PROLOGUE
“You know, one day, my charm will win you over,” Ethan says from the driver’s side of his Jeep.
I laugh, giving him my bestyou’re crazyexpression. “No way. I’m immune to it.”
“You’ll be Mrs. Leonard. Mark my words.”
I throw my head back. “I think you’ll haveplentyof Mrs. Leonards.”
He taps his thumb against the worn steering wheel to the beat of the music. “Oh, come on. The football star falls for his tutor. That’s romantic as fuck.”
I shake my head at him, fighting back a smile. “Stick with thefootball star falls for the cheerleadertrope. That seems to be going well for you.”
The sudden glare of headlights in the starless night interrupts us, nearly blinding me. I shield my eyes from the oncoming truck’s bright beams.
“Jesus,” Ethan says, flashing his lights at them.
I squint, struggling to see the truck, and then scream.
The truck isn’t in its lane.
It’s inours.
Ethan blasts his horn. “What the fuck?”
“What’s it doing?” I yell.
The truck’s tires squeal as it speeds toward us.
“Dial 911!” Ethan orders, swerving into the opposite lane.
The truck does the same.
I fumble for my bag on the floorboard. My hip smacks against the door when Ethan switches lanes. It’s like we’re in a game of chicken against our will.
I empty my bag in my lap, grab my phone, and my hands shake as I dial the numbers.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a woman asks on the other line.
“A truck keeps trying to hit us!” I scream into the speaker as Ethan curses in the background. “It won’t stop swerving into our lane!”
“Ma’am, can you state your location?”
Before I can reply, Ethan swerves to the side of the road. The truck follows, crashing into us head-on.
The impact throws me forward. I hit my head on the glove compartment and cry out in pain.
As the truck speeds away, it sideswipes my side, sending the Jeep crashing into a light pole. My ears ring as I see the truck’s taillights fade away in the rearview mirror.
When I peer over at Ethan, he’s not moving.
I scream his name, fighting to release my seat belt and climb over to him.
His body is still, and he’s not breathing.
I check his pulse.
He’s gone.