Page 67 of Caden & Theo
Theo’s smile is quieter now. “Me neither. It still feels far off.”
“You graduate in four months.”
“Three, if I ace everything.”
“You will.”
He hums. “Gotta start job hunting soon.”
“You’re gonna be an amazing teacher.”
He pauses. “You think so?”
“I know so. The way you explain stuff, the patience, the dorky jokes… it’s a package deal.”
“You think my jokes are dorky?”
“I think they’re perfect.”
The road narrows a bit, the pines closing in. Snowbanks climb higher the farther we go. The sky has turned lavender now, the sun almost gone. I reach out and brush his thigh, just lightly. “Thanks for doing this.”
Theo glances over. “Thanks for needing me.”
We don’t say anything for a while after that. We just drive. The scenery becomes more remote, quieter, until it feels likewe’re the only two people left in the world. And honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way.
The last thing I remember is the low sound of Theo humming along to the radio and the gentle bump of the road beneath us. Then sleep pulls at me again—unhurriedly, heavily, like hands dragging me underwater.
When I blink awake, the world is wrong.
The tires screech.
A squeal penetrates my ears, loud and sharp, and the headlights flicker as we veer hard to the right. I lurch sideways in my seat, my chest clenching.
“Theo—” My voice is a rasp.
But Theo’s not answering.
He’s slumped forward. His head jerks up in the next second, eyes wide, frantic, hands snapping to the wheel, but it’s already too late.
We hit the shoulder.
Snow explodes in the beams of the headlights, a wall of white swallowing us whole.
Theo screams my name.
Then it all goes to hell.
The world flips. A crunch of metal, the terrible groan of the car folding in on itself. My head slams into the side window. A blinding burst of light erupts behind my eyes, and I feel weightless—shredded from the seat, from gravity, from sense. We spin, and spin, and then something hits us hard enough to snap the breath from my lungs.
We stop moving, but the world doesn’t.
Everything tilts.
Everything aches.
The windshield’s smashed. Glass sparkles like snowflakes in the air. The roof is bowed, pressing down. The dashboard’spushed in, swallowing my legs. I taste blood, thick and metallic on my tongue.
There’s a ringing in my ears that won’t stop.
