I exhale softly. “I just want this to be over. Did you find out who sent those flowers?”
I had given Ethan the card on the flowers I had received the very next day.
“I’m working on it,” he says tersely, his hands flexing on the steering wheel.
We pull up outside the restaurant ten minutes later. A valet starts walking over, and Ethan puts the car in park, turning toward me.
“I’ll circle around to the valet stand. Go ahead inside, and let them know we’re here.”
I unbuckle slowly, adjusting my wool coat as I step out. The sharp evening air cuts through the fabric, making me pull it tighter around myself. Bellamy's is elegant even from the outside—glowing sconces, a gold-lettered sign, and soft music drifting from within. I hover near the steps, waiting for him to pull into the turnabout.
That’s when I hear it.
The squeal of tires.
I barely register Ethan’s voice.
“Natalie!”
Everything slows.
A black car barrels around the corner, way too fast. Headlights blinding. Aimed straight at me.
I’m frozen. I can’t move. My feet won’t work.
Something slams into me from the side.
We hit the ground hard. My breath rushes out in a single, sharp gasp. Gravel bites my palms as I brace myself, tangled in someone else’s arms.
People are shouting. Ethan is shouting.
The car speeds away.
I push up slowly, limbs trembling, heart pounding in my ears. There’s a weight on me. Heavy. Crushing.
I recognize him.
“Roland?” I breathe in shock.
His body is slumped over mine.
“Roland,” I whisper, more urgently this time, trying to shift beneath him.
Panic courses through me as reality begins to set in.
No response.
I ease myself to the side, my stomach clenching in fear as I see his face. His eyes are closed. Blood seeps through the fabric of his coat, staining it dark and wet. His chest is rising—but barely.
“Ethan!” I scream, my heart slamming in my chest.
Ethan is already there, yanking Roland off me with trembling hands, laying him on the pavement.
“Call an ambulance!” he barks to someone. “Now!”
I kneel beside Roland, reaching for his hand. It’s cold.
His eyes open, filled with a dazed pain, lips moving, barely.
