Page 8 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

I can't do that. I refuse.

“Shit,” I hiss at the sight of red lights flashing ahead. Granite Bridge is half a mile away, but I can hear the warning bells dinging to announce a boat coming through. They give a decent heads up to prevent someone getting trapped on the bridge as one side lifts higher and higher. Or worse, dropping into the sudden gap, plummeting into the water.

I press the brake as I approach. The yellow bars of the barrier aren't moving to block me from entering yet. Once they do, I'll be unable to drive to the island for at least forty minutes.

What if Dez is sitting around with his buddies, high as a kite, feeling like a kingpin with the money he stole? What if he gets so cocky that he brags about how I let him keep it? Jake asked if Dez was sure they could trust me not to call the cops. He clearly didn't know what information Dezmond had over me. He was keeping his wicked secret to himself. For now.

My blood pressure spikes.I can't let him tell anyone. I can't have more prying into my life.I take my foot off the brake, driving faster now. I've been told by others that I'm a patient individual. Usually, they say that when they watch me craft a complicated sandcastle on the beach. Or when they see me doing my best to get a flower arrangement just right.

They're wrong about me.

I'm just someone who's used to waiting for things to get better. Trauma has done a good job forming a shell of old scars around my psyche. But I have my limits. Would you call someone who stands in front of a bomb, waiting for it to explode, patient? No. You'd call them an idiot. Not everything in life is better if you wait.

The half-mile length of the bridge is illuminated along the tensile cords holding it all together. It's nearly nighttime, my headlights glowing on the asphalt that fades away where the bridge begins. A different set of lights, on the opposite side, approaches me; a car leaving the island. The sight of it gives me the last boost of courage I need to begin speeding up.I can make it,I tell myself, sweat sprouting along my upper chest.The bridge won't split apart before I get to the other side! I can do it!

Blood thumps in my ears, my skull, muting my tense breathing. I've only felt this brand of insanity once before in my life. The rush of seeing your only option shrinking in front of you … it makes a person desperate enough to risk everything. Not just their life, but their place at the pearly gates; if there is such a thing.

Headlights blind me. The other car has left the bridge behind. It's about to pass me and I'm about to duck under the lowering, flashing-yellow bars. I'm close enough to see the metallic signs with printed black words likeDanger! No entry when lights flash!I ignore them, looking straight forward. Just before they drive by me the other car swerves to cut into my path.

I scream, jamming my foot on the brake, making the gears grind and squeal as I twist my steering wheel, so I won't collide with the vehicle. I'm going too fast and overcompensate. The car jolts as I spin out. The sky flashes by; clouds, the bridge, the ocean.

I'm going to fall over the edge!

Clinging to the wheel, I scrunch into a ball with my eyes fiercely shut. The concrete barrier on my right keeps me from going over the cliff and plunging into the waves. The impact retracts my seatbelt, tightening it and hurting my shoulder. My head is oscillating though my car is frozen. Panting heavily, I stare through my windshield with my eyes straining in their sockets.

The two ends of the bridge form a triangle. The split in the center is already too much of a gap for me to try and gun my car over. The yellow barrier is down, keeping anyone from driving onto it now. The ringing in my ears is loud. Too loud to be just my eardrums recovering.

It's my blinkers,I think numbly. I turned them on accidentally when I swerved to avoid hitting the other car. It's a miracle my airbag didn't deploy.

I twist in my seat to look for the crazy driver. I'm disoriented, it takes a bit to notice the blue car is behind me now. The headlights are still on; I shield my eyes when my driver-side door is ripped open. A massive figure blocks the glare of the lights. I don't recognize him until he speaks.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jordan demands loudly, his hand wrapping around my upper arm like he's planning to rip me out of my car. “Are you completely insane?” His eyes are boiling in the center with a kind of madness I can't make sense of.

His grip triggers a fresh burst of anger that wakes me out of my stupor. His son dared to touch me like this less than an hour ago. My flesh still hurts from that disgusting man's clutch, and now hisfatheris doing it?

Reaching to close my door, I put up my left foot, pushing him away from me. “Don't touch me! You nearly ran me off the road!”

Jordan doesn't let go; he reaches over, cuts my engine, yanks my keys out before I can snatch them back. His body squeezes next to mine—he smells like freshly cut wood—and unclips my seatbelt. In one smooth motion, he tugs me out of my car. “What did you expect me to do, let you drive into the ocean?” he asks. Some of his rage has subsided, but there's still a simmer in his throat.

We stand toe to toe in the road. This morning, he was stoic, hard to get a reaction from. The man before me is someone else. Jordan stands only a few inches taller than me, his face etched with fury-crafted grooves. One side of his mouth is curled to show off some teeth.

Glaring back at him, I use my whole body to pull from his grip. He releases me this time. “I wasn't driving into the ocean! I was trying to cross to the island. You had no right to get in my way.”

Straightening up, he tugs at his shirt, smoothing the fabric, putting himself back together from the outside in. “I saved your life,” he says. In seconds he's back to his restrained self. He points at the bridge where we both see a boat passing beneath, the white paint glinting in the flashing warning lights.

A small bit of unease tightens my guts. I could have toppled over the bridge's lip, trapped in my vehicle, unable to escape the brackish abyss. Maybe he did save me.

Shaking myself, I spin to investigate my car. “Dammit,” I groan, noticing my front right tire is flat. The rubber is all shreds from the textured barrier. “No, no, no. I have to get over there.”

“Why do you need to go to the island so badly?”

I'm mumbling to myself, not expecting him to listen. I pace the strip of asphalt in front of my car while chewing my knuckle. “It's none of your business.”

“You've got an incredible amount of attitude for someone who nearly died.” He pulls out his phone, tapping it, pressing it to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” I ask warily.

Jordan turns his green eyes towards me, speaking to whoever picks up his call. “Hello? Yes, I need a tow truck to the Crestwind side of the Granite Bridge.”

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