Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 116254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
So much more than just a passing good time. He’d screwed things up with the only man who’d ever seen him for him. Who’d wanted him for reasons completely unrelated to basketball.
“Fuck!” His voice cracked as he punched the wheel again, his heart a thundering mess inside his ribs.
He needed to leave but couldn’t go back to the party. He’d be spotted in no time, even if he camped out in his car. He couldn’t deal with those people’s shit, and didn’t want to show up at Ned’s in this state.
His mind churned. And then it came to him.
The bridge.
A spot he went with Ned sometimes, overlooking the Potomac. Just a straight shot toward the highlands on that two-lane road. He could totally manage it. After that exchange with Kai, his buzz was nearly gone. And with it being so late at night, there’d be virtually no traffic.
Shoving his key into the ignition, he fired up the engine, pulled his leg in and shut the door, then flipped on his wipers.
Definitely not the outcome he’d hoped for.
With one last look at Kai’s apartment, he fastened his seatbelt and backed out of his parking spot. Short moments later, he turned on to Brenswick and was driving away.
The thunder abated, receding into the night, but the rain continued at a steady fall.
He turned on the radio and cranked the volume high.
Three nights with Kai. That was all he’d had.
A brand-new record for how quickly he’d managed to royally fuck something up.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. Oh, the irony.
This ‘royal’ king was a dumbass jester after all.
A fool on the court of life—where real things actually mattered.
Ten minutes later, he spotted the bridge in the distance, lofty pines rising up to flank each side of the road. Those looming to the left climbed skyward up an incline. Those to the right reached only half as high, their stalwart trunks rooted much lower down the sloping terrain.
Music pulsed through his bones, the bass cranked high. He accelerated, needing to be at his safe haven right now. Sitting with his engine cut off as he stared at the river. A place he’d remain until his buzz burned off and he’d defragged his brain.
His wipers kicked from side to side, throwing off all that water that just kept coming down, his headlights casting a radiant sheen atop the asphalt’s glossy surface.
Nearly there, the bridge now fully in view, a backdrop of darkness beyond, where the mountainside fell away. The lookout point would be up on the right. He’d pull off and make his way down to the overhang below.
High beams cranked, he homed in on the turn—
Something large shot out in front of him.
A massive buck.
Instantly blinded by Breck’s headlights, it stopped dead in its tracks.
Eyes wide, Breck yanked his wheel to the left. His car fishtailed wildly. “Shit!” He yanked it right, but overcompensated. His car swerved sharply in the other direction, heading for the drop off. Panicked, he slammed on the brakes. Then just like that, his tires were hydroplaning, careening his car sideways, then backward off the side of the road.
Oh, shit! No fucking guardrails!
His slide through gravel and grass depleted his momentum. He slowed considerably, but not enough. And not in time. Land dropped away beneath his car in a steep downward slope. Breck braced, eyes squeezing as his car’s rear fender pitched into the arms of two sturdy pines. A cacophony of branches snapping. Then a harsh, abrupt stop.
His airbag deployed and his engine cut off.
Pulse thundering, his eyes shot open. Frantically, he glanced around. He wasn’t injured and hadn’t toppled down the mountainside, but was still in an alarmingly precarious state; his car’s backend snared in those evergreens’ branches, his left front bumper gouged into the earth’s rocky slope—the body of his Altima, in essence, forming a bridge between the two.
And underneath that bridge? He held his breath and warily peered out his window.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck.
Just a whole lot of dark open space beneath more jutting branches.
Wood creaked under the weight of his ride. Only a matter of time before those tree limbs gave out. Starting to tremble, he unlatched his seatbelt, then reached for the door and slowly opened it up. His car tilted instantly in response to the weight shift, those tree branches groaning, as if saying ‘not another inch!’ He froze, nearly falling out the door, terrified to move, his heart going crazy, his wide eyes locking on the depths below.
If he climbed out, his ride would tip to its side, either sending him plummeting or dangling by the frame of his door. Which most likely would then dislodge his car and send it crashing down the slope.
His breathing turned frantic as rain pelted his body.
He was going to die.
All alone in this storm.
On the side of this mountain.