Page 48 of The Fast Lane

Abe’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel. “Is that such a great idea?”

“See? Even you!” I’d slumped in my seat.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Sure. You can drive.”

“Really?”

“Come on,” he’d said with conviction.

Abe had never been good at saying no to me the way Frankie and Cal were. I’d eagerly slid behind the wheel of the car. Since it was November, the sun had long since set and minutes after I took over, rain began to pelt the car. I’d only had a few weeks of driving with my license before the first seizure. I was not, by any means, an experienced driver. Add in my mood, the chilly darkness of an early winter evening, the rain, the dark country road, the dangerous and intoxicating feeling of doing something I knew I shouldn’t, all formed the perfect storm.

That’s when I had the seizure.

The second before it started, I’d been hit with a wave of dizziness and then nothing. I’d woken to Abe yelling my name and shaking me so hard my teeth rattled.

My stomach had roiled, my vision was blurred and unfocused; I couldn’t form words, let alone sentences. I hadn’t been sure where I was, only that my head hurt, and I was going to puke any second.

Abe hadn’t flinched when I’d done just that a second later, all over him. “Oh, hell, Ali. You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

I’d puked again and fallen back against the seat, the tinny, metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I’d bitten my tongue.

“You had a seizure.” Abe’s voice had sounded frantic. “We…uh, you ran into a tree.”

Everything that happened next were snapshots I’d later have to piece together. Abe getting out of the car, pulling me out, and propping me against a nearby tree. EMS arriving, my parents right behind them. My father yelling at Abe in the background. A trip to the hospital in the ambulance. My mother’s tearful face. Doctors. Blood draws and vital checks. The bone-deep exhaustion that lasted for hours after a seizure.

By the time I’d made it home in the wee hours of the morning, the house had been silent. Mom had helped to get me settled in bed. When I’d woken the next morning, Abe was gone. The note he’d slipped under the door said he’d miss me, and he’d written, “Don’t worry about the accident. I told Dad I was driving.”

I’d carried that secret with me for eleven long years, gotten so close to telling my parents the truth and then swallowing the words at the last minute. It wasn’t just that I’d caused the accident, it was the reason for the accident, that I’d been driving when I knew I shouldn’t be. It was that Mom would never let me out of her sight again if she knew. But mostly, it was because I was a coward.

Theo returned, pulling me from my memories. He stopped in front of me, his brow furrowed, and laid a hand on my knee. “Hey, you okay?”

“Do you think Abe will come to the wedding?” I worried my bottom lip.

“I know he misses you and your brothers and mom. Even your dad.”

“He’s told you that?”

He hesitated, as though he were debating what to say. “I’ve visited him a few times. Here, in Colorado. We’ve talked a lot about the whole situation.”

“You’ve visited him?” I crossed my arms over my chest. A surprisingly sharp zing of pain sliced through my heart.

“In the summers. Sometimes I’ll fly out for a long weekend.”

“You’ve never said anything.”

He gave me a weary look. “I didn’t want to put myself between him and your parents. Abe’s my best friend and your parents are like my family. I don’t want them to think I’ve chosen sides or anything.”

My chest tightened as I turned my face away. “You could have told me. You could have trusted me. I?—”

“Ali.” His fingers grazed my cheek, gently turning my head back. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, were tender as they gazed at me. I sucked in a breath. “It’s what Abe wanted.”

“It was?” I whispered and that hurt too, maybe worse. My own brother. Theo. I was so tired of everyone protecting me like I was fragile.

He pressed his lips together, his shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. “I know about the accident.”

I jerked back. “He told you?”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Mack yelled. “Let’s get a move on it. We don’t have all day.”