Page 129 of Forsaken Oath

I miss Beau.

The thought slams into me out of nowhere, a punch to the gut that steals my breath. For days, I’ve been trying to outrun this ache, trying to convince myself I’m fine. But I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fine without him. And now, as I barrel down this narrow road in a national park at midnight, with shadows flickering like ghosts in the headlights, his absence is a gaping wound I can’t ignore.

It’s stupid really. It's not like he was in my passenger seat, whispering encouraging words in my ear. But there was comfort in knowing he was out here with me. That he’d have my back if he could.

It’s better this way, for more than one reason.

Now, we’re nothing but rivals, both of us reaching for the ultimate prize at the end of this track.

“Focus,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head like it’ll clear the storm raging inside. “We’re almost there.”

I’ve cleared half the checkpoints, and I haven’t seen a single pair of headlights in the twenty minutes I’ve been driving. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

The darkness presses in from all sides, the winding road ahead illuminated only by the twin beams of my headlights cutting through the inky black. The dense trees loom like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches reaching out as if to snag me as I race past. Shadows flicker and dance at the edges of the light, morphing into monstrous shapes that make my heart stutter and my palms sweat against the steering wheel.

I can’t escape the thoughts swirling in my mind, a maelstrom of regret and longing and fear that threatens to drag me under.

Like some kind of fucked-up boomerang, my thoughts bounce back to him. Always to Beau. I glance in my rearview mirror, expecting to see his familiar headlights behind me. It’s endless black, like it has been since I pulled into the park.

Maybe that’s what makes me most anxious. There are only five people left in this final race. I don’t know if we were all given the same map or not. I don’t know what the parameters are for, which makes it hard to judge where I am in the lineup. Am I first? Or have I not seen anyone because I’m dead last?

I rev the engine as the next turn approaches, heart hammering against my ribs. The road twists into the dark like a coiled snake, biding its time until it strikes. I imagine it unfurling from the ground, rising up and winding around me over and over until I stop fighting. A slow death.

A low, wobbly chuckle wrenches through the car at the idea. It’s ridiculous, and I almost wonder if I’m a little delirious. Can heartache do that to someone? Canembarrassment?

I fucking hate that I feel embarrassed about my feelings, no matter how ridiculous they might be. I don’t feel like I can even have those types of feelings, and definitely not over a man who I barely know.

Love his cock? Totally acceptable.

Lovehim? Absolutely not.

Girls like me don’t get to be loved by men like Beau Carter. We’re lucky if we get to be fucked by them.

I feel foolish even having thought for a second that I could somehow keep him. Like this is some kind of small town Hallmark movie. This isn’t.

I should’ve known better. Nothing in my life is easy, and the fact that being around him felt as effortless as breathing should’ve been my first red flag.

It doesn’t matter that it feels like I’ve always known him. That I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m with him.

Fuck, maybe it was the illicitness of it all. The knowledge that sneaking around with him was frowned upon for a myriad of reasons. Like I could shed all the layers of the person I was supposed to be and simply exist as I am around him.

I’ve seen my mother tie herself into knots for so many different men, always hoping that they’d like her enough to stay if she was some specific version of herself. It never worked. And I promised myself that I’d never follow in her footsteps.

I would never put myself first over the safety and well-being of my sisters. And that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I walked away from Seven Pines now. And for what? There’s nothing that guarantees it even works out between us.

The road ahead twists and turns like the choices I made, every one of them a piece of a forsaken oath I never should’ve taken. The moon casts eerie shadows across the narrow, sloping road. It only adds to my anxiety.

Honestly, at this point, I don’t know that I’m anything more than a tangled ball of nerves. I keep waiting for the euphoria to kick it like it usually does when I race, but it’s not working yet. My headlights slice through the shadows, illuminating the dense tree lines on either side of the road, but everything beyond is awash of black. I keep the gas pedal to the floor and eyes flicking between the glowing line of directions on my phone and the road.

I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the road as I swerve around a bend, tires gripping the pavement as the car thrums beneath me. My playlist blares, a mash of bass-heavy guitar riffs and angsty lyrics, matching the turmoil swirling in my gut. The wind whistles through the cracked window, carrying a crisp, biting chill that makes every nerve stand on edge.

A flash of headlights through the passenger window makes me curse under my breath. Another car, ripping through the trees at a reckless angle, bursts onto the road out of nowhere. It doesn’t swerve; it doesn’t even hesitate—just barrels forward, like it’s set on collision. I yank the wheel left, hugging the edge of the embankment, the slope just a few inches from my tires. Adrenaline screams through my veins as I dodge its path by a hair.

The other car recovers instantly, over-correcting the turn and surging after me. I can tell by the headlights it’s not Beau. I don’t know if that’s comforting or not.

“Motherfucker,” I yell.

I grip the wheel tighter, every muscle straining as I speed down the road. I can feel them creeping closer, headlights flooding my mirrors. They try to slide in beside me, but the road’s too narrow. I can almost hear the grind of metal if we get too close; there’s no room for error, no room to breathe.

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