I sat up quickly, looking around, unable at first to process the chaos around us. Ahead on the highway a car had flipped over on its roof, steam seeping from the engine. Not far away a truck was down in the ditch, lying on its side. A man and a woman were climbing from the cab of the truck, looking battered and shocked.
Before I even realized what was happening, Cohen was no longer beside me. He had dashed from the car and was running toward the scene of the accident, shouting something at Aiden who trailed behind him, already talking on his cell phone.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears and I couldn’t tell if I was imagining the sounds of the screams and sirens I heard echoing in the distance.
Ashlyn climbed from the front seat back toward me and we huddled together. I was suddenly freezing and shaking, and I realized she was crying, but I didn’t know why. We were okay. Aiden was okay. What was wrong?
That was when I saw it.
Cohen was dragging the body of a woman from inside the overturned car. He lay her down on the road, and shouted something to Aiden, who was standing beside him. Aiden nodded and darted back towards us. He opened the driver’s door and reached in with shaking hands to pop open the trunk. “Aiden, is she okay?” Ashlyn demanded.
“Stay here,” he warned, then disappeared from sight around the back of the car. He returned to Cohen’s side a few seconds later carrying a beach blanket.
Cohen draped it across the woman, covering her from head to toe, then crawled back to the car where he appeared to be talking to someone. Was there someone still alive in that car? It didn’t seem possible.
My eyes focused for a moment on the contrast of Ashlyn’s brightly colored tangerine and pink beach blanket being used to cover the body of a woman I was pretty sure was dead. I had just lounged on that blanket yesterday, basking in the sun without a care in the world, and was instantly reminded of the harsh lesson life had taught me once before. Everything you held dear could be taken from you in the blink of an eye.
Cohen lay on his belly and reached into the smashed up car, and pulled out a little girl who looked to be probably three or four years old. She was crying and blood oozed from a gash to her forehead, darkening the blonde hair at her scalp. Cohen carried her away from the vehicle, cradling her in his arms as she cried and screamed for her mother.
He brought her to the side of the road and set her down on the grass and bent to speak to her before returning to the car once again. A couple of concerned bystanders appeared with blankets, doing their best to calm the hysterical child.
Suddenly I needed air. I needed out of this cramped backseat and I lunged for the door. Ashlyn tried feebly to stop me, but when she saw the look on my face, she released me and fell from the open door onto the gravel, my feet not even able to support my weight. I crawled away from the car on my hands and knees and vomited into the grass. After spitting a few times to clear my mouth, I sat down on the ground, unable to move, unable to think and shaking violently.
The sirens grew louder and several police cars and an ambulance skidded to a stop on the highway. I watched as a stream of uniformed officers and paramedics jogged toward the scene. Cohen met them, and began shouting things and pointing. His face was a hardened mask of concentration, until he scanned the scene and met my eyes. I was sure I looked completely pathetic, sitting in the grass, crying and shaking, but I couldn’t even pretend to be strong right now.
He returned to my side and helped me stand, holding my weight up by securing his arm around my waist. He walked me over to Aiden and said something I couldn’t hear. Aiden picked me up and carried me back to the car, laying me down on the front seat and covering me with a blanket. I closed my eyes and curled onto my side and bawled. The pain of losing Paul rushed up inside me and overwhelmed everything else. I was transported back five years, the memory of the crushing heartbreak as painful now as it had been then.
Listening to the sounds of horror and grief taking place outside of the car, I knew I could never let myself love Cohen. My throat tightened and I struggled for air. I curled into a ball and wrapped my arms around myself. There was no way I would survive another crushing tragedy, and I renewed the promise I made to myself the night of Paul’s death. I had to guard my heart. It was the only way.
Chapter 11
When we finally got home, I was exhausted and emotionally drained. Our journey back from the lake felt more like we’d gone to hell and back. The accident had added a few hours onto our trip, both with Cohen helping to respond at the scene, as well as the resulting traffic backup. The mood in the car had been subdued and quiet, with no one wanting to talk. That had been fine with me.
Aiden and Ashlyn dropped us off, and Cohen insisted on carrying my bags inside. I tried to lift my suitcase from the trunk and found I had lost all muscle strength. Cohen’s hands darted in past mine and he easily lifted the bag, hauling it inside for me. I collapsed onto the couch while he heated a mug of water in the microwave and made me a cup of tea, mumbling something about it calming my stomach.
The blissful weekend had taken a violent turn in the blink of an eye. It now seemed a lifetime ago that I’d relaxed in Cohen’s arms, that we’d shared some intimate moments. Almost as though they’d never even happened.
Cohen set the mug on the coffee table in front of me, and sat down beside me on the sofa. He rubbed his hands against his knees, lost in thought.
“Cohen, you can go. I’ll be fine.”
His eyes met mine and were full of skepticism. “What can I do to help? Can I run you a bath?”