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Jase
Ace and I don’t talk much on the way out here. I’m sure it’ll be like that for a while, but he’s trying for her and her happiness.
Right as I’m pulling up, something in my gut tells me something's wrong. In the driveway is my brother, Gene, and a car I don’t recognize.
My gaze scans the porch. I see several people, but it’s dark out, and I can’t make out any of the faces.
“Who’s that?” Ace asks next to me, his eyes wide with the same worry I feel.
I jump out of the car as soon as it’s stopped. My blood is pumping too fast, my heart picking up its pace when I see who’s on the porch.
Francis and Nate.
What. The. Fuck.
My eyes must be lying. They must be. There’s no goddamn way this is him. No way.
When Lo is nowhere in sight, my nerves run wild.
“Where’s Lo?” I demand, instead of asking what the fuck a dead man is doing at my mom’s house.
“She left with Ellie about ten minutes ago,” my mom answers.
Francis’ spine stiffens, his posture changing like he didn’t bother asking this before. “Where?” he asks, his voice huskier than I remember. It has been nearly twenty years. Why the fuck is he here? How is he not buried six-feet deep? Am I in a dream?
“I don’t know,” Mom answers. Her worried gaze lands on me. “She said she wanted to talk, convinced Lo into her car and drove off.”
“We’ve got to go after them!” Nate, Toby, and Francis say all at once.
“What the fuck am I missing?” I bark, my heart practically jumping out of my chest to find its other half.
“My death,” Francis explains, “was all Eleanor’s doing.”
Mom and Gene gasp while I’m stuck here fearing for my wife’s well-being. How long has it been since they left?
“I’m leaving, I can’t do this. She needs me.”
“You don’t know which way they went!” my mom shouts after me.
“Go east,” I yell at Toby and the other guys. “I’ll go west.”
I run to my car like a bat out of hell, racing toward what I hope is nothing. I picked west because it’s where the bridge is. Something told me this was the way, that something bad is about to happen.
Driving thirty miles over the limit, I race to the bridge and see my worst nightmare ahead. The right side of the barrier is busted through. Before thinking better of it, I stop my car, run to the side, and jump over after catching a glimpse of Ellie’s car beneath me. Fight or flight has always been my driving force. It’s always been fight, though. I’m not flighty or scared unless it comes to my marriage apparently.
The water is only about fifteen feet here and the tail end of the car is barely sticking up. The water must already be filling the cab.
I swim beneath, glad there’s a glimmer of light from the bridge’s lights. In the driver’s side, I see Ellie. She’s unconscious, a huge gash on her head. Then, I see my wife, a halo of hope and beauty and love. She’s awake. I come to her side, kicking at the door, but she’s shaking her head at me. Almost telling me no. Why no? Why not her?
She shakes her head vehemently, pointing at Ellie, almost as if saying get her. Is it the baby? It must be the baby. My wife, the one with the biggest heart, wants me to save an unborn child over her.
Her eyes beg me, but I’m not willing to give up her life for Ellie’s. Not a goddamn chance.
She shakes her head when I try again. Gritting my teeth, I give in and go to Ellie’s side. I attempt to break the glass, knowing it’ll be easier when the car is filled. I wait, praying Lo can hold her breath, hating that she’s forcing this on me. It’s her. It’ll always be her.
I come back up for air, panting and praying I can accomplish everything I need. Then, I dive back under when the car finally submerges. I kick open Ellie’s window, but when I look over at my wife, her eyes are no longer aware, her body is no longer moving. My panic to save her overtakes my panic to save a child and its mother.
She’s my wife.
She’s my everything.
I’m nothing without her.
Rushing back to Lo’s side, I kick and kick and kick until, finally, the window comes out. I pull her body, the one I’ve loved for years, the same one that carried our beautiful children, the one I betrayed. It feels so weak, so frail.
I kick, my chest aching from exertion, nearly stopping from lack of oxygen. Adrenaline is a finicky bitch. It can give you so much strength and power, or it can kill you just the same. Luckily, God is looking out for my wife, the same one who doesn’t believe in his existence.
We break through the water, and it kills me to heave a breath. I’ve never felt a tightness in my body quite like this. My head throbs, and my eyes burn.
Swimming her over to the underpass area where tourists fish, I lay her as flat as humanly possible. There’s shouting nearby and sirens. I have no clue who could have called the cops, it sure as hell wasn’t me. As soon as I saw the bridge, I should have called. I’m so fucking stupid. If my wife wasn’t here, cold and dead as the sea, I would scream for help. I learned CPR. Every manager at my building had to, and being the CEO, it felt necessary to learn as well.
I tip her chin back, making sure she has an airway. Then, I start compressions. I won’t cry. I can’t cry. She can’t die. She just fucking can’t. After the thirtieth compression, I pinch her nose, breathing life back into her lungs.
“Come on, Peaches,” I beg, my voice small and desperate.
She doesn’t move, but that doesn’t stop me from restarting the process all over again. I pump until I can’t. I bellow and beg until my voice is hoarse, and I breathe into her the inhale she needs so she exhales once more.
“Come back to me, Peaches,” I beg, my heart constricting when nothing changes.
I’m screaming, my chest caving, my heart literally dying along with hers. I kiss her, her head, cheeks, chin, nose, lips, and I don’t stop yelling even when the medics come and start their compressions, even when they have to push me away to help her.
It’s like Lilac all over again. No sound. Nothing. Emptiness. Death.
I couldn’t save my daughter.
I couldn’t save my marriage.
I couldn’t save my wife.
It’s all my fault.
They’re all gone because of me.