need you.” She kisses my hand; I can feel her tears dripping onto my skin.

My chest aches.

Not from the wood.

From her. I can feel her getting up. I don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like seconds, but that can’t be right. 

“I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.” She says to me. I swear, I blink and she’s speaking again, saying something that splits me completely open.

“Guess what,” she whispers. “We’re officially parents.” Her tears once again soak into my skin, and her words echo in the black void I’m in.

Adopted.

Mila.

My daughter. Our daughter.

My girls.

I try to move.

I try to sit up.

I try to rip myself back into reality.

I want to tell her I’m so happy. I want to tell her that I love her. I want to wrap her in my arms and give her a fucking kiss.

Nothing in me responds.

The machine keeps beeping.

The doctor speaks again, quieter now.

There’s another voice in the room. A doctor.

“We need to discuss options.”

Options?

“There’s no brain activity.”

No.

No.

I am here.

I am thinking.

I am listening.

“I’m right here!” I try to shout.

The darkness swallows the words.

Olivia makes a broken sound I’ve never heard from her before.

It’s the sound of something shattering.

“You need to consider what he would’ve wanted.”

What I would have wanted?

I would have wanted to walk her down the aisle.

I would have wanted to watch Mila grow up.

I would have wanted forever with Olivia.

“Don’t you dare let me go!” I scream into the dark.

No one hears me.